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yamujiburo · 1 year ago

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Ketchum vs. Ketchum! Showdown in Cerulean City!

Woo! Finale time! I wanted to make this final battle feel special and give it more substance than I could do with just a comic. So! I got the help of @cyberwulf to write out this ending in fanfic form! Check it out here on AO3 if you prefer! If not, the journey continues below the cut~

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James Sidestory / Meowth Sidestory

A lot has happened since our Poké Moms began their journey. After a rocky start…

“*SQUAWK*”

…they’ve managed to catch some new Pokémon…

“Run! Run! Run!”

…in their own way.

“What a cute baby! You know, I have a son, too!”

With their month on the road almost up, Delia had just one more thing she wanted to do…

“I want to beat the Cerulean City Gym!”

But little did Delia know, there was a surprise waiting for her in Cerulean City!

“MOM??? JESSIE???”

“Let’s have a double battle! You and Ash versus Jessie and I!”

“You’re on! But I’m not going easy on you just cuz you’re family!”

“…What’s going on?”

Poké Mom Adventures

EP009

Ketchum vs Ketchum! Showdown in Cerulean City!

The water of the Cerulean gym battlefield glistened in the sunshine streaming through its crystal glass roof. Both teams gazed at each other with steely determination (and some lingering confusion, in Misty’s case) as above them, the Drone Rotom announced the rules.

“This will be a double battle between Gym Leader Misty and Champion Ash, and the challengers Delia and Jessie.” It projected a holographic image of both teams. “For today’s battle, each trainer may use two Pokémon. The battle is over when all of one team’s Pokémon can no longer battle.”

“All right!” Misty declared. “This is an official League battle for the Cascade badge!”

“And bragging rights!” Jessie added with a smirk.

“We’ll see about that!” Ash retorted. Misty glanced at him, taking in his clenched fists and gritted teeth. She’d seen Ash determined before, but… there was something here that she was missing. However, with the Drone Rotom hovering expectantly overhead, finding out what that something was would have to wait.

“Come out – Corsola!”

The Coral Pokémon landed on the rock in front of her, eagerly crying its name.

“This is a water-themed gym, so I’ll go with a Water-Type,” Ash remarked. “Oshawott, I choose you!”

“That’s the spirit, Ash!” Misty exclaimed. “It’s the job of a Gym Leader to help trainers learn type advantage and weaknesses by specialising in one kind of Pokémon, and around here that’s Water-Types!”

“Water, huh?” Jessie frowned as she considered the three Pokémon she had on hand. “Well, I don’t want my delicate little Ziggy to get her fur wet.” With a flourish, she tossed a Pokéball high in the air. “Go, Venomoth!”

The Poison Moth Pokémon emerged, hovering over the water.

“It’s a shame we don’t have any Grass or Electric-types,” Delia mused. “I guess we’ll just have to do our best with what we have.” Pushing her bangs out of her face, she called, “I choose you!”

Ash and Misty’s jaws dropped as the light from Delia’s Pokéball coalesced into a very large, very stern-looking Kangaskhan.

“I didn’t know your mom had such a strong Pokémon,” Misty whispered.

“Neither did I,” Ash whispered back. Movement at the corner of his eye caught his attention and he looked down at his starter Pokémon. “Something wrong, Pikachu?”

“Pika…”

Pikachu gazed across the water at Kangaskhan, ears and tail up, alert to… something. But before anyone could figure out what had caught his attention, there was a small cry.

“Kangaskhan!”

The baby squirmed, spooked by the glistening water lapping all around the rock. She buried her face in her mother’s belly and cried again. Cradling her young protectively, Kangaskhan gave Delia an apologetic look.

“Oh, of course!” Delia exclaimed. “I’m so sorry. Kangaskhan, return.” Cupping her hands around her mouth, she called across the battlefield. “That doesn’t count as one of my Pokémon, does it?”

“Of course not, Ms. Ketchum!” Misty shouted back. “Please choose another Pokémon!”

“If she’s got one,” Ash said with a confident smirk. “I’m betting she’ll send out Mimey.”

“I choose you… Clefairy!”

“Looks like you bet wrong, Ash,” Misty laughed as Ash stared in surprise at the Fairy Pokémon.

Above them, the Drone Rotom moved into position.

“Begin!”

“All right, Oshawott!” Ash called out. “Open up with an Aqua Jet!”

With a determined cry, Oshawott blasted a jet of water across the field, hitting Clefairy square in the belly and knocking the Fairy Pokémon off the rock and into the water.

“Ash Ketchum!” Delia exclaimed reproachfully. “That wasn’t very nice!”

Thrown off-guard, Ash gulped. “S-sorry!” (Oh man - I can’t believe I’m actually battling my mom!)

On the opposite side of the battlefield, a wet and bedraggled Clefairy clambered back up on the rock ridge, scowling at her attacker.

“Shake it off, Clefairy!” Delia urged as her Pokémon did just that, sending a fine shower of water droplets flying from her pink fur. “Use Disarming Voice!”

With a deep breath, Clefairy shot a vortex of pink hearts towards Oshawott, taking the Sea Otter Pokémon by surprise and knocking him into the water.

“Good work, Deerling!” Jessie shouted triumphantly. “Now it’s my turn!” She pointed at Corsola. “Venomoth, use Poison Sting!”

Venomoth hovered uncertainly for a few moments, then looked back at her.

“It doesn’t look like Venomoth knows that move, honey,” Delia remarked.

“Well, Dustox knew that move!” Jessie protested. “Venomoth should know it too, aren’t they both Bug-types?”

Venomoth just blinked at her.

“You really don’t know what moves your Pokémon knows?” Misty asked incredulously.

“Of course I do, just – just let me think!” Jessie spluttered, clenching her fists. “All right, Venomoth – use Gust!”

Venomoth didn’t move.

“Whirlwind!” Jessie tried. “Psybeam! …Tackle?”

Venomoth looked back and forth between Jessie and the battlefield as it fluttered about agitatedly, utterly confused by the barrage of unfamiliar orders.

“This is just sad,” Misty muttered, getting a nod of agreement from Ash. Raising her voice, she called out, “Corsola! Use Spike Cannon!”

Corsola glowed, and a split second later a shower of glowing white spikes slammed into Venomoth, driving it backwards towards the trainer box.

“Oh, no!” Delia groaned in dismay, wringing her hands. “Maybe we should’ve practiced with our new Pokémon before coming here!”

“We’re not giving up!” Jessie snarled, clenching her fists. “Venomoth! Get back out there!”

With a trill, Venomoth shook off the spikes, and floated towards its opponents again.

“Corsola!” Misty called. “Hit it with another Spike Cannon!”

Corsola began to glow.

“Well don’t just hover there!” Jessie barked out. “It’s about to attack again!” Venomoth looked back at her, and Jessie gestured angrily towards the battlefield. “Just do something! Anything!”

Once more, glowing white spikes shot towards Venomoth. This time, however, Venomoth dove towards the attack, sweeping its wings in front of itself at the last minute. Blue blades of light cut through the barrage of spikes, one hitting Corsola and driving it back.

“That’s Air Slash!” Ash exclaimed.

“Air Slash, eh?” Jessie shot her opponents a triumphant smirk. “Venomoth! Use Air Slash on that pitiful pink Pokémon again!”

“Hang in there, Corsola!” Misty called as her Pokémon was driven back for a second time. “Use Recover!”

“Don’t let it recover, Venomoth!” Jessie yelled. “Air Slash again!”

As her Pokémon geared up for another attack, she noticed Delia gazing at her in rapture.

“You’re so ferocious when you battle, Smoochum,” Delia remarked dreamily. She lowered her voice, waggling her eyebrows. “It’s kinda hot.”

Jessie blushed and giggled. “Baaabe, not in front of the twerps.”

Misty wrinkled her nose in disgust. “…Smoochum?”

“Freak out later, Misty!” Ash yelled. Venomoth was bearing down on Corsola, and the Coral Pokémon didn’t have much left. “Oshawott! Use Hydro Pump on Venomoth to protect Corsola!”

Leaping high into the air, Oshawott sent a powerful jet of water directly at Jessie’s Venomoth. With a cry, the Poison Moth hit the floor between Jessie and Delia, bounced once, and fainted.

“Hey, no fair!” Jessie bellowed, stamping her foot. “I was distracted!” She recalled Venomoth with a scowl. “I ought to ground you for making me look bad!”

“This is really weird,” Misty mumbled.

“You have no idea,” Ash sighed wearily.

“All right, you big blue blob,” Jessie growled to her faithful Patient Pokémon, “get out there and let’s win this thing!”

Saluting, Wobbuffet waddled forward, straight into the water. Jessie pinched the bridge of her nose as Wobbuffet awkwardly clambered up onto the protruding rock.

“Wobbles can’t attack unless he’s attacked first,” Delia murmured to herself. “Oshawott is strong, and Corsola can use Recover to gain back health. That means I’ve got to make this next move count!” She looked to Clefairy, wet and winded but not out of the battle. It was risky, but…

“Clefairy! Use Metronome!”

“Metronome?!” Misty exclaimed as Clefairy began to move her fingers hypnotically back and forth. “Now anything can happen!”

“Hold tight, everybody!” Ash called, just as the Fairy Pokémon’s fingers turned white.

Razor-sharp leaves whipped through the air, striking Oshawott and Corsola. The Grass-Type move was too much for the dual Rock/Water Type, and Corsola collapsed into the water, fainted. Oshawott was driven back against the rock ridge, and Ash held his breath, but the Drone Rotom only counted Corsola out.

“Oshawott! You hanging in there, buddy?”

With a grimace, the Sea Otter Pokémon gave him a determined nod. “Osha!”

“Ha!” Jessie cried triumphantly. “Now we’re even!” She clenched her fists, calling tauntingly across the battlefield. “Who’s next, twerpette? Togepi? Psyduck?”

“She sure is cocky for being down to just Wobbuffet,” Ash muttered.

“Not for long,” Misty replied with a smirk. She plucked her second Pokéball from her hip.

“Go – Gyarados!”

Delia’s eyes widened and Jessie took several steps back as the gigantic Pokémon appeared in the water. It glowered down at both trainers, making Delia swallow hard.

(Now’s not the time to lose my nerve! Gyarados is just a Pokémon like any other. All I have to do is-)

“Hey!” Jessie exclaimed angrily. “No fair using such a powerful Pokémon! What, are Staryu and Starmie at the Pokémon Centre or something?!”

Taken aback, Misty gaped at the former Team Rocket member in disbelief. “Since when do you care about playing fair?”

“Since you decided to use that monstrosity on a first-time trainer!” Jessie retorted with a shake of her fist. “That’s cheating!”

Misty paused, almost second-guessing her choice of Pokémon, when she remembered who she was dealing with. Squaring her shoulders, she shot back, “You’re not a first-time trainer!”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Ash muttered.

“I heard that!” Jessie bawled.

“It’s okay, honey,” Delia murmured, placing her hand on Jessie’s shoulder. “We can beat them. We just need to use strategy!”

“Gyarados!” Misty called out. Jessie may not have been the best trainer, and her track record with him was hit or miss, but Wobbuffet could reflect almost any attack. It might just have been luck, but Clefairy’s Metronome had taken out Corsola and left Oshawott just barely hanging on. There was only one choice of target.

“Use Hurricane on Clefairy, now!”

Rearing back, Gyarados shot a powerful blast of air directly at the Fairy Pokémon, sending her flying back to the trainer box.

“Oh no!” Delia cried. She knelt by her stricken Pokémon’s side, but it was obvious even without Drone Rotom saying so that Clefairy couldn’t continue. “You did a wonderful job, Clefairy.” Recalling her Pokémon, she rose, pushed her bangs out of her eyes, and called her second Pokémon.

“Mimey, I choose you!”

Ash clenched his fists. No more surprises – he knew what Mimey was capable of. Oshawott was tough, but he’d taken a lot of damage. If the Sea Otter Pokémon only had one move left, then Ash had to make it count.

“Oshawott! Hit Mimey with Aqua Jet!”

“Mimey, dodge it!” Delia cried out.

The Barrier Pokémon leapt high in the air, leaving Ash to watch, powerless, as Aqua Jet splashed harmlessly on the ground between his mother and Jessie. But before he could call out another attack –

“Now, Mimey, Focus Punch on Oshawott!”

There was no time for Oshawott to get out of the way. Mimey dove straight down, fist outstretched, and scored a direct hit. Both Pokémon vanished underwater. All four trainers held their breath. After a few seconds, Mimey burst out of the water, effortlessly leaping onto the rock. A moment later Oshawott floated to the surface, fainted.

“Good work, Oshawott,” Ash murmured as he recalled his Pokémon. He turned to Pikachu. “Looks like my mom’s a tougher trainer than I thought. You ready, Pikachu?”

The yellow mouse nodded, one tiny fist raised. “Pika!”

“You be nice to us now, Pikachu!” Delia cheered brightly.

Jessie was less optimistic.

“Babe, this isn’t looking good,” she murmured urgently. “I’ve been beaten by that Pikachu a zillion times! And that Gyarados looks strong. And mean! I don’t know if…”

She trailed off as the other woman took her hands.

“Now you listen to me, Jessie Ketchum.” Delia gazed into her eyes, a look of fierce determination on her face. “A zillion battles. A zillion losses. Against that very Pikachu. And you never gave up. So you’re not gonna give up now! Okay?”

Jessie stared back at her. Time seemed to stand still. Delia’s fingers were warm on her own as her words of encouragement hung in the air.

“Jessie… Ketchum?”

With the briefest of nods, Delia turned to face their opponents.

“Ash honey, don’t you hold back just because I’m your mom!” she called. “We’re going to give it our all, even if we lose!”

“She’s a lot like you, Ash,” Misty laughed. As Ash tugged the brim of his hat down to hide his blush, she raised her voice and called to the challengers. “You’re doing great, Ms. Ketchum! I’m really impressed by your abilities as a trainer. Now show me you’re worthy of the Cascade badge!”

“Hey!” Jessie yelled indignantly. “What am I, chopped liver?! My Venomoth pushed your Corsola to the brink!”

Misty grimaced. This was all still too strange – Jessie was a good guy? Jessie and Ash’s mom were… partners? She struggled for something positive to say about Jessie’s performance so far.

“Uh – yeah!” she managed. “It was, uh, really great how you figured out that one move.”

Jessie put her hands on her hips. “Ugh, could you sound any more insincere?!”

With a growl of impatience, Ash cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled across the battlefield. “Hey! Are we gonna battle or what?”

“Oh, we’re battling, twerp,” Jessie shot back. “And we’re gonna win!”

Ash grinned. “You ready, Pikachu?” The yellow Pokémon turned to look at his trainer. Ash pointed. “Quick attack!”

“Ha!” Jessie scoffed as Pikachu zigzagged along the rock ridge. “Wobbuffet, use Counter!”

Pikachu leaped forward…

“On Mimey!”

Delia and Jessie gasped as Pikachu pivoted and went straight for the Barrier Pokémon. Taken by surprise, he took the full brunt of the attack, losing his balance and hitting the water.

“A fake out!” Delia exclaimed. She beamed at her son with pride. “That was so smart of you, honey! You had us completely fooled!”

“Baaabe!” Jessie hissed. “I get that you care about him – I do too – but right now he’s the enemy!”

Delia tapped her fist against her head, grinning nervously. “Oh, right!”

“This is hurting my brain,” Misty groaned.

“How do you think I feel?” Ash grumbled.

Delia took a moment to centre herself and assess the situation. Pikachu didn’t have a Type advantage, but his Electric attacks were powerful – not to mention that Mimey was still wet. Of course, using them ran the risk of electrifying the entire battlefield, including Gyarados, but only one Pokémon needed to be left standing in order for that Pokémon’s team to win.

“Mimey!” she commanded. “Use Psychic on Pikachu!”

“Mr Mime!”

Mimey fixed Pikachu with an intense stare, his eyes and hands glowing blue. Blue light enveloped the yellow mouse as he was lifted into the air. Pikachu strained and struggled, but couldn’t break free.

Ash groaned in exasperation.

“Misty, go for Mimey!” he called. “If you weaken him, maybe Pikachu can break free. Plus, he’s a lot stronger than Wobbuffet!”

Misty nodded. “Right!”

“Hey!” Jessie objected. “Just because it’s true doesn’t mean you have to say it!” She shook her fist at them. “I raised you better than that, Ash Ketchum!”

“Wha – ” Ash took a step back, flabbergasted. “You didn’t raise me at all!”

“The heck I didn’t!” Jessie retorted. “Who kept an eye on you while you twerped your way through eight regions, huh?!”

Misty rubbed her temples. The whole situation was giving her a headache.

“Gyarados!”

The Atrocious Pokémon stirred itself and looked her way.

“Use Crunch on Mr. Mime, now!”

“Oh no, not Crunch!” Delia fretted, as Gyarados reared back, a sinister purple aura swirling around its fangs. “That’s a Dark-Type move!”

“Wobbuffet!” Jessie barked. “Get between Mimey and Gyarados and use Counter!”

Saluting, Wobbuffet leaped in front of Mimey, his body outlined in orange light. Crunch hit, hard, and bounced back twice as hard. Both Gyarados and Wobbuffet recoiled from the damage.

“Wobbles!” Delia cried out, as Mimey caught Wobbuffet in his arms.

“Don’t you quit on me now, Wobbuffet!” Jessie shouted.

Wobbuffet saluted weakly as Mimey pushed him back onto his paws. The distraction worked, and Pikachu dropped back to the rock, freed from Psychic.

“Keep the pressure on, Pikachu!” Ash yelled. “Use Iron Tail on Mimey, now!”

“Quick, Mimey!” Delia shouted as Pikachu somersaulted through the air, tail glowing white. “Use Reflect!”

Pikachu hit the invisible barrier and flew backwards, landing in the water.

“Gyarados!” Misty commanded. “Use Crunch again!”

“Mimey, keep using Reflect!” Delia shouted. “Don’t let them in!” She had to think. Poor Wobbles, he didn’t have much left – one more shot from that big Gyarados and that would be it. Not to mention that if Crunch hit Mimey, the battle would be over! She’d completely forgotten Gyarados could learn that move! Oh, maybe she should’ve used Zaggy instead…

Mimey obediently continued to use Reflect as Gyarados and Pikachu attacked from either side. Slowly the invisible barriers began to box them in, till Mimey and Wobbuffet were crowded together on the rock.

“Babe!” Jessie urged. “We have to do something or we’re gonna lose!”

“I know!” Delia groaned. “I just…” She cupped her face in her hands, pulling down on her cheeks. “…I don’t know!”

“Ms Ketchum!”

Delia lifted her head.

“You can’t let us back you into a corner!” Misty called. “Use your environment to find a way out!”

Ash shot her a glare. “Hey, whose side are you on?!”

“It’s my job as a Gym leader to help trainers to learn,” Misty explained with a smile. “Did you forget?”

“You didn’t help me when I battled you for the first time!” Ash replied indignantly, poking his thumb into his chest.

Misty glowered at him.

“That’s because you still owed me a new bike, Ash Ketchum!”

“Aaagh!” Ash placed both hands on his head, tugging his hat down. “Can’t you let that go already? It got repaired, didn’t it?”

While their opponents bickered, Delia had taken Misty’s words to heart.

“Use the environment…” she mused. There was only one place Mimey and Wobbles could go – but first they had to do something about the double attacks coming their way.

“Jessie!” she hissed, beckoning her partner to come closer. “Can you have Wobbles use Counter?”

Jessie looked at Wobbuffet, sweating nervously as he stood behind Mimey. She nodded.

“Okay,” Delia replied. She whispered quickly in the other woman’s ear. Jessie grinned, then straightened up.

“Wobbuffet! Use Counter on both those attacks!”

Without any hesitation, Wobbuffet moved in front of Mimey, body once more enveloped in an orange glow. Crunch and Iron Tail came back double on Gyarados and Pikachu, sending the two flying backwards. Both Pokémon landed hard on the rock, Gyarados almost wrapping around it with the force of the blow.

“On your feet, Pikachu!” Ash called. “It’s not over yet! …Huh?”

He blinked at the empty battlefield. Mimey and Wobbuffet had both disappeared. Ash tensed as he scoured the water for any sign of the enemy Pokémon, but the surface was still settling from the last bout of attacks. The sunlight streaming through the roof didn’t help either – it made the rippling water glitter.

Misty spotted movement a second too late.

“Look out-”

In tandem, Mimey and Wobbuffet burst through the surface, taking up positions either side of Gyarados and Pikachu, trapping their opponents between them.

“Good work, you two!” Delia cheered. She pointed dramatically. “Now, Mimey – use Psychic on both of them!”

Once more, Mimey’s eyes and hands glowed. Both Gyarados and Pikachu rose into the air, enveloped in blue light.

“Great strategy, Ms. Ketchum!” Misty called, earning a dirty look from Ash which she ignored. “There’s no point going for Wobbuffet – he’ll just Counter our attacks again.”

“Right,” Ash agreed. “We’ve gotta take out Mimey!” He raised his voice. “Pikachu!”

Misty did likewise. “Gyarados!”

Delia grinned. “Just as I thought.” She looked at her partner. “Get ready with Mirror Coat!”

Jessie blinked in confusion. “…Huh?”

“Thunderbolt –”

“Hydro Pump –”

“On Mimey!” both young trainers yelled in unison.

“Mimey!” Delia called, just as both Pokémon charged their attacks. “Drop them, use Light Screen and aim at Wobbles!”

“Aim at WHO?!” Jessie exclaimed.

There was no time to explain. Everything turned on a split second. Pikachu and Gyarados began to fall through the air. Several volts of electricity and a powerful torrent of water hit Mimey’s Light Screen and barrelled towards Wobbuffet.

The diabolical beauty of Delia’s devious plan suddenly caught up with Jessie. That pair of pathetic Pokémon were in for a –

“Now, honey!”

Jessie almost fumbled the command.

“M-Mirror Coat!”

Wobbuffet glowed, shrouded in a reflective aura. Everything seemed to slow down. The attacks hit. They bounced back at Mimey. Pikachu and Gyarados fell. Ash’s mouth opened in a silent noooo.

The timing was perfect.

Gyarados and Pikachu fell in front of Mimey, taking the full brunt of Thunderbolt and Hydro Pump, doubled by Mirror Coat. The sheer force of the attacks drove them along the surface of the water, causing huge plumes of water to rise into the air either side of them. The battlefield disappeared in a shroud of surf and spray.

“Pikachu!” Ash cried out.

All four trainers held their breath as the mist began to clear.

Jessie cried out in dismay on seeing Wobbuffet floating belly-up in the water. Ash groaned on spotting Pikachu doing likewise. Draped over the rock, Gyarados lifted its head weakly, then dropped it again.

Delia scanned the water, a smile spreading across her face as Mimey swam to the rock and clambered up, standing tall with a cry of, “Mr. Mime!”

“Wobbuffet, Pikachu, and Gyarados are unable to battle,” the Drone Rotom declared, as Ash sank to his knees. “The winners are the challengers, Delia and Jessie!”

“I… I can’t believe this…” Ash moaned.

“We…” Jessie couldn’t stop staring at the battlefield, Drone Rotom’s words ringing in her ears. “…we won?” She looked to Delia, and the joyful look on her face confirmed it. “We WON!!!”

Delia shrieked as Jessie caught hold of her and lifted her high in the air, doing a twirl before setting her back on her feet and peppering her face with kisses. “Hahahaha!” She turned to their opponents, pulling down on one eyelid while sticking her tongue out. “Suck it, twe – I mean, Ash and Misty! I knew this day would come sooner or later!”

“Jessica, I know you’re happy, but don’t be a bad winner,” Delia chided gently. “Magnanimity in victory goes a long way.”

“But baaaabe!” Jessie whined. “I’ve never had a victory this magnificent before!”

Delia just smiled and gave her a peck on the lips. “I think poor Wobbles wants you,” she remarked, nodding to the battlefield. “We’ll need to get him to a Pokémon Centre with Venomoth and Clefairy.”

Jessie nodded and went to haul Wobbuffet out of the water.

“Come on, you,” she grunted as she dragged the Patient Pokémon back onto dry land. Briefly she removed her cap and wiped the sweat from her brow. Fine, so she couldn’t taunt the twerps any more. Victory still tasted pretty sweet.

In her arms, Wobbuffet stirred and smiled weakly up at her. Jessie couldn’t help but smile back.

“How about that?” she murmured to him. “You’re a winner, Wobbuffet. I bet you can’t wait to tell the others.”

He managed a salute and a quiet “Wobba…” before Jessie recalled him to his Pokéball.

Ash, meanwhile, remained on his knees in the trainer box. “I can’t believe we lost to my mom.”

“You gotta admit, that last strategy was a thing of beauty,” Misty replied with a smile. She’d made her way out to the rock and was cradling Gyarados’s head, absently rubbing its crest. The big Pokémon opened its eyes and let out a quiet rumble. “I guess now we know where you get your battling skills from, champ!”

Stepping out of her sneakers, Delia carefully negotiated the slippery rock and fished Pikachu out of the water. A couple of vigorous rubs from his head to his tail, and the Electric Mouse Pokémon opened his eyes.

“You were great, Pikachu,” Delia murmured. She tickled him under his chin, getting a weak “Chaaa” in response. She made her way back to the side of the battlefield to find Ash, Misty and Jessie waiting. “You were great too, honey.”

Ash managed a smile as she handed Pikachu to him. “Thanks, Mom.” He gasped as he was pulled into a hug.

“That was such a fun battle!” Delia exclaimed. She loosened her hold just enough to look at him. “I can see why you like this so much.”

“Watch out, Ash,” Misty teased. “You might just have a new rival on your hands!”

Ash let out a distressed yelp.

“Oh no, I don’t have time for that,” Delia assured him with a wave of her hand. As Ash sighed with relief, she cupped his cheek and tilted his head up to look at him. “But travelling around this past month and battling with you today… it’s made me feel a little bit closer to you.”

Ash blushed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Aw, Mom,” he mumbled with a grin.

“Ahem.”

Ash and Delia turned to see Misty holding out a Cascade badge.

“This is yours, Ms. Ketchum,” the Gym Leader declared. “You made the battlefield, your Pokémon and their moves work to your advantage. I’m impressed!”

“Oh, you’re too kind, really,” Delia replied, blushing as she accepted the badge. Its blue surface seemed to glitter in the sunlight streaming in from the roof. “I’ll treasure this, always. Thank you.”

“That’s how you win a badge fair and square,” Misty teased, shooting a wink Ash’s way.

The Champion rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

All three turned to see Jessie holding out her hand.

“What about me?” she demanded. “The perfect Pokémon battle partner? Trainer of vicious Venomoth and wild Wobbuffet? Where’s my badge?”

Misty sighed. Jessie had been on the winning team, and she had won a badge fair and square, but the whole situation was still bizarre.

“I’ll give you a badge if you explain what all…” She waved her hand between Jessie and Delia. “…this is about.”

“Delia and I dating,” Jessie scoffed with a shrug. “It’s not that complicated.”

“I got that part,” Misty shot back irritatedly, “I just…” She looked from Jessie, standing with her arms crossed, to Ms. Ketchum, who had one hand on Jessie’s hip, to Ash, who looked like he was hoping the floor would open up and swallow him. “…you know what, never mind.” Reaching into her pocket, she took out a second Cascade badge.

“I can’t believe this is happening, but… you earned this!”

Jessie let out a little cry of joy as Misty put the badge into her hand.

“Oh, Deerling, look how pretty it is!” she gushed. “Do you think maybe we could just get the prettiest Gym badges?”

“I don’t see why not,” Delia replied. “With James to run the restaurant, I can take vacations more often!”

“James is –” Misty glared at Ash, who pulled the brim of his cap down and giggled nervously. “We’re going to the Pokémon Centre and then you’re telling me what’s been going on, Ash Ketchum!”

“Let’s all go to the Pokémon Centre,” Delia suggested. “Our Pokémon battled hard today, they deserve a good rest.”

It wasn’t long before Nurse Joy’s tender care had Venomoth, Corsola, Oshawott, Clefairy, Wobbuffet, Gyarados and Pikachu feeling like their old selves again. Delia squeezed Jessie’s hand, murmuring “that’ll be you one day, Smoochum” as they watched Joy work.

“Well, we should get going,” Delia declared once they had their Pokémon back.

“We were going to stay and have dinner, Ms. Ketchum,” Misty said. She eyed Jessie reluctantly, but made the offer anyway. “…You’re welcome to join us.”

“That’s sweet of you, Misty, but we’ve been away long enough,” Delia replied, to both kids’ relief. “It’s time we headed home. Thank you both so much for such an amazing battle.” She hugged Ash tightly. “Don’t stay away too long, honey.”

“You know I won’t, Mom,” Ash replied, blushing. He shot Misty a grin. “I’ll be home right after I kick Misty’s butt in our rematch!”

“Then I’ll see you soon,” Delia murmured. She let go of her son and gave Misty a quick hug and a wink. “Try not to beat him too badly!”

“Hey!” Ash exclaimed indignantly.

Delia stepped back, joining her girlfriend near the door of the Pokémon Centre. She gave her a look and nodded to both kids. With a sigh, Jessie trudged up to Ash and gave him a stiff hug.

“See you at home, kid,” she mumbled. Letting go, she turned to Misty. “Thanks for the battle and the badge, I guess...?”

The two gazed at each other for a few awkward moments, then Jessie took a step closer, slowly lifting her arms.

“Aah!” Misty hurriedly moved back, holding her hands up in front of her. “I don’t think I’m there yet.”

Jessie dropped her arms with a huge sigh of relief. “Great! Me neither.” She offered her hand instead, and the Gym Leader shook it.

Ash and Misty stepped outside the Pokémon Centre to see them off, their goodbyes ringing in the air as Delia and Jessie got on the road. Jessie slung her arm around her girlfriend’s shoulder.

“Happy, babe?”

“Yes and no,” Delia sighed. “I’m sad my journey’s over, but I couldn’t be happier about how it went. I made three wonderful new friends, foiled a nasty poacher, and that battle today –” She clenched her fists in front of her. “ – I never felt so alive! I can’t wait to tell Professor Oak and James and Meowth all about it!” She slipped an arm around Jessie’s waist. “I’m so glad you talked me into this.”

Jessie preened. “Oh it was nothing, babe, I –”

She broke off as Delia took hold of her hands.

“Thank you for making my dreams come true,” the other woman whispered. Jessie’s heart caught in her throat as she saw tears shining in Delia’s eyes. “Not just today, but every day we’re together.”

Jessie smiled, warmth blooming in her chest.

“It’s the least I could do,” she replied. Delia deserved more, so much more, for putting up with her, believing in her, loving her. Not to mention all she’d done for James and Meowth too. Maybe one day –

- but before Jessie could continue the thought, Delia leaned up and pulled her into a tender kiss.

THE END

“Oh, I can’t wait to get home to our nice comfy bed!”

“Ugh, me too. I hate sleeping on the ground.”

“…who said anything about sleeping?”

#hanamusa comic #hanamusashipping #hanamusa #fanfiction #jessie #delia ketchum #ash ketchum #misty #my art

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odi-et-amo-star · 1 year ago

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the eternal battle between The Horrors and my resolution to stay silly.

I am winning. not that there aren’t any Horrors right now

#ziggy #oh my god my life is such a drama how did so many things happen to me in ONE DAY #I have to start writing my journal again

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mxtantrights · 8 months ago

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Jason as red hood dropping off lost animals at a shelter and being smitten by one of the volunteers?

a/n: thank you anon for sending this in I could marry you!!! love love love this idea and If you want more.. my inbox is open!! <33 I hope you like it, enjoy!!

You think you'll have a door just for him. Only he can go through it, only he would have the keys to it. And he could come by as he pleases.

Yeah.

It's late at night when he comes in. The bell over the front door rings out and takes you out of your late night work. You were filling up needles for the night crew and also filling out paper work from earlier in the day.

"I've got another one." he says.

You lay down the needle and jog over to the front door. Jason Todd walks in with a cat in his arms. It seems calm and unmoving. It's white fur dirty and a bit matted.

"Highway?" you ask.

You take out your flashlight and carefully look at her pupils. They dilate to the light and track it as your move it around. No signs of a concussion but a scan would really answer that question.

"Yeah, she was doing cars left and right. Didn't seem hurt but you usually do scans right?" He asks you.

You look up at him.

You nod your head, "Yeah I can do an ultra sound...do you mind staying?"

In that moment, you try to dissect the way he's looking at you. No, you didn't mean for it to come out like that. But you did mean to ask. He's the one that saved her from the highway. His presence could help her stay calm.

Jason clears his throat, "Yeah I can, I can stay. Sure."

"Okay, follow me."

The cat, who Jason is calling Ziggy, is resting peacefully in a pen on her own. You close the gate gently and lock it after. You turn and look at Jason now.

He's standing a few feet behind you with his arms crossed over his chest. A serious look on his face.

"You know sometimes, it's not always a bad story. Sometimes its a good one." you speak.

"A cat on a highway dodging cars is a good story?" he asks you.

You sigh, "I've had some come in this office with extensive injuries and they were dumped on the highway. In a bag or no bag. Just left to fend for themselves in a dangerous environment."

"How do you do it?" he asks.

"Me being here makes a difference. I'm here when someone like you shows up with an animal in need. You make a difference too Jason." you answer.

He shrugs his shoulders, "I'm just doing what I can."

"Which is more than most do. So give yourself some credit."

"I don't really do that." he says.

"Well, you keep coming around here I'll do it for you." you reply.

He doesn't really answer. He just hums a response. An approving and a quite silent hum. But a hum nonetheless. You smile at that.

You remember the first time he came here and dropped of a lost bird. He barely said more than four words to you. He told you about the bird and then he parted ways. You didn't expect to see him again but he keeps showing up.

And you want him to.

#dc x reader #dc blurbs #Jason todd #Jason todd x reader #Jason todd blurb #Jason todd imagine

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loki-cees-all · 4 months ago

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Space Oddity {Avengers!Loki x Female Reader One-shot}

Cee's Loki Fic Masterlist / AO3 Link

Pairing : Avengers!Loki x Female Reader

Summary : While preparing for Stark Tower’s Halloween party, Loki misunderstands the point of a Halloween Costume. Luckily he has you to help him navigate such tricky waters.

W/c : 10k words

Content / Warnings : Established Relationship, Fluff, Smut, Loki being a little massive shit and also a silly goose.

Author's Note : Last year a certain LIFE-RUINER (affectionate) dressed up as Ziggy Stardust/David Bowie/Aladdin Sane for Halloween, and it permanently altered my brain chemistry. Because of (or in spite of?) the ensuing brain rot, it took 11 months of me staring at that picture to finally come up with an idea to include Loki in that delicious little mix.

P.S. I do recommend listening to Space Oddity by David Bowie while you read this. If you start the song at "Humanity’s wide variety of music..." then depending on your reading speed, the song's first Verse should start right at the big reveal 🤭

18+ Only - Minors DNI

⊱ ─ ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ─ ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ─ ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ─ ⊰

A crisp, hazy mist obscured your view of the ground from the 22nd floor of Stark Tower. Sunrise was yet to fully finish, and the Earth below was quiet, still adjusting to the uneasy transition from slumber to consciousness. Within that ambiguity, it was easy to believe that you’d somehow awoken on an entirely new planet.

You often wondered what that was like, to feel the soil from an uncharted world give way underneath your boots. To feel a breeze coming off an ocean no other human had ever seen before, or to look up into the night sky and see the stars of a brand new galaxy. How colossal, how surreal, how inferior it must make someone feel.

On lazy mornings such as this one, you’d often ask your partner what it was like to be an astronaut. He’d hand you a steaming cup of coffee as he rejoined you in bed, and with a contemplative expression, he’d always respond with a brand new answer.

You suspected the change in response was just due to him recalling his first trip to a different realm, and each time you always listened very carefully. You always closed your eyes and tried to lose yourself in the picturesque descriptions of fantasy worlds you’d probably never be able to see personally.

Sometimes, if you focused hard enough, you could almost smell the forests of a brand new planet. You could almost taste its fresh water and its different fruit, and feel the immaculate breezes of its unstudied seasons. But then you’d open your eyes again, and when you looked through the skyscraper’s window, the few dapples of orange and yellow leaves breaking through the dense fog would let you know this was still planet Earth.

But that wasn’t always so bad. Occasionally, there would be several weeks without a world-ending threat breathing down the Avenger’s necks, and that meant you could pretend you were all just regular people. You could sleep in or get up extra early to watch the world come to life, you could rush around and do any of the million things that needed to be done, or you could simply lay there and bask in that sweet silence.

Today, after having coffee in bed, your only concrete plan was a shopping trip in the West Village with Wanda and Nat. Your only solid goal was to finally settle on the perfect costumes for the Halloween party happening just a few days from now.

It was no secret that the Avengers had acquired a sizable contingency of cynics over the years, ones who weren’t shy about openly criticizing the entire team. From the collateral damage incurred during battle, to the individual actions of its members both on and off the team - anything they did was suspect, and absolutely nothing was beyond complaint. Thus, Pepper Potts had made it her personal mission to finally correct the planet’s opinions of its heroes.

In addition to the team’s assistance towards rebuilding efforts after their battles were won and having its members performing very public charity work, Stark Tower was starting to host more “fun” events in order to further boost the team’s positive image.

“To get your names in the papers without a rising death toll immediately afterwards,” was specifically how Pepper had explained her initiative. And naturally, that meant a Halloween Party was deemed absolutely necessary.

Anyone who was even tertiarily related to the Avengers was going to be there: from the low-level, but still notable, world government leaders, to the honorary members from all corners of the globe. And of course, plenty of reporters and photographers would be in attendance, all of them ready to document every single fun moment. It was set to become an impressive party, and knowing Pepper, a very classy event - so it shouldn’t have been at all surprising that most of the team had become hyper-focused on winning the party’s costume contest.

Initially, everyone kept their costumes a secret from one another, and the trash-talking was of a mostly friendly nature. But then rumors started flying around, and gradually, some members of the team started taking the competition far too seriously. Alliances were formed, and subsequently broken. The taunting soon became serious, and then reached devastating levels, which ultimately escalated into a four-day period where Tony and Steve couldn’t even be in the same room together without a physical fight breaking out.

Thankfully, the girls were far more casual about it, and that afternoon’s shopping trip was planned to be one of mutual support. Wanda was hoping to finalize her couple’s costume with Vision, and even though she hadn’t mentioned it directly, you knew that Nat was attempting a similar endeavor with Bruce, despite his timid insistence that he wasn’t a “costume guy”. It was so adorably endearing that it almost gave you a toothache.

Unfortunately, things were not so cut and dry with Loki.

He had yet to mention the Halloween party on his own, nor had he participated in any group discussions on the subject - he even ignored Tony's attempts to goad him into verbal sparring matches, something Loki ordinarily enjoyed. Not that anyone should be genuinely excited about performative media relations disguised as a fun party, but nonetheless, you were starting to become concerned about his lack of interest.

Private conversations with him about finding a costume had gone nowhere. He didn’t understand why he needed to dress up at all, or why you cared so much about it. And while he wasn’t saying it out loud, you didn’t need to be a genius to guess why he had reservations: everyone else already believed he was an actual monster, so shouldn’t he just be himself on Halloween?

Only a few weeks had passed since you’d moved in together, but it was going really well, all things considered. The otherworldly being you’d fallen in love with still didn’t understand most Earthly customs, and you very much enjoyed being his Midgardian teacher. But coming to terms with what he’d done while under the influence of the Mind Stone was still an ongoing struggle for him.

Loki had good days, but he also had very, very bad days. He still had nightmares about his past, and frequently his worries about the future kept him helplessly trapped in bed. It broke your heart to witness, and even though he’d probably never reveal the full details about his time with The Black Order and Thanos, he at least never stopped you from offering him comfort in the middle of the night.

Because he wasn’t the monster his critics or inner demons claimed he was, no matter how convincing they were. He deserved a good and peaceful life just as much as everyone else did, and you wanted nothing more than to help him finally have one.

When you’d left the apartment later that morning, Loki was lounging peacefully on the living room couch, his nose buried in the oldest book you’d ever seen. A gentle smile had tugged at his lips while you kissed his forehead on your way out, and with tremendous love in his eyes, he said that he’d miss you terribly while you were gone.

After an early lunch at The Coppola Cafe, the three of you spent the afternoon browsing what felt like every single vintage clothing shop in the West End. It didn’t take long for Wanda and Nat to finalize their costumes, and eventually you did manage to find something for yourself, but deciding on your partner’s costume was another story entirely. A terribly complicated task, one that was impossible to accomplish and rotten with trap doors and landmines hiding within the deceptive labyrinth that was Loki.

The girls did their best to make helpful suggestions during the shopping trip, offering such innocent and guiltless ideas like a mailman, or a stuffy professor - or perhaps he could dress up as Shakespeare so he could spend the entire party wandering around quoting Hamlet. Or maybe instead, he should just wear a Ghostface mask and a long black cloak, so he had a good excuse to stay concealed and silent all night long.

You appreciated their efforts, but none of those ideas were quite right for him. You couldn’t really explain why, but they just weren’t…Loki.

By late afternoon, your mind had turned into a jumbled mess. Unable to think clearly anymore, you resorted to aimless purchases of extra things neither of you probably wouldn’t ever use - cheap makeup sets, bottles of fake blood, a set of vampire fangs, a pair of cat ears. Several brightly colored wigs, a second-hand cape, and a large bag of Halloween candy to stress eat later finally completed your purchases for the day.

The group came back to the Tower just before dusk, and the living room of your apartment was quiet when you walked inside. A few lamps illuminated on the end tables gave the space a dark, brooding mood, which was greatly appreciated after such a busy and disappointing day. But unfortunately, Loki was no longer on the couch where you’d left him, and that old book was nowhere to be seen.

“Hey! I’m home!” you called out while setting your shopping bags down by the front door.

An odd silence was the only thing that greeted you.

Usually, Loki would be at the front door, ready to sweep you up in his arms whenever you returned home. But the apartment remained unmoving, even as you called out a second time. When he still didn’t appear, you poked your head into the kitchen while shrugging off your jacket and slipping off your shoes. But that room was also completely vacant, with no evidence of dinner being started or already had.

Loki preferred spending most of his time alone, but occasionally he’d allow an enticing bribe from Bruce or Thor to drag him out of the apartment; maybe he was just studying something interesting up in Bruce’s lab, or perhaps he’d agreed to help his brother play a prank on someone. Grateful for the opportunity to wallow in solitude for a bit, you pulled the giant bag of Halloween candy from a shopping bag and made your way towards the back of the apartment.

You padded down the empty hallway where there was still no sign of Loki. Everything in the entire apartment was clean, and in its place. There was absolutely nothing wrong, and yet it felt like the weight of the entire world was resting heavily on your shoulders. You tried to reassure yourself that it was nothing that a coma-inducing amount of candy couldn’t fix, but even that was becoming less believable with each step forward.

As you approached the bedroom, you thought you could hear the very faint sounds of guitar strumming through the closed door. That gave you pause; certain that you hadn’t left anything on before leaving that morning, you cautiously moved closer, until your ear was pressed against the door.

Yes, that was music you were hearing - familiar music, even though you couldn’t quite place it yet, and you couldn’t help but to smile to yourself. Loki was home after all, and he had been entertaining himself with music while you were out. It thoroughly warmed your heart with an unexplainable feeling of serenity, and pleased that he’d remembered how to use the record player on his own, you waited behind the door to listen for another moment.

Humanity’s wide variety of music was one of the few things about our culture that he’d expressed genuine interest in - which of course, you happily encouraged. It was so much fun introducing him to everything from the classic composers of the 18th and 19th centuries, to the psychedelic rockers of the 20th century. From the upbeat pop groups of your middle school years, to the angsty singers that made up the soundtrack of your early twenties.

You closed your eyes to focus solely on whatever he was listening to now. The music itself was playing low, the singer’s impassive voice just barely audible to you. But you couldn’t tell if it was a really old recording, or if the sound was just distorted after passing through the door.

Off in the distance, a punctuated drum stroke marked the countdown to some inconceivable event, and adrenaline suddenly filled your bloodstream. A low hum vibrated underneath the drum, steady until it wasn’t, and then gradually it shifted into a cosmic wail that seemed to be transmitting itself across all of time and space. A cacophony of instruments, from both the planet Earth and of the stars themselves, finally crescendoed together in a powerful array of astronomical declaration.

A declaration that something was happening at that very moment. Breathed into life with a static kiss, that something was so astonishingly important, and it vehemently demanded immediate witness.

Your curiosity, overwhelming to the point that you couldn’t take it any longer, forced you to carefully reach for the door handle. Its metal, both warm and cold simultaneously, felt like home. It felt unreal.

This felt like opening the hatch to an ancient spacecraft.

This is Ground Control to Major Tom…

You pushed open the door, and immediately let out a startled laugh. Standing in front of the bedroom mirror was a tall and lanky figure, turning himself back and forth while carefully examining his reflection. That part wasn’t surprising; but rather, it was the way he’d dressed himself that was completely unexpected.

You’ve really made the grade…

Bright red and blue stripes lined the figure’s jumpsuit from shoulder to toe, each one evenly separated by thin lines of white. Familiar dark curls cascaded and twisted down past a pair of golden, glittering shoulder pads that only amplified his already impressive stature. Across his right eye, stretching from well below his cheekbone up to meet with his natural hairline, was a crimson lightning bolt. Its perfectly jagged edges were outlined in shimmering blue, and the leather platform boots on his feet were a brilliant, shining red.

And the papers want to know whose shirts you wear…

You knew it wasn’t actually Ziggy Stardust standing there; logically, you knew that much to be true. David Bowie had died several years ago, and while you now believed in alien life on other planets, and magic, and superheroes - you still knew the matter of ghosts to be entirely science fiction.

Rational thought, if you had been capable of it in that moment, would have told you that this was just your celestial partner practicing another one of his illusions. But this mirage was so much more powerful than reason, or fact, or reality could have ever hoped to be. While shoulder-strung spectral harps blared from the record player and the harmonized magnetism of flesh and blood and God stood before you, the only conclusion to be reached was that you’d finally lost your entire mind.

Now it’s time to leave the capsule if you dare…

Other than his hair, his illusion was categorically perfect: the only hint of Loki underneath this glamour was the flicker of mischievous green hiding behind heterochromatic eyes. But those weren’t Loki’s cheekbones, or his lips, or his nose.

They were David fucking Bowie’s.

This is Major Tom to Ground Control…

Your jaw dropped even further when he finally noticed you. He turned someone else’s body, and he lifted someone else’s chin. The illustrious and supernal smile he flashed in your direction tugged at someone else’s lips. But the confidence that radiated out of him, like the infernal rays of an ever-bursting star, belonged to Loki, and Loki alone.

It was different from Bowie’s, but still somehow the same; despite the oddity of both their ensembles, neither outfit had worn either man. And similar to that ethereal mortal from over 50 years ago, Loki’s aura overrode any bewildered question of why, and instead begged the eternal question of how?

I’m stepping through the door…

How was he making this look work for him? Just like Bowie, Loki was equal parts striking and ridiculous. He was magnetic and breathtaking, he was pulling you in while simultaneously stunning the oxygen from your lungs. No thoughts, no words, no sounds could ever truly capture the true essence of this scene, and all you could manage was another stunned laugh as you looked him up and down.

His lips finally moved, but you couldn’t hear what he was saying. A symphony of guitars and keyboards and organs and stringed instruments all crescendoed together to effectively pay tribute to the creation of this universe and drown out his voice. The sound, dizzying and disorienting, overpowered the feel of the floor beneath your feet until gravity was no longer enough to keep you tethered to the Earth.

And I’m floating in the most peculiar way…

Your mind, completely overwhelmed by the glowing specter just ten feet away, had become entirely blank. You were rendered so totally speechless that you forgot every single detail about your past. You simply weren’t you anymore; you were an astronaut from a distant planet on the other side of the universe, and you always had been.

You weren’t standing on the 22nd floor of Stark Tower, you were opening the hatch of an imaginary spacecraft, you were taking that first step out onto an unexplored moon. You were leaving the very first footprints upon its previously untouched surface, and you were carving your name into its virgin moondust. You were leaving your mark for future generations to someday gaze upon, in sheer awe of the audacity to wonder what else could be out there.

And the stars look very different today…

Without even noticing, you let go of the bag of Halloween candy; whether it also began floating or if it crashed to your bedroom floor was no longer any of your concern. All you could think about was if it felt this surreal, this mind-blowing to look upon the real David Bowie. How did anybody manage to not spontaneously combust in his presence?

All sense of relative dimensions lost their meaning. Space was completely irrelevant, time was a fictional construct. The universe was never going to stop expanding, so would anyone ever be able to see it all? How could a numerical value ever be assigned to the entire concept of time? Why were any of us here?

For here, am I sitting in a tin can?

You had no way of knowing how much time had passed, but at some point, Loki must have realized that he’d broken you. Without losing his proud smile, he waved a hand in the direction of your record player. Its needle lifted, and an eerie silence immediately descended over the room.

As soon as the music stopped, part of the spell clouding your mind vanished. A rush of oxygen suddenly filled your lungs, and your heart finally returned to its beating. Blood resumed its journey through your veins, and the floor became substantial underneath your feet again. You blinked once, twice, three times and shook your head, trying to clear it so that you might be able to ask just one of the million questions that all popped up at the exact same time.

“Something the matter, dear?”

Your eyes flew back open. Unfortunately, his glamour was still in place, and it was Ziggy Stardust that gingerly approached your position by the door. And when he’d spoken, it wasn’t Loki’s voice you’d heard - it was the voice of David Bowie.

Unsure of what to do with yourself, inundated and engulfed in sensations of the most flustered manner, you squeezed your eyes shut again. Your arms crossed and uncrossed, your knees locked and unlocked as your weight shifted back and forth. You couldn’t help but laugh and shake your head again.

“Loki, um…What the…” You had to pause to let out a deep, shaky breath, to run your hands up and down your face in a desperate attempt to wake from this very confusing dream. “What, um - are you doing, exactly?”

The air around you warmed considerably as he stopped in front of you, and the amusement in Bowie’s voice, so smooth and so sure of himself, was more than palpable as he spoke.

“Preparing for the masquerade, my dear. The same thing you were doing all afternoon.”

A gentle finger tilted your chin upwards, silently requesting that your eyes open again. When you did, it was Ziggy Stardust staring down at you from his impressive height, his expression curious and the unnecessarily tall boots he stood upon just making everything worse for you.

You gasped breathlessly. Your brain almost melted entirely. The massive crush you’d had on David Bowie when you were 13 years old suddenly roared to life once more. You’d never told anyone about it, because everyone else your age was in love with the much more socially acceptable choices of Nick Carter or Justin Timberlake. Back then, admitting to a near-fatal attraction on an androgynous, bisexual and eccentric musician from the 1970s would have been akin to signing your own death warrant.

Nowadays, such a crush was far more acceptable to have, but you thought those feelings had faded away with adolescence. There’d been no reason to bring it up, not even when you’d first introduced Loki to Bowie’s music. And now you were standing face-to-chest with the physical embodiment of your lie by omission.

Overwhelmed once more, you backed away from him and covered your eyes. “Okay, can you - take those boots off, please? You’re already ridiculously taller than me, so you don’t need them…”

“As you wish, darling.”

His voice, though sincere, was still someone else’s. Admittedly, it was intoxicating to hear Bowie’s voice addressing you in such a loving, familiar tone - but it was also incredibly intimidating. You were already on the verge of collapse as it was; you didn’t need yet another reason to make a very rapid crash landing to the floor.

Carefully, you let out a very slow breath to steady yourself. “And - can you also go back to using your voice, please?”

There was a brief moment of silence, and a part of you wished you could see the enchanting smirk he almost certainly wore at that very moment. When he finally answered, it was in his own voice again, but it was just as amused as Bowie’s voice had been.

“As you wish, darling.”

You let out a shuddered sigh of relief, and your body relaxed somewhat. When you cracked open your eyelids from behind your fingers, he was still Ziggy, but the sight was a little easier to deal with now that he stood at his normal height and spoke with his actual voice.

Now that he was closer, you took in the comforting notes of citrus and cedarwood on his skin, scents you knew to be Loki’s. You swallowed hard, your pupils dilated wildly as you finally allowed yourself to look him over.

“You did this for the Halloween party?” you asked softly.

Loki’s expression was much more reserved now, and he nodded earnestly. “Yes, I thought you would enjoy it. Is that not the case?”

Your breath hitched as you reached out to touch him. Your fingertips brushed along the golden collar around his neck. The material was soft and pliable, not like the polyester you’d find on a cheap costume from a pop-up Halloween store. No, the fabric Loki wore was both real, and it wasn’t. It was the truth, but it was also a lie. He was both mortal and ethereal simultaneously.

“And what made you choose this version of David Bowie to imitate?”

The reimagined figure of Ziggy Stardust shrugged nonchalantly. His gaze, as intent and dedicated as ever, remained locked on your expression while your fingers drifted over to his shoulder pads, and then back down to the center of his chest.

“Well, the other night you remarked on how much I supposedly resembled this particular mortal…”

A shy smile pulled at your lips. “Okay, go on…”

He reached out to caress your cheek, his thumb soft and solid against your skin. “And I was thinking about that film you showed me. The one that used music to tell its story…”

You stifled another giggle by pulling your lower lip between your teeth. Both of your hands found their way to his chest, one of them pulling the zipper of his jumpsuit until you could see just the barest hint of his chest hair.

“A music video. The Space Oddity music video, specifically…”

Ziggy, or Loki - whomever it was - donned a playful grin. “Yes, of course. With the oscillating, dark-green lines. I quite enjoyed that one…”

You nodded absentmindedly. Your fingers, like they had a mind of their own, tugged the zipper down just a little bit further. Its metal teeth, crafted with the utmost precision possible, gave way and unlocked so easily to reveal even more of his skin, and your heart hammered inside your chest.

It was impossible that Loki couldn’t see right through your expression, that he didn’t know about the salacious thoughts swirling around in your head. Like he’d expected you to have this very reaction, he gently slipped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer, until you were pressed all the way against him.

“Darling, I know that the stress of preparing for this particular soiree has been weighing heavily on your mind as of late…” he continued with a soft murmur as he delicately spun you both around and guided you back towards the bed. “And I wanted to do something to help alleviate that burden for you…”

Your heart leapt violently into your throat. At first, it was the surprise that he’d noticed your inner turmoil that did you in, but then it shifted towards dismay over you apparently not hiding it as well as you thought you were.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied with an innocent smile as he slowly lowered you both down to the mattress.

But yes, of course you’d been feeling tons of pressure lately about the party. The Avengers had all known about your relationship with Loki for a while, but the rest of the Tower still didn’t - and neither did the rest of the world. They were all going to find out at the Halloween party.

Loki chuckled and allowed his weight to fully settle on top of yours. “What have I told you about good girls who like to lie, my love?” he murmured softly, his lips brushing teasingly against yours.

While you didn’t really care what everyone else thought about you, what they thought about Loki was many magnitudes of greater importance. He was already in a very precarious situation as it was; depending on the pundit or publication, his every scowl was interpreted as one of disdain for the human race, his every word a threat that he was just moments away from leading another alien invasion.

They already hated him, and they’d never forgive him for New York, no matter how well he’d behaved since.

Your breath shuddered, and your fingers couldn’t help but tangle between the dark curls that were so effortlessly Loki’s. “That they should…do it more, probably?”

Any mistake he made in the field was grounds for his dismissal, anytime he drank a glass of wine instead of a beer was his blatant attempt to dismantle democracy itself. His every move was overanalyzed and deciphered by a bunch of people who had never even met him, who never even cared to know what he was like behind closed doors or in private, when he actually felt safe to be himself.

They didn’t even care that he’d been corrupted by measures of torture they’d never have been able to survive themselves. Or that it had been entirely against his will, or that even while his invasion was taking place, he was subtly laying the groundwork for the Avengers to be able to stop him in the first place.

“A valiant attempt, darling, but we both know that wasn’t what I meant…” he whispered hotly, nippling at your jaw. He adjusted the angle of his hips, and he began to roll them against yours.

You moaned softly in response. Your mind began to melt, this time in pleasure instead of shock. The juxtaposition of Loki and Bowie and Ziggy, though confusing at first, started to make sense. It scratched an itch you couldn’t possibly have guessed that you had, and it created an intense need deep within your soul.

Unable to resist him any further, you captured his lips in a fiery kiss, and he eagerly returned it. His mouth worked hard and fast against yours, in a brand new style of coruscating and devastating passion. Hot and heavy, the kiss tasted just like Loki’s always had, but now it contained an extra dose of stardust.

Loki's hands cupped your cheeks, thumbs brushing against your cheekbones, his hips again rolling against yours. His breath was quick against your skin, his needy groans like music to your ears. This transcendental combination of the past and present, of both the mortal plane and of the stars themselves, somehow craved you this badly and he wasn’t even afraid to show it.

It was so strange; Loki may have come from the stars, but somehow, he was still beholden to you here on Earth.

Within moments your legs wrapped themselves around his waist. Your tongue swiped at his bottom lip, requesting entry, and he granted it. Your hands drifted to his neck, his drifted to your thighs, and your bodies writhed together, eagerly, desperately, hungrily.

The heat between you escalated even further - the kind of heat that usually precipitated the creation of a new star in the sky. Just as you began to yank the jumpsuit’s zipper down further, a shimmer of emerald washed down your bodies, effortlessly and fully undressing the both of you.

You fucking loved it when he did that.

Loki could use his magic to do anything he wanted; he could, and had already, used it to destroy, and to maim, and to control. But now he only used it to protect the ones he’d previously tried to conquer. Now he just used it to love - or when he couldn’t handle not being inside you for another second.

His skin was hot against yours, his hands worshiped your curves. Your body stretched and arched underneath his, taking him in, making love to him like it was the very first time. It always felt that way, like you were floating one hundred thousand miles above the Earth, like the stars were finally within reach and only now could you actually reach them.

Your fingernails dug into his hips. The sound of the creaking bed was soon drowned out by breathless moans against your ear, of prayers and curses and promises. Your toes curled, your eyelids fluttered shut. Wild movements crescendoed into the purest form of what you knew to be the truth: the Earth was blue, the moon was silver, and Loki’s love would always be with you no matter where he went.

The orgasm ripped through you like a gravitational force collapsing the entire universe. Your muscles tensed, your body trembled underneath him. Pleasure seeped out of your pores and you cried out for him, incoherent and delirious. It felt like you had left your body entirely - remarkably disconnected from reality, but still safely anchored to him.

Loki fell off the edge just after you did. His muscles contracted as he clung to you, his voice nothing but shameless groans and heated gasps. With parted lips and a heavy breath, he intertwined his fingers with yours, he buried his face into your neck, and together your bodies finally collapsed within that mutual satisfaction.

An immeasurable length of time passed during the quiet contentment that followed, and by now, the sun had fully set. Unsure of whether you were just dozing or if you’d actually joined the astral plane, you allowed yourself to remain limp and boneless in his arms. Once again, gravity had no authority here, and you found peace just drifting aimlessly through the ever-growing expansion of outer space.

“You never answered my earlier question, darling….”

Loki’s demulcent voice gently pulled you back down to Earth. Your eyelids struggled to open underneath the pressure of the planet’s immense gravity, and suddenly you couldn’t remember anything that had transpired beforehand.

“No, I’m...pretty sure I answered it already,” you replied with a false confidence, stretching your body against his in an obvious attempt to distract him.

He chuckled and shifted with you, propping himself up on one elbow. His other hand traced a swirling pattern along your hip. “And I’m quite certain that you didn’t, love…”

For someone called the God of Mischief, he was surely determined to never let you get away with anything. You let out a laughing groan of frustration, and as your eyes opened, as you looked up into his, your breath vanished from your lungs.

The stars looked so different now. They weren’t Ziggy’s, nor Bowie’s, anymore - they were Loki’s. His glamour had started to fail while you were making love, and now the large constellations of the deepest greens and blues, of Loki himself, were all that stared lovingly back at you.

Loki grinned when he noticed the awe in your expression. His brow arched in a curious and teasing fashion when you couldn’t answer him.

“My goodness, she’s turned into a cosmonaut and floated away, hasn’t she…?” he murmured softly, pretending to talk to himself. He took his fingers and made them dance against the sensitive skin of your neck to get your attention. “Hello, darling? Are you still there?”

Almost immediately you were drowning in a fit of giggles. You scrunched up your shoulders and tried to squirm away, laughing and cursing at him while Loki continued his teasing. But his fingers, tender yet relentless on your sensitive skin, made it impossible to keep your eyes open or coordinate your muscles enough to put a stop to his attack.

“Yes, hello? I was wondering if you’ve seen a beautiful girl in there?” he continued in that same vexatious tone, his hold on you tightening as he nuzzled his face to yours. “She’s my darling companion, and I’ve been missing her terribly. Can you tell her to come back to me, please?”

You let out more breathless laughs, you made more desperate wriggles in his grasp. If you’d been able to see anything, you would have seen his cheeky grin and sparkling eyes, all lit up with mirth and devilry. There was absolutely nothing Loki loved more than play, and perhaps that was the true meaning of life anyway.

But when you finally cried out for mercy, he instantly relented, granting you more benevolence within a single moment of play than he’d ever been given in centuries. And all things considered, Loki was still quite delicate in his handling of you. After all, he had gentleness woven deep within him - the kind that had developed out of defiance, not because it was taught, and that just made him all the more genuine.

Dutifully, like it was an honor, he shifted your bodies so that he was on his back and you were nestled safely to his chest. Your leg curled around his, and after his fingers completed their soothing motions over the skin he’d just attacked, they moved in wide swoops along your back.

“I suppose I should repeat my question then?” he murmured softly after kissing your temple.

His skin, soft and smooth and pale, now smelled like an ancient fire that could burn his way through anything, if he’d wanted it to. It was intoxicating. You wondered if that was the same scent that had once filled the air of Asgard, if you’d ever get to experience it yourself someday.

“Mmm, yeah. I think you should…”

Loki cleared his throat, hesitating. His fingertips drifted up to the divot of your shoulder. “Did you truly not enjoy the costume I chose?”

His voice was so quiet, so tender that it made your heart ache a little bit. You shifted on the bed, leaning up to look him in the eyes.

“No, I did love it, Loki! It was really thoughtful of you, and for a second, I…” You smiled fondly, recalling the moment you first saw him, while one of your favorite songs ever blasted from your record player. “I really thought it was actually David Bowie, back from the dead…”

Loki quirked an eyebrow. “And so naturally, your first reaction was to…laugh at it?”

Your lips pursed together, trying to suppress another one. “Okay, I’m sorry about that. But I wasn’t laughing at the costume, it was honestly just…really overwhelming to walk in and see so unexpectedly…”

“Oh, you found it to be overwhelming, did you?” Loki grinned again, apparently possessing an infinite supply of them. “My poor little dearest, I’m afraid you only have yourself to blame for that.”

“Me?!” you laughed incredulously. “But I’m the victim here!”

So sure of himself, Loki gave a teasing nod. “Yes, you see, darling - I was in the process of choosing the appropriate level of detail for the illusion when you so rudely interrupted me…”

You maintained a playful, sarcastic expression as he explained himself. “Sure, sure. Or you could have just, you know…locked the bedroom door if you didn’t want to be interrupted…”

Loki chucked and playfully swatted at your hip. “So then tell me, what about it was too much for you? I had already decided that the red hair was a bit excessive, but should I alter the clothing as well? The voice?” he asked, his hand now softly soothing the skin he’d just swatted.

You silently thanked whatever it was other there that Loki had decided to keep his actual hair; it was one of his best features. Almost automatically, your fingers drifted through those gorgeous strands of caliginous curls, relishing in their strength and fluidity. He let out a tranquil hum when your touch grazed his scalp, and the sound was so effortless, so real, that nothing else could ever compare.

Unfortunately, your thoughts then drifted towards far less pleasant topics.

No one in their right mind could ever bring Loki’s capabilities as a sorcerer into question, especially not during battle. In fact, Wanda had previously expressed feelings of inadequacy when comparing her talents to his. But he had spent entire centuries perfecting his craft, he’d dedicated entire human lifetimes to his studies - to the point where most people remained completely unaware of its full extent once an illusion had been cast.

A large part of that was because he preferred to remain an unanswerable question to everyone else, especially after the attack on New York. He’d rather they looked at his daggers instead of at his soul, or at the black heart he worried was the true source of his seidr. He didn’t want anyone to know what he was truly capable of, lest they fear him even more - or try to use his own knowledge against him.

But if he wore the illusion of one of Bowie’s personas to the party - not dressed as, but if he actually was the physical embodiment of Ziggy Stardust come back to life - then everyone would know just how afraid of him they should be. You could see the fear-mongering op-ed headlines already - Former Alien Invader Transforms Himself into a Dead Rocker. What’s to Stop Him from Imitating the President Next?

And the critics who didn’t make that massive jump towards an impossible conclusion? You already knew that if he wore the wrong costume to the party, they’d have even more reason to pick him apart; if they secretly loved his costume, they’d simply accuse him of pandering. There was literally no direction for him to go that wouldn’t result in more needless hatred being spewed at him.

Even more pressing than all of that, what if they accused him of corrupting an innocent human when they learned about your relationship? You desperately didn’t want to make his life harder than it needed to be, but neither could you face bringing that concern up to him; what if he secretly agreed with them? What if he decided he was defiling your entire life just by existing within it?

What if he decided to leave you, in order to correct that grievous mistake?

Your fingertips gently traced the angle of his jaw. His eyes drifted closed as he clearly savored your touch, and his expression was just so serene, so peaceful. You couldn’t let him sacrifice that tranquility for the sake of a party; Loki may not have needed your protection on the battlefield, but you sure as hell weren’t going to let him wander into danger back at home.

“Well, maybe the issue is that you were using an illusion, instead of a costume…”

His eyes fluttered open beneath a furrowed brow. His pupils widened before fixating on you. “I don’t understand. The goal is to become the subject in question, is it not?”

You couldn’t help but laugh again; sometimes he surprised you with how human he was, and other times it was because of how alien he was. Letting out a slow breath, you pushed yourself up to sitting next to him. Your legs curled over to the side, and you draped yourself across his chest.

“I think the real issue is that you might be slightly misunderstanding the point of a costume contest,” you began with a gentle smile. “Using magic to alter your appearance for a contest could be considered…cheating, by some people.”

His expression was tender, but unrelenting. “I’m still not seeing the problem, darling. If I’m to become someone else in order to participate, then I’m going to become someone else…”

“But the whole point is how much effort you put into the costume,” you explained with a gentle head tilt. “It’s about how creative you can be with either a limited skill set, or a small budget, or shortened time constraints…”

You paused for a moment to let your words sink in before continuing.

“And I’m so sorry, but using magic just…isn’t that much effort for you. No matter how amazing or lifelike the illusion is.”

He nodded, and his eyes flickered with understanding. For a very brief moment, he seemed to be taking your words to heart. But when his lips curved into a cheeky grin, you knew he was about to make another snarky comment.

“You’re saying Stark will have a conniption if I win the costume contest at his own party? Is that it?”

You sighed and rolled your eyes while matching his smile. It was actually incredible that he still had this much energy to devote towards acting like a total menace. “Yes, if it helps you to think about it like that, then that is exactly what I’m trying to say…”

Loki continued thinking about your explanation for another moment, his gaze distant while his hand ran along the length of your arm. Eventually, the grin on his face slowly shifted towards one of true sincerity.

“Alright then. What would you suggest I do instead?”

You met his gaze with an even bigger smile of your own. All that remained of his illusion was a jagged, crimson lightning bolt stretching down his cheek, and you brought your fingertips down to gently trace along the bolt’s edges. His skin was so very soft, the transition between alabaster and crimson so seamless. It was only then that you remembered one of the purchases made earlier that day with Wanda and Nat.

“Well, for starters…I think we ought to actually paint this design on your face.”

Before he could even respond, you had already hopped out of bed - not that you would have responded to him anyway. And while wearing nothing but a scheming grin, you practically soared across the room, stopping just long enough to grab a few clothes from the bedroom floor on your way to the living room.

“We ought to do what, darling?” Loki’s incredulous voice called out after you disappeared through the doorway.

As you hurried into the living room, you bounced on one foot, and then the other, while pulling the pair of panties up to your hips. After clumsily slipping the t-shirt over your head and guiding your arms through its sleeves, you lowered down to your knees next to the shopping bags left by the front door.

Did you have any experience with painting faces? None whatsoever.

Was that going to stop you now? Absolutely not. His illusion may have been overwhelming, but Loki’s inspiration of picking a David Bowie character for his Halloween costume was beyond perfect, and you were going to do whatever it took to make that idea a more feasible reality.

Rummaging past the bright pink wig and the fringed flapper dress and the vampire fangs purchased earlier that day, you finally found it: a palette of Halloween make-up. The flat, rectangular box contained a few small brushes and a row of circular discs, each one filled with a different and very bright shade of creamy, metallic make-up.

It was definitely a very cheap make-up set, and probably had way too many questionable ingredients that you’d never be able to fully investigate, but it should work just fine for this little trial - as long as Loki let you anywhere near him with it. You were sure that he would after batting your pretty little eyelashes at him.

Back in the bedroom, you could hear him shifting on the bed. You shot back up to your feet. “Don’t get up! Just stay right there, Loki, I’m coming back!”

You carefully ripped into the package as you padded across the living room. Not only was this your first time painting someone’s face, but it might be the first time Loki’d ever had his face painted as well. A twinge of excitement, laced with a hint of unease, swam freely inside your veins; there was a good reason why your skillset had led you towards a career of getting beat up on a professional level, instead of towards a quieter, peaceful career of make-up artistry or hair-styling.

Complicating matters even more was the fact that Loki was quite particular about his appearance. The last thing you wanted to do was ruin this newfound interest in the Halloween party.

When you returned to the doorway of your bedroom, Loki was seated on the edge of your shared bed. His long legs were spread wide, with delicious expanses of thigh peeking out between the tousled sheets. His expression was dreamy and brooding as he ran a large hand through his midnight curls, like his thoughts were a hundred thousand miles away while he smoothed and detangled.

His face lit up when he finally noticed you, but then it dropped when he saw what you were holding. “Please tell me that’s a joke. You’re joking with that, yes?”

You grinned and shook your head like you were trying to fling your nervous energy into a nearby galaxy. “Not a chance. Scoot!” you laughed, waving your hand to get him to make room for you.

He complied, but still let out a frustrated groan as he shifted to the middle of the bed and leaned back against the headboard. “Darling, be reasonable. I’m already getting a rash just looking at that preposterous concoction…”

“Oh, come on! ” you whined, fluttering your eyelashes in a way you know he both loved and hated. “I know it’s not Armani, but you’ll survive a test run with it, right?”

Loki sighed, and then he softly patted the mattress next to him. “You’re lucky you’re so damn adorable…”

“I know. It’s a blessing and a curse for you, isn’t it?”

Having won the first battle, you settled next to him on the bed. Your legs curled up underneath you, and with an innocent smile, you blinked at him once more, a silent request that he drop the final remainder of his illusion. The lightning bolt on his face disappeared with an emerald glimmer, and a playful smirk replaced it.

“Yes, it is. And you’re going to be so very embarrassed if this folderol does actually kill me…”

You carefully pried open the palette and dragged a brush through the creamy, red substance on the palette. “Oh, please. Of all the things that could kill you, it’s not going to be drug-store brand holiday make-up…”

Starting at his forehead, you made gentle strokes against his skin, testing to see how well it absorbed the cream. As expected, it didn’t smear very well, the edges were smudged and uneven. But there was no need to panic just yet - it was still completely fixable. That is, as long as you avoided direct eye contact with him, or else you might become even more flustered than you already were.

Loki’s gaze shifted as you worked, watching either your hands or your face depending on whether you were gathering color or painting his skin. His features were soft, his eyes still dreamy as he watched you work, but you carefully kept your attention towards the task at hand; his attention was like a black hole of colossal proportions, and once you were caught in it, the only thing keeping you from splitting into a million different strands of yourself was Loki himself.

When he realized his alluring good-looks weren’t enough to distract you this time, he switched to a different tactic.

“Darling, do you really expect me to believe that Stark is allowing Miss Potts to paint his face for the party?”

You snorted, expecting nothing less from someone called the God of Mischief. “If Tony knows what’s good for him, he is.”

As you pulled the brush across the bridge of his nose, Loki let out a chuckle and titled his head. “Is that some sort of veiled threat, darling? What happens if I refuse to cooperate with you?”

That little movement was just enough to ruin what might have been a decent brush stroke, and it made you smear crimson down the length of his nose instead of diagonally across his cheek.

“Hey, stop moving!” you gasped and laughed at the same time. “Or you’re gonna wind up looking even more ridiculous!”

“Would it be rude to say that I find that difficult to believe, my love?”

Ignoring his comment, you licked the tips of your finger and swiped it along the edges of the lightning bolt, trying to smooth it out. When the makeup just smeared instead of erasing neatly, a new rush of panic settled in your chest. You licked your finger again and rubbed it harder over his skin, and then you tried using your other, untainted fingers - but all that resulted in was the tips of those digits, and now your tongue, turning the brightest red to have ever existed.

“Something the matter, darling?” Loki asked knowingly, repeating his earlier question. He pursed his lips together, just barely attempting to suppress a vindicated smile as he watched you struggle. “Is the inferior product you insisted upon ruining the homemade look you’d imagined for me?”

Forcing your expression into one of neutrality required a tremendous amount of effort. “Nope. Everything’s going perfectly, my love,” you lied, switching the makeup palette to your other hand. Within seconds, the fingertips of both hands were traitorously stained with the truth.

“Really? You’re absolutely sure about that, darling?” Loki asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he glanced at the make-up palette. “Please correct me if I’m mistaken, but there seems to be more tint on your fingers than what’s left in the container…”

Your face scrunched up in amused frustration, and the unpleasant taste of chemicals and oils now completely coated your tongue. “Mmhmm, this is a…totally normal part of the process.”

His comments were just making everything worse, but you were still determined to see this attempt through to the end. At that point, the makeup palette was discarded entirely and soon became lost within the bed sheets as you pushed yourself up to your knees and shifted closer to him. You took the hem of your t-shirt and pulled it up in a desperate attempt to finally fix the bolt’s outline and salvage your work.

You swiped the soft fabric down the length of his nose, but the make-up must have believed your t-shirt to be a brush, and all you did was push the red deeper into his skin. Silently cursing yourself, you pulled your t-shirt up further and tried to focus on gathering as much color as possible. Secretly though, you prayed that effectively flashing him like this would distract him from making more teasing comments at your expense.

But that didn’t quite work either, and Loki’s chuckle from behind your t-shirt was both leery and leering.

“And now you’ve resorted to seduction as a means of distraction from your lies…” he purred, the sound almost a growl as he brought his hands to your waist. “I’d say our relationship might be having a negative effect on your morality, darling, but you’d be much better at this if it was…”

You were still determined not to let him win, even as a shuddered breath tumbled from your lips. Your heart beat faster in your chest as the entire front of your t-shirt became tinted with red, and your face warmed from the feel of his hands gliding down to your hips.

“It’s fine! It’s fine, Loki. Trust me, I’ve done this a million - ”

“Sweetheart.”

Loki’s voice was kind but firm when he interrupted. He leaned back as he pulled your shirt down, revealing the devastation on his face that your attempts to fix had caused. “Please just admit that you’re not very good at this…”

You gasped and clamped a hand over your mouth. There was red everywhere - in his eyebrows and his eyelashes, across his right cheek and somehow, underneath his chin. The combination of mess on his both serious and amused expression was a horrifying, delightful sight, and you only barely managed to swallow the giggle bubbling in your throat.

Loki arched a suspicious eyebrow. He flicked his wrist and produced a small, handheld mirror with his seidr, and he stared at you expectantly - granting you one final opportunity to come clean, as it were.

“Come on, darling. I will love you no less if you just admit it.”

But you couldn’t; all you could manage was to laugh, cover your eyes and brace for the inevitable as he finally looked at his reflection.

“This is absolutely marvelous, darling,” he finally replied in a wry tone of voice.

You shook while trying to suppress another laugh, but it was all over now. He’d seen the abominable, unskilled attempt at facial decoration you’d left on his skin, and you knew he was never going to let you hear the end of it despite the fact that he was laughing too.

“And you were absolutely right, this is so much better than using magic. Perhaps I should go into battle like this. I could simply frighten our enemies to death…”

You let out a heavy laugh of defeat and let your hands fall to your thighs. You were sure there was probably red make-up smudged all over your own face as well now, but you didn’t care anymore. “Alright, so. Maybe I’m not that great at painting faces…”

“Oh, on the contrary, sweet girl…” Loki chuckled as he tossed the mirror away and pulled you closer, settling you over his lap. He leaned up and nuzzled his nose to yours. “This is impeccable work. Stunning, even…”

“No, stop it! You’re making a mess!” you laughed and tried to look away, but his face followed yours, no doubt just smearing even more make-up all over each other. “Loki! You’re ruining all of my hard work!”

His arms tightened around you. He began to kiss and nip at your jaw, your nose, your neck. “Or am I making it more authentic? Did you ever think about that, darling?”

Resigning yourself to retaliation at Loki’s level, you matched his every kiss and nip with another to his jaw, his nose, his neck. He let out an encouraging chuckle and cupped your jaw with his hands, angling your face properly to his. When your lips finally met, he let out a soft hum, and then his kiss shifted into one of reassurance.

Your arms slid around his neck as he leaned back against the headboard. His lips moved slowly and tenderly as he held you close to his chest, and they said everything that you needed to know. This was okay, he was okay. Aside from a few errant, washable streaks of crimson on his face, nothing real was actually amiss here.

He may have been teasing you before, but he was also loving you. The experiment had yielded far less than stellar results, but that was still okay. A suitable ensemble for the party would be found eventually - or perhaps just better make-up products - and the two of you were still going to have as much fun as someone could have at a corporate holiday party, even if there were a few extra pairs of wandering eyes there.

After another moment or two, the kiss broke naturally. You let out a slow breath and pressed your forehead to his. “Alright, I fully admit that I completely suck at face-painting. We don’t have to go down that route…”

Loki smiled and nodded. A glimmering wash of emerald erased any evidence of red from all skin and clothing. “Yes, I’m quite certain that we can come up with something else…”

By revealing his mortal partner to the world, you’d hoped it would soften the rough edges of Loki that his detractors wanted to keep illuminated underneath a hateful microscope. You’d wanted to protect him, to make his life simpler, to possibly ease his troubled integration on the planet he’d once tried to subjugate.

But the relaxed smile on his lips told you that he didn’t need you to do any of those things. Loki was from the stars, yes, but he only ever clung to one specific thing. He may have come from on high, his perspective and past experiences originating from a millennia away from yours, but he was still here, looking at you. Loving only you.

You were his, and he was yours. No amount of criticism, or any blades held to his throat, or cruel darts thrown at his loving eyes were ever going to avert his gaze. They could make him climb mountains on mountains to get to you, but as long as there were sunbirds to soar back down with, then it was all worth it, wasn’t it?

Your hands slid into his hair, gently tangling themselves within his dark curls. Your eyes roamed slowly over his angular features and icy blue eyes, admiring the planes of his cheekbones and the true depth of his gaze that simultaneously showcased both the wide expanse of outer space and your own reflection within his irises.

Loki was timeless. He was broken and hopeful, grateful and almost too intelligent to not know better. He was pensive, and he understood light and dark better than anyone else you’d ever met. The noir shadows of his heart were what had initially drawn you in, but the hidden brilliance of his glowing soul was what had made you stay.

A new idea coalesced inside your heart, and you settled your hips to his with a sly grin. “Are you by any chance familiar with my favorite David Bowie persona?”

Loki smiled again, but this time he shook his head. “Are you really only telling me now that the Space Oddity himself is not your favorite persona of his?” he murmured curiously.

You bit your lip and reached for your laptop on the nightstand, eager to introduce him to something brand new once more.

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

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octuscle · 2 months ago

Text

Bouncer to Wereteenager

Mustafa was the lord of his little empire. No one got past him. Behind him, behind the door, was one of the most fashionable clubs in the city. Inconspicuous in a rundown side street in the red-light district. But the beautiful and rich of the city gave everything to get past Mustafa into the den of iniquity of hedonism. Who was successful? That was Mustafa's decision alone. Sometimes he liked sneakers, sometimes he hated them. Sometimes he didn't want to see anyone under the age of 25.

Today there was a more mature, elegant crowd in the club. And the spotty guy in the sloppy clothes who stamped out the butt of a roll-up cigarette on the floor in front of Mustafa was definitely not a match for the people who were on the dance floor today. “No way, piss off, kid!” Mustafa growled. “Dude, give yourself a break! Please!!!!” Mustafa waved the next customers over and just left the teenager unnoticed. Fuck! This could not be ignored. The teenager fell to his knees in front of everyone and began to lick the bulge in Mustafa's pants. Damn, yes, Mustafa was hard. A blowjob could be a good change. ‘Boy,’ hissed Mustafa. “Wait for me in the next doorway. I'll take a break in a minute.” Mustafa opened the door briefly and called out to his colleague, ‘Fuck break.’ There was nothing unusual about this. The atmosphere was always sexually charged. His colleague nodded and relieved Mustafa. The teenager squatted on the doorstep of the house as instructed and waited to be allowed to suck a mighty circumcised cock. Mustafa unbuttoned his trousers, pulled the waistband down a little and his boner popped out of its prison like a jack-in-the-box. Mustafa didn't regret the break for a second. The boy knew how to use his tongue. Yes, now and then he bit a little too hard. But damn, he brought Mustafa to ecstasy! And Mustafa squirted so hard that the boy's drool dripped out of the corners of Mustafa's mouth on both sides.

“Thank you, boy,” Mustafa growled. ‘But you still won't get into the club.’ He buttoned up his trousers and was about to leave.

Ziggy's real name was Jeremy and he was actually an investment banker. 35 years old, he earned 400 K a year and was a regular at the club. During the week. On weekends, he hung out with his pot-smoking friends at the skate park and earned a few dollars for weed by giving blow jobs. He no longer knew when and how he had become a wereteenager. Actually, he didn't even know that he was a wereteenager. Today was Saturday night. Today he was hanging out with his buddies and partying. In 24 hours, he would be sleeping in pristine white sheets again, before the week would start at 5:30 a.m. on Monday with a training session with his personal trainer and then a power breakfast. And if he didn't come to the club today... Fuck it. He rolled a joint and looked at his cell phone to see where his buddies were hanging out.

Although he had just cum, Mustafa was still horny. And somehow he felt like smoking pot. He felt dizzy. Why was he here, anyway? He looked at his cell phone. Wasn't that his cell phone? With weed leaf stickers on it and a cracked display. His friends were hanging out at the bus stop. Joey had organized beer. Mustafa leaned briefly against the wall. Damn, he wasn't that stoned...

Reefer looked at the line of people standing in front of the unremarkable door. Shit, did something come for free? Should he also stand in line there? Joey sent pictures of Ziggy, who was rolling a new joint. “Shit, were r u? i need something 2 smoke 2!” Reefer sent back. It was Saturday night, a warm summer night, and they were going to have a lot of fun tonight!

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #age reduction #stoner tf #wereteenager

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eden-writes-stuff · 18 days ago

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Tags: young Marauders, Sirius Black speaks Latin, FLUFF!!!!, just general cuteness and everything is bright and okay and everyone is happy, Remus Lupin thinks he's a monster, Serious-jokes

Word count: 425

"I need to tell you something..." It was more than obvious how nervous Remus was. Hands fiddling with the sheets of the hospital bed, eyes darting everywhere except Sirius.

"I'm... I lied about the illness." "Yeah, I figured. Chronic back pain doesn't explain scars and bandages..." "I know, I... damn it! I need you to promise that you won't tell anyone. Not even James. Nobody!"

Sirius furrowed his brow. This seemed to be important to Remus. He had never seen him so... scared before. "I promise. I won't say a word." "Swear it. Swear on something that matters." The answer came without hesitation: "I swear by the power of David Bowie. If I lie let me never listen to the Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and The Spiders from Mars again." Remus nodded. He knew how important the new album was to Sirius. "Good. Thank you."

He took a deep breath. "I'mawerewolf." "Huh?" "A werewolf." The information took a few moments to sink in.

"You're joking, right?" Sirius tried not to laugh. It was too funny to be true.

Remus just looked at him with confusion. "No. Why would I joke about something like this?"

Sirius crackled so hard that he almost fell off the bed and only barely caught himself. "You- Your na- name!"

While Sirius was having the time of his life, Remus was everything other than amused. "What about it?", he asked, growing more and more irritated. What did his name have to do with him being a werewolf? Trust Sirius Black to make a joke of someone being a monstrous beast.

"You're lit-" Sirius tried to calm himself down, breathe through it, but then started laughing again and had to wipe tears from his eyes. "You're literally called 'Wolf-kid John Wolf'"

Remus was obviously confused. "What???"

It took Sirius a few more moments to gather himself before he could speak again.

"Remus is the brother of Romulus, who was the founder of Rome. They were both raised by wolves. And your last name literally means wolf in Latin. Lupin - Lupus - Wolf." He forced himself to not start laughing again. "Did the guy who bit you frame you for your name or something?"

Remus wasn't sure whether to be offended or relieved that Sirius didn't mind him being a Werewolf. When Sirius started giggling again, he decided to go with the first option.

He pulled the pillow from behind his back and smacked him with it. "Shut up, your name is serious."

That only had the effect of making them both crack up.

#marauders #marauders fanfiction #fanfic #marauders era #ao3 writer #wolfstar #sirius black #james potter #mini fic #platonic wolfstar #gay dead wizards #dead gay wizards from the 70s

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okthatsgreat · 1 year ago

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im a big "not your seed" fan in general but i think one line always strikes me straight in the fucking gut and that's the "did you know that i wanted to live with you?" line. so goddamn good. because it's framed as a genuine question: did you know that? did you know, once upon a time, i had wanted to keep that connection with you? the same connection you had been trying so damn hard to find again this entire story?

it's just so so heartbreaking when put into context of alice and bill's story. because at one point alice DID want to be with her dad, she wanted to be his daughter and spend time with him, but bill just wasn't brave enough to really fight for custody of her ("when you needed to fight you gave her that too"). alice saw this and interpreted it as a betrayal against her, as if he didn't care enough to truly fight for her. which ultimately led to an irreparable amount of trust being broken on her end ("why does it hurt to love you?"), a distrust that could possibly even be seeping into her other relationships ("why does it hurt to love?"/ her paranoia over deb and ziggy during watcher world).

tldr alice and bill have one of my favorite FAVORITE relationships in the entire show because even though they are never both TRULY on stage at the same time (considering the real alice was gone when he arrived at the school) there was still so much depth and realism behind the two characters that god. GODDDDDD

#i just think their story is so heartbreaking #the guy who didn't like musicals #tgwdlm #bill woodward #alice woodward #starkid #hatchetfield #lee chat

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cinnaleaf · 29 days ago

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ESSENCE OF US - CH 17: FOREVER & FOR AFTER

Please read responsibly. This fic will get hot and heavy as the story progresses, 18+ only MDNI | CH 16 | MASTERLIST | Epilogue (soon)

summary: a fleeting encounter with a mysterious Trent leaves you wondering if fate is playing a bigger match. your paths continue to cross in unexpected places as the fragrances around you mirror the growing tension between you. maybe it's just a coincidence..or maybe its destiny in the making.

warnings: SMUT (oral m/f receiving, unprotected sex, praise, teasing, dirty talk), FLUFF (reconnection, personal growth, engagement), mild angst, alcohol mentions, food mentions, irl fire references, links for immersion wc: ~13.4k 💌: this couple has wrecked me. until next time ❤️ song inspo: For Us x dvsn (highly recc listening to feel the vibes)

The sound of your footsteps echoed softly in the empty tunnel, with the occasional drip of rainwater landing somewhere off in the distance. Trent’s hand was intertwined with yours, leading you down to a different area you weren’t all that familiar with.

“Where are we going?” you asked, glancing at him while he led you down the hall. You pulled at his jacket that was draped over your shoulders to warm you up.

“Dressing rooms,” Trent replied casually. “I just need to grab my stuff. It’ll just be us. Everyone’s gone by now.”

You followed him curiously as the hall opened into a larger space. Trent pushed the door open and held it for you, resting his hand on your lower back as you stepped inside. The energy was still in the air despite no one else being around, it was almost eerie, but you wandered further in, trailing your fingers lazily along the polished benches of the dressing room until you stopped in front of one that made you feel an overwhelming sense of emotions.

Isaac Y/L/N

You brushed your fingers over the nameplate, frozen in the realization you were having. It was weird seeing your brother’s name in the same dressing room as Trent’s.

The jacket slipped from your shoulders slightly as you sat down in Ziggy’s spot, giving you a clear view of the name Alexander-Arnold across the room. Trent was crouched down in front, going through his bag, but his eyes met with yours when he noticed you staring at him.

“You okay?” He asked carefully while adjusting from his crouch to sit in his seat across from you.

You nodded, smiling sheepishly. “I’m okay..it’s just weird seeing Z’s name in here. It’s like I blinked and he went from begging my parents to play football to being in the prem.”

Trent leaned forward in his seat, smiling back at you with his hands clasped loosely. “He earned it though. More than most.”

“I know…” you spoke softly, staring back at Trent. “This whole night has been insane honestly.”

Trent stayed quiet while studying your face, but then he leaned back and shifted his expression to a more vulnerable look.

“I almost left,” he said suddenly.

You tilted your head, giving him a confused look. “What? Left where?”

“Liverpool” Trent clarified. “I almost left Liverpool.”

“Why would you even think about doing that?” you asked, fiddling with the zipper from his jacket hanging over you.

He breathed out slowly, dropping his gaze to the floor before catching yours again. “I didn’t feel right.”

You stared at him in disbelief, “But you’re–”

Trent cut you off, letting out a subdued laugh through a soft breath, void of any humour. “I felt stuck, Y/N. I tried different hobbies, tried throwing myself into football..I even tried dating but nothing worked. It felt like I was just floating. I was moving through everything but nothing was moving through me, y’know?”

You nodded slowly, you weren’t sure if you truly did know, but the vulnerability in Trent’s voice kept you quiet.

“And I thought maybe a new city, new people, something shiny and different would make me feel alive again.” He admitted, absentmindedly rubbing his hand over his jaw. “But even just thinking about it made me feel worse.”

You frowned at the thought of it all. “Why didn’t you leave?”

“I tried something else instead.” He glanced up at you with a small smile. “Therapy.”

You blinked in surprise. “Therapy???”

“Yeah,” he responded with a low chuckle. “Mo told me about this therapist...Dr. Ali. She called me out on all my shit, but she helped. A lot.”

Dr. Ali? My Dr. Ali??

Trent went on to describe a technique she used that 100% made you realize it was the same therapist that guided you through your own tangled mess of thoughts. You felt your jaw slack slightly, but you didn’t say anything, too stunned to interrupt him.

“Therapy made me realize I was running away from myself” Trent continued in a quieter voice. “Leaving wasn’t going to fix the fact that I didn’t know who I was without football. Or without…” He trailed off, meeting your eyes to complete his sentence.

You swallowed hard, staring back into his eyes while your heart pounded against your chest, trying to process what he was saying. You were still stuck on the fact that he’d ever consider leaving, but the coincidence of having the same therapist without knowing it really threw you for a loop.

“I didn’t like it at first but therapy helped me work through a lot of shit even when I thought I did everything I could do here. But it wasn’t just that. Your brother helped me more than he’ll ever know.”

“Ziggy?” you added for clarification, as if you had any other brother besides him.

Trent gave you a soft smile. “Yeah. When he started training with us, he had that same spark he had when he hung around me at the park. He’s taller for sure, but he still looks like a kid next to us. Kind of reminds me of when I first started too.”

Trent’s words pulled at your heartstrings as you looked up at your brother’s nameplate and then back at Trent. “That’s sweet. He really looks up to you, T.”

Trent studied your face, baring into your soul from just a few steps away as he stood up and slowly made his way to you. “One day during a rough day at training, Ziggy gave me the same look you’re giving me right now and I knew I couldn’t leave.”

“What look?” you asked.

“Like you’re wondering if you made the wrong decision because you don’t know what happens next.” He cupped your chin with his warm palm, tilting your head up. He brushed his thumb over the corner of your bottom lip softly. “Like you’re trying to figure out if you should run away or just stay along for the ride.”

Trent’s eyes didn’t leave yours once as he kneeled down beside you, taking your left hand in his palm. He brought your hand to his lips, placing a kiss below the knuckle of your ring finger. “That day, I knew I couldn’t leave. And I’m glad I didn’t because if I did...I wouldn’t be here with you right now. Everything always leads me back to you.”

He wasn’t wrong though. Every wrong turn and every miss had both of you still orbiting around each other, even if it wasn’t visible. You felt fluttering in your chest that spread down to the pit of your stomach. The words Trent intentionally spoke encased you in warmth you weren’t sure you would ever feel again. The memory of the past two years filled with shedded tears, aches of missing him, and nights spent staring at your phone wondering if you should unblock him seemingly faded away like a polaroid in reverse, peeling back darkness until the colors redeveloped to lift the shadows and create an image that was now bathed in sunlight.

“Y/N..” Trent started again after your silence continued. “I’ll knit the threads of fate myself until they spell your name. I love you intentionally and I don’t want to spend another minute of my life without you.”

You smiled softly, feeling the corners of your lips tremble as you tilted your head toward him, whispering.

“Then don’t.”

And just like that, neither of you did.

The time that followed felt like stepping into a long lost rhythm. It was natural and easy this time around, feeling entirely new and like a breath of fresh air. Both of you decided to take time and figure out what this version of your relationship would look like by intentionally keeping things private. You only shared with a tightly knit group of family and friends, choosing not to share your rekindling with the world. You didn’t post much on your own social media accounts after the fire, and Trent barely posted on any of his because all the moments he wanted to share were always with you.

Except he still used one account pretty regularly to document something special: Scentimental

The one you still had blocked.

Unbeknownst to you, Trent still used the burner account to document every note he tested while trying to help you finish the fragrance you originally started when you first met him. The one you just couldn’t quite figure out the missing piece to. The memory of the night you vented to him about it replayed in his head constantly. The two of you were lounging on your couch with the TV dimly lighting the room. You started with your head on his lap, but by the time you got so worked up about it, you were sitting upright, motioning your hands around like you were in a meeting.

“I don’t know what to add and it’s pissing me off..” you sighed in frustration. “Everything I’ve tried smells nice, but it’s not it. I want it to smell like how we feel when we’re together. Like–like…”

“Like what?” Trent asked while leaning forward to listen.

You pressed your lips together to try and find the words. “Like warmth. But not the cozy kind. I want it to feel happy, bright, and alive.”

“Like when you wake up the first morning on holiday near the beach?” he suggested with humour in his tone.

You laughed, slightly intrigued but not yet ready to battle with the pride of figuring it out yourself. “Maybe. But not just that. It’s for us so I want it to feel like us. Like everything we’ve ever been through.”

From that day forward, Trent made it his mission to quietly log his attempts on his burner page. You had no idea he was sneaking random bottles into the house, testing scent strips at the training centre or in hotel rooms, each clip tagged with short captions for note taking.

In one video, he wafted a tester strip in front of the camera and sniffed it while frowning. “Smells spicy. Too spicy.” Another clip showed a failed attempt of using a smoky tobacco note. “This shit smells like a cigar lounge. Y/N would hate this.”

One day, he uploaded a final video clip. The view wobbled as Trent adjusted the camera and leaned into the frame holding a vial of gold benzoin liquid he ordered from southeast Asia. “I think this is it” he said while dabbing some of the liquid on his wrist to sniff it. His eyes shut for a few seconds as he took in the notes, and when they opened again, a golden smile spread across his face. “Yeah, this is the one.” He held the vial up to the light, inspecting it with a newfound sense of clarity. “It’s warm and sweet like a honeyed vanilla, but not too strong. It feels like us…like serendipity.” Trent placed the vial on the table with a clink, leaning back in his chair and dragging his fingers over the stubble on his jawline. The camera kept recording as Trent stared off, lost in thought. The faint sounds of outside traffic filled the silence until he let out a quiet sigh, reaching for the hotel notepad on the desk. When the pen hit the paper, the first few lines came slowly as he crafted the words that were running through his head for a long time. His handwriting was a bit messier by the time he hit the third line, spilling out his thoughts faster than his hand could keep up with.

When he finally finished, he held the paper in front of him and read it back to himself with a faint crease in his brow, then he ripped it from the pad, carefully folding it and tucking it into his pocket with a soft chuckle. Trent glanced at the camera again, twitching his lips into an awkward smile. “Alright, so…” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously before continuing again. “I’m pretty sure this is it.” He picked up the vial of benzoin and rolled it between his palms before setting it back down. “But now it’s on me to do the other part.”

He paused hesitantly, but then continued. “I’m gonna ask Y/N to marry me.”

Trent fiddled with the pen in his hand, looking away from the camera as he took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about this for ages and I’ve had this ring–” He stopped himself, laughing in a self-deprecating way. “I don’t even wanna say how long I’ve had it because it’s embarrassing but it’s just…”

His voice grew smaller again, as he glanced at the vial again before speaking. “It’s mad, innit? She’s my person. I know it..I’ve always known it. But now that it’s actually time to ask her, I’m bricking it.” Trent blinked up at the ceiling as his eyes became glossed with tears. He took a deep exhale through his nose. “What if she says no though? Then what?” he whispered more to himself than to the camera, but then he shook his head like he was trying to shake the thought. “Nah. Nah. She won’t say no. She can’t say no. We’ve come too far, right?”

Trent laughed quietly, wiping his thumb discreetly under his eye. “I sound like one of those lads in the Love Island confessionals right now. Why am I speaking to a camera about this?” he muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. After another stretch of silence, he looked directly into the camera with a face that can only be described as terrified, but very deeply in love.

“I just hope she says yes” he said softly with a hesitant smile, tapping his finger over his screen to end the recording before he could get any more emotional about it. The weeks that mirrored the videos he posted were filled with small, but intentional steps to build your forever. While Trent was secretly testing notes, the two of you were creating memories to match, each one more beautiful than the last.

One night, after the twins said they’d be out late, you and Trent decided to seize the rare opportunity to spend a quiet night together. The two of you lounged in the bonus room upstairs, which was mostly meant to be a ‘man cave’ for Ziggy, but somehow turned into a more communal space for everyone in the house. You had a blanket draped over your lap, ready to watch a show called Giri/Haji – a Japanese-British crime drama you knew he’d love.

“What’s this about again?” he asked as the show started playing.

You cuddled up next to Trent, giving him the rundown as the Netflix sound played. “It’s about this detective named Kenzo who’s trying to find his brother in London but it’s not the typical cop drama. It has all these family dynamics and it switches between Japanese and English. Trust me, it’s good.”

“I trust you.” Trent chuckled, pulling you closer to him as he wrapped his arm around you. Neither of you paid attention for long. Somewhere between the opening scenes and Kenzo’s arrival in London, Trent’s hands slipped under the blanket draped over you, tracing slow, lazy patterns on your thigh, edging higher and higher until you shivered, but not from being cold.

“Trent…” you whispered, trying to sound stern, but the minute his lips grazed over your neck you lost all composure.

“Mm?” he murmured while his fingers fully explored the curves and crevices of your body.

You tilted your head back, moaning softly. “I want you so bad right now…”

Trent grinned against your skin, stamping his words on your neck. “C’mere then.” Just as his lips crashed into yours, footsteps thudded up the stairs. You didn’t hear any of it between the noise of the TV and your thoughts drifting in and out of a lust filled haze.

“Hey!” Ziggy’s voice boomed through the staircase. “We’re ba–”

“What the fuck?” you shrieked, yanking the blanket higher so he wouldn’t see where Trent’s hands currently were.

“I fucking knew it!” he exclaimed, turning the lights back on with a lot of dramatics. “You’re both disgusting. Is this what you do when we’re gone? Out in the open?? Right in front of my bedroom???”

“Get out!” you glared at your brother while Trent discreetly fixed your clothing.

“Nah, I’m staying” Ziggy answered smugly, plopping his body directly between the two of you on the couch.

Trent sighed heavily, running his hand over his face because the twins cockblocking your alone time was becoming increasingly more common. “Bro, don’t you have something better to do?”

“Nope, not really,” Ziggy replied with a grin, grabbing controllers from his gaming setup. “Mario Kart, anyone?” Much to your dismay, Ezzie appeared a few minutes later, holding a bag of snacks with a grin. “Sorry to interrupt. Mind if I squeeze in?” She flopped on the couch next to Ziggy with her own controller, creating a twin barricade.

You buried your face in your hands, groaning out of frustration. “Why are you both here? You said you were going to be out late!”

Ezzie shrugged, popping some snacks into her mouth. “Change of plans. The vibe at the club was off. So…are we playing or what?”

Trent gave you a smirk as he grabbed two controllers and handed one to you, making you roll your eyes in playful annoyance. Despite the twins’ precise interruptions, your nights with Trent were still full of lots of love and quiet moments for connection. The time you spent with him was the happiest you’d ever been. When Trent had more time off from football, you explored some of the world’s most beautiful, hidden corners.

In the Dominican Republic, you found yourselves in the secluded beauty of Playa Ermitaño in Samaná. The journey to get there was its own adventure and included boarding a tiny boat that skidded across the Caribbean water and past lush green cliffs that jutted out of the sea. You teased Trent the whole way, watching him clutch the side of the boat every time it rocked too hard against a wave.

“Not a fan of the ride, are you?” you asked, laughing just as another small splash hit his face.

“The boat could be bigger, no? I feel like I’m gonna slip off!” he yelled out, gripping the railing tighter when a bigger wave hit.

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, tugging on his arm to pry him off the railing. “Relax baby. We’re fine. It’s not that deep.”

“Literally or figuratively? Cause both are mad for you to say to me right now.” he muttered while gripping the railing as another wave rocked the boat.

By the time you reached the shore, the sight of the beach was enough to make him forget the ride. The sand was soft, white, and stretched into a crescent shape, framed by tall cliffs and thick greenery. The water was clear enough to see coral reef down below, and the only sounds were the small lap of waves and occasional rustle of palm trees swaying in the breeze. A small group of locals greeted you with smiles, offering you plates of traditional food like grilled fish in banana leaf and fried plantains. After your meal, you coaxed Trent into a calm and shallow edge of water near the shore. He stepped in hesitantly, keeping close to where his feet could touch the sand.

“So you’re really not going to swim?” you asked, floating just a few doggy paddles away.

“I’m in the water. That’s swimming, yeah?” he argued, gesturing around him like standing in waist deep water counted as swimming.

“No..you’re wading. There’s a difference.” You swam closer, kicking your legs as you leaned forward to rest your hands on his shoulders. “Don’t worry, T. I’ll save you if a Caribbean mermaid pulls you under.”

“Baby..don’t even joke like that” he muttered, staring at the saltwater clinging to your skin. Something about the way the sunlight glistened off your wet skin caught his attention even more, and his hands found your waist under the water, pulling you closer while you wrapped your legs around him. “You look so sexy in this bikini baby. Need to take it off of you.” His voice dropped to a tone only you could hear as he brushed his lips against the corner of your mouth.

“Do you?” you whispered back teasingly, grinning while your hands trailed from his shoulders to the back of his neck. It wasn’t long before he had you pinned up against a shallow rock, hidden from view by the cliffs and the water lapping at your thighs. You broke apart when you heard some laughter from another group arriving on the beach and Trent groaned, resting his lips on your neck. “Saved by the tourists” you teased while smoothing your hand over his damp curls. You pushed off of him and back into the water as he watched you swim away with amused and slightly frustrated smile on his face.

In Greece, you explored more secluded islands that felt like old Greece. These trips weren’t the Mykonos and Santorini tourist spots you saw on every influencer’s feed. Instead, you hopped around small slices of paradise like Lipsi and Donoussa where the locals and village cats outnumbered the visitors, and luxury yachts were far and few between.

After a day of wandering around cobblestone streets, you found yourselves in a taverna tucked behind a row of olive trees. The Mediterranean breeze carried the scent of lemon and oregano from the kitchen as the two of you sat under the glow of hanging lights above you, drinking ouzo and laughing like you were the only two people that existed in the world.

“You’re gonna hate this” Trent grinned, holding up his glass of ouzo.

You tilted your head, confused. “What? Why? It tastes fine to me.”

“Nah, not that. What I’m about to say..” he replied, grinning while leaning back in his chair. Trent gestured around the taverna, swishing the ouzo in his glass. “The food, the drinks, the old man who just served us like we’re his family..it’s nice, innit? Good vibes.”

You narrowed your eyes, cutting your eyes at him as you caught on. “What are you on about?”

“I’m saying we could live here” Trent’s smile grew wider. “Just drop everything and buy a house in a little village with whitewashed walls. You could make perfumes from olives or something. I’ll teach kids football and...uh..I don’t know? Fish or something.”

You stared at him, trying to gauge if he was serious. “T.. you can barely swim and I don’t think olive tree perfume is a thing.”

“Not yet,” he countered with a smirk. “But if anyone can make it a thing, it’s you. And I don’t have to swim that far. I’ll just catch some little fish for dinner. Bare hands.”

You snorted, shaking your head at his nonsense. “Mhmm. And I’ll sell my olive perfumes to the two tourists that accidentally end up here every year.”

“Yeah, exactly.” he nodded like you just made his point. “The simple life. Just us. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

As ridiculous as the idea sounded, that little life sounded intriguing, even if it wasn’t all that possible. You looked at his softly illuminated face over the rim of your glass as his smile curved into something just as bright as the Mediterranean sun.

“You would go mad after two weeks” you teased.

“Yeah.. probably,” he admitted, laughing. “But it’d be a good two weeks.”

You smiled, leaning forward to rest your chin on your hand as you stared at him. “I think I like this little life we’re building though. Even if it’s not here.”

And just like that – the ouzo, the sea breeze, and the little taverna existed just for the two of you.

Eventually, you finally made your way to the villa in St. Barts you were supposed to travel to around the time Les Notes d’Amour burned down. It looked like paradise, but calling it paradise might’ve been a little unfair to Trent, who was sprawled out on the bed, completely wrecked and staring at the ceiling like he was praying for some type of intervention after the multiple rounds you had.

“I can’t baby. I’m finished,” he muttered in a tired voice.

You were on top of him, not taking his answer seriously. “T, you said that last time and then you started it up again.”

“Yeah, but I’m sure this time.”

The two of you explored every crevice of the villa in ways that could never make it to any booking listing the moment you arrived. The outdoor shower with the view of the ocean was the first stop, followed by the pool deck, the plush couch in the main lounge, against the trunk of a palm tree, over the balcony, and finally the bed in the master suite. Not to mention the quick detour against the marble counter in the bathroom before your dinner reservations, or the quickie you had bent over the outdoor kitchen area. But still, you were insatiable somehow.

“I need more,” you pleaded, running your nails down his chest.

Trent groaned and covered his face with one hand. “Baby, you drained me dry, literally. There’s nothing left. You won..I concede. Throw in the white flag or whatever you want me to do.”

You pouted, jutting your bottom lip out while leaning closer to brush your lips against his ear. “You don’t have anything left for me?”

Trent peeked at you from his hand and the guilty look on his face made you giggle. He was a mess with a sheen of sweat covering his upper body, and a look in his eyes that said he would if he could, but he really couldn’t. “Baby..I swear if I had anything left you’d get it.” he promised in a soft voice. “But you tapped me out. I can’t even get it up anymore, I tried. I’m fucking knackered.”

You sighed, shifting to lay on his chest while his fingers trailed down your back. “Do you think it would be any different if we came here when we were supposed to?” you asked in a muffled voice against his skin.

Trent wrapped his arm around you to hold you closer. “Nahhh..it wouldn’t have felt like this.”

You lifted your head to meet his eye. “What do you mean?”

“I mean we weren’t us then. Not like this, anyway.” He paused to kiss your forehead. “This feels right. Like it was lined up the way it was meant to.”

“You’re too sweet. I don’t deserve you,” you whispered.

“Yes you do, Y/N,” he replied with no hesitation. “You deserve all of this, and I’m gonna spend every day making sure you know it.” You smiled, tracing your first initial, adding ‘AA’ at the end on his chest absentmindedly. You were finally thinking about it, but you didn’t know if you were ready for it. Every holiday you went on, you thought he may finally pop the question, but he never did. It didn’t bother you all that much, you were enjoying spending quiet moments alone with him – even if you were daydreaming about marrying him increasingly more often. You looked back up at Trent, who was now passed out after his exhaustion caught up to him. You stayed there, pressing your ear against his chest as the rhythm of his heartbeat created melodies with the crash of ocean waves from the shore, lulling you to sleep. You were comfortable, even if neither of you put an official title on what was next – every holiday, late night convo, and quiet minutes spent together felt like steps forward.

A few months later, you and Trent were seated at a conference table for a meeting with your architect as you stared at a huge blueprint of your future home.

“Alright, so I was thinking this area here," Trent said, tapping on the living room section with his finger, “should be open enough to add a trophy display. Something with lights and glass. I want it to be the first thing people see when they walk in.”

You squinted at the plans with a frown creeping on your face. “A trophy area? Are you serious? In the living room like a museum??”

“Nah, it’s not a museum baby.” Trent looked somewhat offended that you were shooting his suggestion down. “Where else am I supposed to put my Ballon d’Or when I win it?”

You couldn’t help it; the laugh burst out of you. “Riiight, because that’s right around the corner.”

Trent snapped his head to you, smirking while also giving you a glare. “When I win, you’ll be the one polishing it.”

“Um, no. I’m not your maid.” You shook your head and leaned forward to study the plans again. “And if you get to have a space for your trophies, then I’m getting a fragrance room. You don’t need a whole room to hold a few trophies.”

“A few?” he repeated in an offended tone. “I have more than a few and I’ll be getting loads more.”

The architect, a patient older man with greying hair, was listening to all of your bickering but he eventually cleared his throat to intervene. “Maybe we can consider a multipurpose space? Something that can display his awards but also house other elements like art or personal collections?”

“Or fragrances” you interjected with a cheeky grin, knowing Trent was probably rolling his eyes next to you.

“Fine,” Trent dramatically sighed, leaning back in his chair. “As long as the gym stays. I need that for work.”

You scoffed as you eyed the massive size of the home gym on the blueprint. “Trent.. you literally train at AXA every day. You don’t need a huge gym at home too.”

“Yeah, but AXA doesn’t have you walking around in leggings and tiny tops” he smirked, making you playfully shove him. “I need enough mirrors in there so I can see that.”

“Flirting with me isn’t going to change my mind” you countered back while trying to hide the smile creeping up on your face.

The architect stepped in again and shifted the conversation back to something more practical. “We can scale the gym down a bit and allocate the space for a nursery in the future? Or a dual purpose area?”

The mention of a nursery made both of you go quiet. You looked at Trent, who had a soft expression on his face. “Yeah... a nursery. I like that idea.”

You took a deep breath, not sure if you were ready to start prepping for babies that didn’t exist yet, so you switched the conversation back to the gym to mask the emotions you felt. “You’re just lifting weights, T. I don’t get why you need a gym here.”

Trent leaned in closer to you, smirking as he loudly whispered in your ear. “You don’t complain when I have to lift you up and help you when you get tired on top.”

“Oh my god, shut up!” you whispered back just as loud, trying to hide the secondhand embarrassment you got from your man mentioning that in front of some greying old man. The architect coughed into his hand, pretending he didn’t hear anything, but you knew he probably heard it all.

After what felt like hours of going back and forth – arguing over color schemes (you vetoed Trent’s suggestion of an all grey scheme), kitchen appliances (he insisted he needed an espresso machine even though he barely drank coffee), and the location of the dining room (closer to the garden was your compromise) – you finally reached an agreement that put a smile on everyone’s face.

The architect made note of the updates with a satisfying nod. “I think we finally have a solid plan here. You’ll both be very happy.”

You leaned back in your chair, looking over at Trent who was taking pictures of the plan with his phone. “You know…” you tapped your fingers on the table, ready to egg him on from all the terrible design ideas he had. “I could probably just buy you out of your contract with how much money I make now from Rêveur. Then you wouldn’t need a gym at all..”

Trent shook his head, laughing at you. “You think you’re that rich, huh?”

“Baby…” you grinned smugly. “I know I am.”

He laughed, reaching to hold your hand. “Good thing I’m with you then. Got a sugar mama already in case shit goes south.”

“Absolutely the fuck not” you argued back while the architect packed up his things.

When the meeting wrapped, you looked over plans one last time, imagining what it would look like when it was finally done. It wasn’t just any house anymore. This was a home – yours, his, and maybe someday, a little more.

Another night on a full moon, you and Trent found yourselves at Lovebirds – a favorite escape whenever Trent managed to carve free time out of his busy schedule. But eventually, going there turned into a monthly ritual. The restaurant was silent except for the occasional clink of a pan in the kitchen. Trent booked it out just for the two of you and your favorite chef who made you her official guinea pigs for experimental dishes she wanted to add to the menu.

“Okay, lovebirds” she called from the kitchen, her voice carried over your date night playlist you asked her to play over the sound system. “You’re on dish duty tonight. You can’t keep getting off this easily if you’re going to keep me here all night. I don’t care if he’s a footballer.”

You smirked at Trent as the chef appeared with a tray of ingredients. “Think you can handle it, T? Or are you going to burn something again?”

“First of all, that was ONE time. You can’t blame me for that, the oven timer was way off.”

The chef laughed while setting the tray down. “The oven timer was fine, Trent. You were just too busy staring at Y/N to notice your soufflé collapsing and burning to a crisp.”

You laughed loudly, watching Trent shake his head. He wouldn’t admit it was his fault, but he was supposed to be on oven duty that night. “She’s lying” he said while nudging your knee under the table.

“She’s not” you teased, standing up to pull him with you to the open kitchen. “Let’s see if you can redeem yourself baby.” The chef handed you each a spoon and started yelling instructions like you were both her actual employees, though she wasn’t being all that serious and was more amused than anything. The night’s experiment was a roasted aubergine spread with pomegranate molasses.

“Mix it slowly Y/N” the chef instructed. “And Trent, chop those herbs really fine. No big chunks…got it?”

“Yes, Chef” you both said in unison as you got to work. You were concentrating, but when you eyed Trent’s attempts at chopping the herbs ‘fine’, you giggled. “T, those aren’t fine. You barely chopped those.”

He held up his uneven pile of herbs. “I did chop them. It’s….rustic. You’ll love it.”

“It’s lazy” you retorted while reaching over to take the knife from him. “Here, I’ll show–”

Before you had a chance to finish your sentence, Trent snatched the spoon from your bowl and dipped it into the aubergine spread you were mixing after quickly adding the herbs. “T! That’s not ready yet!”

Trent couldn’t care any less and popped the spoon into his mouth, humming dramatically. “Nah, it’s good. Perfect even. Probably because I chopped the herbs.” You groaned but couldn’t keep the smile off your face as you swatted his arm. The chef laughed from the other side of the counter, muttering under her breath about how hopelessly in love the two of you were.

A few minutes later, you leaned over to taste the spread, licking the side of your spoon and catching some of the sauce on your lip without realizing it. Trent noticed instantly and leaned in close with a playful look in his eyes.

“Don’t move” he whispered, brushing his thumb over your lip.

You froze and your eyes snapped to him as he leaned in and kissed the corner of your mouth, very intentionally. When he pulled back, he swept his tongue across his lips like he was savoring the taste.

“What was that for?” you asked a little breathier than intended.

“You had sauce on your lip” Trent said nonchalantly, going back to his chopping like nothing happened.

You frowned, touching your lip. “No, I didn’t.”

He smirked without looking up. “Yeah.. you did.”

The chef yelled from the other side of the kitchen to interrupt your little moment. “If you two are done flirting now, I’d like to eat before the next full moon!” You smiled, turning back to the spread while Trent was still smirking with his eyes dancing over to yours every couple of minutes. By the time you sat down to eat, the aubergine spread was perfect, even with all the distractions. The chef declared it her new favorite and sent you home with a jar of it as a thank you for being her “favorite disaster couple.”

All the memories you spent with Trent stayed fresh in your mind, but time waited for no one, and before you knew it – Camille’s wedding day was here. There were months of planning, fittings, reasoning with her through bridezilla meltdowns, and trying to talk her out of a custom drone show for the occasion. When you finally arrived at the countryside venue, you had to admit her and Jules really outdid themselves.

As the maid of honour, you stood by Camille’s side through every meticulously timed minute of the ceremony, dressed in an elegant sage gown – because apparently laurel wasn’t the move anymore. You focused on Camille for the most part, but you felt the unmistakable pull from Trent’s presence somewhere in the crowd of people. You didn’t dare look at him directly, but you could feel his eyes on you like a magnet. Having Trent there didn’t make you as nervous, even as Camille whispered a frantic “don’t cry or you’ll make me cry and our pictures will be ruined” under her breath.

You were a crier at weddings.

A big one.

The ceremony moved in slow motion as every vow and violin string stretched the minutes. You were so focused on not crying that by the time Camille and Jules finally kissed and the applause came, you let out a deep breath and caught yourself glancing toward Trent for the first time. He wasn’t clapping; his hands were resting in his lap, but his face held a certain look of love that made you want to be next to him immediately. The entire time he was never focused on Camille and Jules – his eyes were on you.

Hours later, the reception party popped off with a bang. Drinks were flowing in every corner and people on the dance floor were having the time of their lives rapping along to a Kendrick Lamar song Jules just had to have the DJ play. You successfully delivered your speech afterwards with a little liquid courage and managed to not trip over your words or burst into tears which was a win in itself. At some point, Camille insisted on you joining the bouquet toss despite not wanting to participate at all. You were drunk off your ass and too busy trying to act as normal as possible. When she threw it you weren’t even paying attention. One minute you were laughing at something Jules’ cousin said, and the next – the bouquet smacked you in the chest before you even had time to realize what was happening, catching it in your arms instinctively. Everyone in the reception area cheered for you and Camille squealed from across the room.

“It’s a signnn!” she yelled while clapping, which sobered you up instantly.

“Of course this would only happen to me” you muttered under your breath, trying to hide the embarrassment you felt from all the attention. People at the wedding knew you and Trent were exes at one point, but no one but a few knew you had been back together for a long while. You were hoping no one would catch on.

Later, you found Trent grinning ear to ear while sitting at a table off to the side in a quiet corner. “Didn’t know you were so competitive” he teased as you sat down beside him.

“I wasn’t even trying!” you argued while holding the bouquet up. “This thing attacked ME. Not the other way around.”

“Yeah, sure...” he dragged the words out with a sly smirk. “The bouquet jumped out of Camille’s hands and landed in yours. Unless you have powers like Matilda, I don’t know about that, baby.” You rolled your eyes because that’s exactly what happened, but then you started laughing – courtesy of the champagne you had in your other hand.

The night kept going until you and Trent ended up on the balcony in the cool night air. The venue’s garden stretched out below, bathed in the moonlight as you leaned against the railing. Trent was next to you, nursing his own glass of champagne because he was way too drunk for his own good.

“You know what this means now, right?” he asked, keeping his eye on you.

“What means what?” You squinted at him in confusion.

“The bouquet” he gave you a pointed look. “You caught it, so now I have to marry you.”

You snorted, turning to face him fully. “So that’s how this works? A bridal bouquet decides my entire future?”

“Tradition is tradition.” Trent set his champagne down on a decorative table and drunkenly dropped to one knee.

“T..what are you doing?” you asked, laughing as he grabbed your hand and kissed it.

“Fulfilling our destiny” he slurred, holding your hand up like he was ready to decorate it with an invisible ring. “Y/N, will you –”

“Get up!” you cut him off, laughing so hard you could barely breathe. “Baby, you’re sooo drunk right now.”

“Drunk words are sober thoughts” He dropped his voice as he stood up to slide his free arm around your waist while the other still held on to your hand.

“You’re going to be embarrassed when I tell you about this tomorrow morning” you giggled, tilting your head a little as his lips drunkenly trailed your skin with soft, lazy kisses.

“You have no idea” he kissed your neck again, but this time his next words were very slurred and too indecipherable. “I’m planning it all right now and you have no idea.”

A couple months later, Trent sat at Camille’s dining table, resting his hands on both sides of a small custom box he couldn’t stop messing with. Camille was sitting in her chair drinking a smoothie filled with vitamins now that her wine drinking days were temporarily retired. “I can’t believe you’re finally going to ask her. I didn’t have that on my bingo card this year” she teased while tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “The man who takes forever to make decisions is finally going to propose to my best friend?”

Trent leaned back in the chair, running a hand down his face in annoyance. “Are you going to help me or just chat shit the whole time I’m here?”

“Both” Camille replied frankly, smirking and folding her arms. “Why do you look so nervous?”

Trent hesitated while tapping his fingers on the table. “I’m scared shitless. What if she’s not ready?”

Camille laughed as she took another small sip of her smoothie. “If you wait until she’s completely ready you’ll be proposing when you’re both dead. Y/N is never going to give you a sign that says ‘hey i’m ready now’. But I’m sure she’ll say yes..I’ve seen her Pinterest boards.”

“Pinterest? She has wedding stuff saved?”

Camille nodded. “She’s fully planned out your lives for the next 5 years. Just don’t do anything stupid like big balloons in a hotel room or writing it on a plate with chocolate. She’ll definitely say no if you do that.”

“Nah, none of that. I already planned it out.”

“Oh?” Camille inquired, leaning forward. “What’s your plan, dreamer boy?”

Trent cut his eyes at Camille as he pulled out a notebook that looked like it saw better days at some point in time. “How do you know about that name?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Camille laughed, leaning forward curiously.

Trent flipped to a page covered in lots of scribbles, some crossed out and others underlined with confirmation. “I gotta finish this fragrance she was working on when we first met,” he explained. “I want to add benzoin. It reminds me of us whenever I smell it.”

Camille smiled in awe from the amount of intention he placed in preparing this for you. “You really thought all this through, huh?”

He nodded, closing the notebook. “I need your help bottling it though. It has to be perfect for her.”

“Couldn’t you do it yourself?” she tried to tease, but her lash line was watering and threatening to spill over.

“Nah, not me. I want it to be right. You’re the only other person I trust with this besides her.” Trent admitted while sliding a custom box toward her. When Camille opened it, there were three cutouts, each engraved with celestial symbols – the sun, moon, and an eclipse. Trent carefully placed a bottle of Rêveur into the sun’s slot, then he placed a bottle of Vanille Étoilée he took from your personal collection in the moon’s cut out. Trent handed Camille a third bottle he designed for the new fragrance.

“It’s called Serendipité,” he added in a low tone.

Camille traced the bottle’s engraving with her thumb and then looked up at Trent. “And where is all of this happening?”

“Maui” Trent answered quickly. “Long flight but it’ll be worth it for her.”

Camille cocked her eyebrow. “That’s super far...why Maui?”

Trent rubbed the back of his neck and blew out a long winded breath. “It’s the best place on earth for us to watch the sun set and the moon rise. And it’s calm. No one will bother us there.”

Camille blinked a few times as her eyes filled with tears. She sniffed, waving her hands in front of her face like it would stop her tears from spilling over.

“Whoa..what did I say?” Trent asked, confused at why she suddenly broke into tears.

Camille dabbed at her eyes, sighing with a watery laugh. “I’m fine. It’s just.. I’ve never seen this part of your relationship with her. You’re so nervous and thoughtful about it and it’s–” She paused, biting her lip as another wave of tears erupted. “She’s so happy Trent. And I’m so glad you both finally got it right. That’s all. Don’t mind me.”

“Camille…”

“Don’t” she pointed at him through her tears. “Do not make me cry any more than I already am. I’m all over the place right now. Just take care of her okay? You already are, but keep it up.”

Trent nodded, giving Camille a side hug. “Always.” Camille took a deep breath, wiping away the rest of her tears as she took the bottle and added the last note. “And make sure her nails are done before you ask or she’s going to kill you.”

Trent laughed, reaching for the box as Camille slid the finished bottle across the table. “Got it. Thanks for the heads up.” He placed the final bottle into its spot in the box. Camille absentmindedly placed a hand over the small bump appearing on her stomach, hesitating before she finally spoke up.

“You two can’t keep going on holiday around the world like this. I’m gonna need my best friend for moral support and both of you as babysitters a few months from now.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing. Just focus on your proposal, dreamer boy” Camille cut him off with a smile, still protectively cradling her small baby bump.

As time ticked by, you got closer to your forever, but you would have never guessed the way it came.

Trent insisted on pampering you one day, so you sat in the nail salon, scrolling through your phone for nail ideas as Ezzie gandered at the wall of polishes. She was always quicker than you when it came to choosing – you could sit there for hours trying to choose between two options. Which was why you were still sitting with sample swatches fanned out in front of you, paralyzed by indecision.

“I don’t think you should go with summer colors” Ezzie broke through the tip taps of you on your phone. She squinted at one of the options in front of her.

“What? Why not? You told me summer pastels were in right now!” You held up the sample swatches so she could see them. “You don’t like any of these? What about ‘Sucre Dreamer’? That’s a cute nail color!”

Ezzie made a face. “I mean it is cute...but I think you should try something different.” She wanted to throw you off as much as possible so you wouldn’t suspect anything. “Try this one instead.” She grabbed a bottle of polish from the wall, a soft nude that complimented your skin tone well. She flipped the bottle over to show the name, making her face light up. “It’s called ‘Forever and After’. That’s so fitting.”

“Fitting for what? A wedding I’m not having?”

“Nooooo...who said anything about a wedding? That’s madness…” she wanted to sway you away from any sort of engagement or wedding talk. “But I think it’ll look amazing on you. Just trust me on this.”

You looked at her skeptically, but eventually handed the bottle to the nail tech, “Fine but if I hate it, you’re never picking my nail colors again.”

Ezzie sat back down next to you, crossing her legs and smiling while the nail tech added the color to your nails. “You’re gonna love it.”

The color was perfect once it was finally finished, and you weren’t deeping the name like your sister originally thought you would, thankfully. When you stepped out of the salon with Ezzie, you checked your phone. “Trent’s picking us up for brunch at Lovebirds,” you told Ezzie while checking the time. Just as you were about to ring him to let him know you were ready, another car pulled up and the window rolled down to reveal Jude’s smiling face, but he was in the driver’s seat this time.

“Ladies..”

“About damn time! You’re late!” Ezzie announced with an annoyed tone as she hopped into the passenger seat. She leaned over, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Did you get everything? Did you get their luggage?”

Jude nodded with a grin and you squinted at them in confusion. “Uh...what is going on here?”

“Nothing.” Jude got out of the car, opening the door to the back seat to let you in. “Hop in, passenger princess.” He couldn’t wait to use that against you. You rolled your eyes while sliding into the back seat, checking your phone for any texts from Trent, but there weren’t any. “I thought we were going to brunch?”

“We’re taking a little detour..” Jude confessed, driving farther and farther away from the restaurant.

“A detour to where exactly??” you asked, peering out the window in confusion. “I really don’t like surprises.”

Ezzie shifted her body to look at you in the backseat, smiling eagerly. “Well you’re going to love this surprise. Promise. Just hang tight.” Before you knew it, you arrived at the airport. From the distance, you could see Camille’s family jet in the private terminal gearing up for the runway, with Ziggy and Trent standing on one side, while Camille was standing on the opposite side, wearing a sundress that showed off her growing bump while she waved toward you enthusiastically.

“Camilleee!” you squealed, running over to her to give her a hug. “Oh my days, you’re actually the cutest pregnant person ever for someone who swore up and down they were never having kids. You look gorgeous girl!”

“You next” Camille teased while hugging you back, but then she pulled away with a gasp, pressing her hand into her belly. “Oh! She’s kicking me. See? She agrees with me...she wants someone to play with when she’s out of here.”

You laughed, shaking your head no while waving your hand around. “Umm.. I think I’ll take a rain check on that for now.” You looked around, watching as Jude brought luggage to the jet. You glanced at Camille, then at Trent and the twins who weren’t offering any type of answer or explanation for why everyone was at the airport. “Seriously..what’s going on? I feel like everyone knows except for me..”

Ziggy, Trent, and Jude exchanged some looks while dapping each other up, covering their mouth with their hands while they talked in low voices you couldn’t hear. You looked back at Camille and Ezzie, waiting for some sort of an answer but both of them just grinned, gesturing for you to hop on the plane. Ziggy stood next to Trent, slapping a hand on his shoulder. “Good luck, bro.”

Jude chimed in, throwing in wise words for one of his best mates. “Don’t fuck up and trip over your words. Just say it from the heart, that’s better than trying to memorize any speech.”

After a few more words of encouragement from Jude, Trent walked up the steps, sitting next to you with a huge, but very nervous grin plastered across his face. You looked at him as the jet’s engines came to life, jetting down the runway to carry you off to the little town of Lahaina, meaning ‘cruel or merciless sun’ in Hawaiian, because no matter the weather, the sun would always find a way to shine there.

“Where are we going?” you asked Trent as the jet climbed higher into the sky.

“Anywhere” he replied simply, kissing your temple.

The private flight from England to Hawaii consisted of roughly 15 hours of watching the clouds in the sky until everything became endlessly blue beneath the plane. At some point, exhaustion took over and you drifted in and out of sleep against Trent’s shoulder. By the time the plane began its descent, you were so disoriented you didn’t know if it was morning or evening when Trent finally woke you up. You stepped out of the plane and into the warm Hawaiian breeze. The air felt sweet, carrying notes of saltwater and blooming plumeria and hibiscus flowers. The sun was beaming down, warming your skin in seconds as it casted it’s rays of sunshine over the island. Trent held your hand, leading you to the car as you took in the way the Hawaiian sun made his skin glow golden.

“T...why are we in Hawaii right now?” you asked while stepping into the car. “You didn’t tell me we were going on holiday again! Please, pleaseee tell me you didn’t pack my suitcase?? Oh my god...no.”

Trent laughed, hopping into the driver’s seat while starting the car. “Nah, that was all Ezzie and Camille.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, clutching your heart as he started the drive. You flipped between different radio stations until you found one playing a song called Saltwater Sweetness by Kolohe Kai, which seemed to fit the mood of the Pacific stretching out, sparkling underneath the sunlight on one side of the island while surfers held surfboards while running to the ocean. There were cars pulled off the road at random, passengers either chasing swells or snapping pictures of the scenery. Elevated greenery and low hanging clouds clinging to the mountains were on the other side of the island, painting a beautiful picture just below the blue sky. Banyan trees lined the streets for patches of shade over the roads as you took in the sacredness of the land. “This is breathtaking. It’s so pretty here.” you sighed in amazement, rolling your window down to let the wind breeze through the car.

Trent glanced at you quickly, mainly trying to keep his eyes on the road because there was nothing to save you if he happened to get distracted. “Wait until you see where we’re staying.”

As you drove from the north side of the island to the west, you pulled over at a local roadside stand from the smells of fresh banana bread wafting through the window. You followed Trent hand in hand to meet an older woman behind the stand who had dark hair that was beginning to silver.

“Aloha!” She greeted you with a warm, welcoming smile.

“Aloha,” you shyly replied, glancing at the loaves neatly wrapped in rows on display. “This smells so amazing, we had to stop for some.”

“Mahalo (thank you)” the woman gave you another smile, more weary this time. “Been selling here for years. It helps keep me busy.”

Trent picked up one of the loaves, juggling it in his hands, genuinely curious. “You make all of this yourself?”

“Every batch” she nodded proudly. “I used to sell from my house but the Lahaina fires took my house with it. So now I’m here as long as I can be.”

“I’m sorry to hear that..” Trent replied apologetically.

Your heart fell to your stomach. You knew exactly what that felt like. You caught a QR code taped to the side of the stand but then your eyes drifted to a teenage girl off to the side, behind the stand watching over two younger kids while they kicked a ball around. The girl looked up at you and gave you a faint smile with heavy eyes. You eyed the QR code again, nudging Trent gently to catch his attention too. Once he noticed, he pulled out his phone without another word and scanned the code, entering a large sum. He turned the screen toward the woman and her hand flew to her chest when she read the number he entered.

“Ke Akua pu (bless), thank you,” she whispered in a trembling voice. “You didn’t have to–”

“It’s nothing,” Trent interrupted in sincerity, but also with a cheeky wink. “Just paying for our banana bread. I bet it tastes as good as it smells. Thank you for this.”

“Better” she replied more steadier. “Aloha ‘oe (bye, much love to you). Be safe and remember to leave nothing but your footprints! Respect the āina (land)”

You and Trent headed back to the car, fighting for pieces of banana bread that tasted even more amazing than the smell of it, which was already hard to beat. When you finally arrived at the hotel, you were beyond tired. You dragged to your suite with tired footsteps, smelling the faint scent of plumeria in the air. When Trent opened the door you wanted to plop down on the bed immediately, but you walked over to peer out the windowed door of the large balcony, catching glimpses of the outdoor lobby below that had a lush gardens, oasis pools, koi ponds, flamingos, and was steps away from a breathtaking beach.

“Do you want to check out the beach?" Trent asked, pulling his shirt over his head.

You glanced at your phone to check the time and groaned. “It’s nearly three in the morning back home. I’m so tired, T. Bed now..beach tomorrow.”

After freshening up, you both flopped onto the huge bed, falling asleep before the sun set. The next morning was spent at the beach after a short walk and you saw a local vendor selling Hawaiian shave ice. You ordered a pineapple, coconut and banana shave ice, insisting it had to be the best one, but you forgot how strong banana flavored things could be. Trent went for a passionfruit, orange, mango, and guava flavored shave ice. You took your spoon and tried to steal some of Trent’s but he pushed his shave ice away protectively.

“What are you doing?” he laughed, turning away from you when you attempted to steal some again. “Baby, you have your own!”

“But yours looks better,” you whined, leaning over to sneak some onto your spoon anyway. He shook his head, switching his flavor for yours because he knew once you tasted it you’d end up eating the rest of his anyway.

You spent most of the day relaxing until a big family loudly disrupted the normal sounds of the beach. You nudged Trent and pointed further down the beach at a family in all white matching outfits. The mum had a large vlogging camera in her hand, yelling at her kids to look natural while they posed for what was supposed to be an ‘unstaged’ video clip.

“Where do you think they’re from?” you asked, giggling at the mum’s attempts to wrangle five kids into one video shot.

“California. Gotta be” Trent answered without a doubt in his mind. “Those are influencers.”

You watched attentively as one of their kids stomped away from the mum after she yelled at him for not smiling enough. “No, that’s definitely Utah. Matching outfits, exactly five kids, everyone’s blonde, and they’re rich. Those are Mormon vloggers on holiday.”

Trent raised his sunglasses and tilted his head to look at you, squinting from the sunlight. “Yeah? What do you think their channel name is?”

You laughed and thought for a second. “Probably something really corny like LuckySevenFam”

The longer you people watched, the crazier the family became. You watched them litter the beach with random snack rubbish, try to touch baby sea turtles, and one of their many kids complained they were bored despite being in literal paradise. Once the mum finally got everyone in line for the picture, a rogue wave splashed onto their blinding white outfits making the kids scream, the dad shook his head, and the mum was fuming from her perfect shot being ruined. You turned to Trent with a look of disgust on your face as you continued eating the shave ice he traded with you. “Please tell me we’ll never turn into whatever that is.”

Trent tilted your head towards him with his hand and leaned in to kiss you. “Never.” When you finished the shave ice, you and Trent got up to throw it in the bin, picking up the family’s leftover snack rubbish in an effort to leave nothing but footprints behind. After finally leaving the beach for the day, you and Trent headed back to the hotel to get ready to catch the sun set on Mount Haleakala. While Trent was in the bathroom, he discreetly pulled out Serendipité and sprayed it on his pulse points before putting it back in its place in the box. When he came back out, you smelled it immediately and thought for a second, trying to figure out why it smelled familiar even though you never smelled it until now.

“T..what are you wearing?” you asked while spraying a perfume from one of Camille’s collections that she packed for you. “That doesn’t smell like Rêveur or anything I’ve made.”

Trent fidgeted around with a bag to hide the box, then he looked up and smirked at you. “Guess.”

“I don’t know..”

“Your guess is as good as mine then. I don’t know either.” he replied, taking your hand and heading out the door. That irritated you immediately and you rolled your eyes, annoyed while heading out.

The drive up Haleakala felt like a dream being painted in motion. The sky that was once vibrantly blue, shifted into soft pastels. Streaks of lavender and orange painted across the horizon with chunks of white clouds blending into the scene. The higher you drove up, the cooler the air got as the towns of Maui disappeared into the pillowy clouds that were now sitting below the car now that you were nearing the top. Trent’s hands tapped chaotically against the steering wheel and he was quiet and fidgety. Every now and then he would glance at you and smile. You figured maybe jet lag or the altitude was messing with his nerves, or maybe the winding roads leaving no room for any distractions. For a second you thought to yourself:

Wouldn’t it be funny if he proposed here?

But the thought quickly erased from your mind when you noticed how quiet Trent was.

“What are you thinking about?” You finally asked, turning to him. “You’re acting so strange.”

Trent’s fingers stopped tapping the wheel and he laughed, still keeping his eyes on the road. “Baby we’re one wrong move from falling off this volcano. I’m just concentrating on the drive.”

You crossed your arms, unhappy with his answer as you looked out the window at the landscape. Trent knew you were irritated with him and spoke up again, “I’ll tell you soon, Y/N. Just wait.”

“Wait for what?” you pushed with attitude, but his focus went back to the road and the conversation ended there. When you finally arrived at the top and stepped out of the car, the view took your breath away. The sky transformed to a vibrant orange color melting into deep shades of pink, blue, and violet. The doughy clouds stretched below and seemed close enough to touch and in that moment it was just you, Trent, and heaven on earth.

“I’ll never be able to describe this in words. It’s so beautiful up here” you whispered, barely audible from being so awe stricken at the view displayed and ever changing in front of you.

“Yeah. It is.” Trent spoke just as softly, but he wasn’t looking at the view at all – he was looking at you. He reached into a bag and pulled out an engraved box. The second you saw it you eyed him with a curious brow.

“What’s this?” you asked, running your nude colored nails over the box when he handed it to you.

“Open it” he urged, stepping closer to you. “That should answer all your questions so I can finally ask mine.” You unclasped the magnet top from the box and recognized the two fragrances you cherished so much, but then you saw a third you didn’t recognize. The name Serendipité was scripted across the custom label and you pulled it out to bring it to your nose. The scent smelled exactly how you felt with Trent at this moment. Like a beaming sun in the heavens of earth with an ever changing backdrop.

“Trent..is this...?” you trailed off, unable to form words from the beautifully overwhelming view and such an intentional, loving gesture from your soon to be fiancé.

“I finished it,” he answered quietly. “You said you wanted it to feel like us..so I finished it. I wanted it to be perfect for you baby.”

Tears began spilling from your face and you shook your head, way too overwhelmed but very much in love. “It’s perfect, T. It smells just like–”

“Us.” he finished for you, stepping closer.

You were still holding onto the bottle, trying to process everything when you noticed him shift. Trent’s eyes reflected the sky through his pupils and by the time you snapped out of it, he dropped to one knee. You rolled your eyes in disbelief. “T..no. Get up. This isn’t funny anymore and it’s getting old.”

He laughed and took your hand in his. “Baby I can’t get up this time.”

“Wh-what?” you stuttered, glancing around but there was no one else in the area besides the two of you, the sun setting, and the moon peeking slowly over a cloud.

Ohmygod.

Trent took a deep breath and then began speaking. “From the day I met you, I knew you were something special and worth getting to know more. I’ll never regret sitting next to you that day. You changed my whole world, you made me realize things about myself I never thought possible. Every day I get to wake up and see your beautiful face is a day I’ll never take for granted ever again. You mean the world to me, YN. The time I spent away from you was the lowest I ever felt, and still somehow the universe led me right back to you. I never feel like I have enough time with you, but I want eternity with you. I bought this ring the same day you sent it to me because I knew I never wanted to spend my life with anyone else but you forever, and even after. Will you marry me, Y/N?”

When you saw him holding the ring in his hand you gasped, covering your mouth with your free hand as your other hand began shaking in his hand from excitement and pure adrenaline.

“Yes. Oui. Si. Ja.......How many more do I have to say before you put the ring on me?” you sniffled, impatiently waiting for him to slide it on your finger. Trent’s hands shook when he pulled the ring out to slide it onto your ring finger. He stood up, pulling you into his arms as you buried your face into his neck while still crying. He kissed your temple, your lips, and anywhere else he could reach.

“I love you, Y/N” he whispered against your skin.

“I love you too. I can’t wait to spend forever with you.” you replied with a kiss on his lips, both of you turning to watch the sky go from pastels to a twinkling night sky bathed in the moon’s bright light.

Later that night after a celebratory dinner, you and Trent walked back to the hotel room, but every few steps he would stop just to pull you close to him and kiss your neck, your shoulder and whisper ‘I love you’ in your ear.

“I can’t wait to get back to the room” he whispered into your ear in lust filled anticipation. His hand moved to your waist, squeezing the side of your hip. “You have no idea what calling you my fianceé is doing to me right now.”

You bit your lip, feeling butterflies swoon around in your stomach as his fingers continued to brush against the fabric of your dress.

“T..” you whispered when he nipped against your jaw. “We’re in the middle of the lobby.”

“So?” He gave you a cheeky grin, looking around but it was late and mostly everyone had returned to their rooms by now. “No one’s here. And you look way too beautiful right now."

You giggled, “Baby, I’m sure they have cameras. Calm d–” Trent silenced you with a kiss, entering the lift and walking you in backwards. Once he pressed the floor button, the ride up to the suite became almost unbearable from Trent sliding his hands down your back to your ass while continuing to kiss your shoulder and neck. When the door opened, he grabbed your hand and walked quickly to your suite, fumbling with his wristband fob to open the door. The second he got it open, he led you in and spun you around, bringing his lips to yours again as he walked you backward toward the bed. “I want to taste you,” he whispered against your lips while pulling down the straps of your dress to reveal your sun kissed skin. He removed your dress in a rush before removing his own clothes and laid on the bed, pulling you on top of him with a flip over so that you were straddling his chest from behind. You looked back at him from over your shoulder, smiling while biting down on your lip.

“You’re not shy,” he teased in a rough voice. “C’mere and sit, baby. I want all of you.”

You slowly lowered yourself on him but he had no patience and gripped your waist to pull you down to meet his tongue. Trent hungrily slurped over your pussy, jetting his tongue out to flick against your clit in a steady motion. Your head fell down while you slowly stroked his shaft up and down, feeling him stiffen against your palm. You peppered soft kisses on the tip of his dick and then wrapped your mouth around him, making him groan and thrust up a little.

“Fuck. Keep doing that.” he groaned against your skin before going back to lapping at you like he couldn’t get enough of the taste of you. You tried to push the intense feeling aside and focus on the way he twitched every time you massaged his balls while adding suctioned pressure on his cock. Both of you were battling to see who could make the other crash over the edge first, so you increased the suction and took him further in your mouth with tears obstructing your vision from your gag reflex as your head bobbed up and down. You moaned against his dick to drive him crazy and Trent’s hands gripped your thighs tighter while his tongue moved against your clit until you couldn’t think straight anymore. You thought you were winning when he let out a familiar sound that meant he was close, but he shifted gears and started fingering you while he attacked your clit.

“Don’t stop, right there” you gasped, losing your rhythm as pleasure took over your body. Your hips rocked against his face needily, your moans loud. “T-Trent.. I’m – fuck, I’m–”

“Let me taste it, baby” he commanded, muffled against your skin while still lapping you up. “Cum for me.”

A cry tore through your throat as your body shook against him. You clenched your thighs around his head while he held you down with one hand, and raked his hands over your back to soothe you as you came down from your orgasm with the other hand. You had no time to recover before he flipped you back over to face him and gripped you to lift you up and position you above his cock so you could sink down on it.

“Stay on top for me?" he cooed while running his hands down your thighs to make you shiver. “I want to watch you.” You nodded and shifted to bend your knees on either side of him, bracing yourself against his chest as you bounced on top of him, filling the room with moans, gasps, and wet squelches. Trent’s hands ran up your body, trailing over your nipples and pinching them enough to make you whimper.

“So damn beautiful” he affirmed, never taking his eyes off you. “Look at my fianceé taking me so well. You feel so good baby... keep going.”

Your legs started to shake from the burn you were feeling from trying to keep up the pace. “T…I can’t.”

“Nah, keep going. I’ll help you.” Trent gripped your hips and lifted you up to thrust up into you, making you scratch at his chest from the deep strokes. When he sensed you were too tired to keep going, he pulled you to the edge of the bed and shifted your legs to the side, hiking one knee up to your chest for a fun angle.

“Fuck” you moaned with a jaw drop when he slid into you. The snug fit paired with the depth was almost too much to bear, making you whine his name. He grinned and leaned down to kiss you before pulling back and increasing his pace. “You like the way I fuck you?” he asked, giving you deep strokes paired with nipple play.

“Yesss,” you gasped, gripping his forearms while your body arched up to him. “You fuck me so good, T.”

“You’re so pretty like this” he locked his eyes on yours, licking his lips. “All mine. Just like this. I’m gonna make you feel like this whenever you need it, beautiful.” You squeezed his dick with your muscles from his words and his face twisted in pleasure with a clenched jaw, heavy breathing, and concentration in his brows. Watching him lose himself inside you made you wetter as he thrusted harder.

“Babyyy” you moaned while dragging out the word in an attempt to warn him you were about to orgasm.

“I know,” he groaned, leaning down to kiss you again. He pulled at your bottom lip before sliding his tongue inside your mouth, breathing and groaning between kisses as he filled you up with white ropes of cum. The warm filling made you feel full and tipped you over, causing your pussy to squeeze his cock with a strong grip but he didn’t stop moving and continued to roll his hips up against yours until you were both thoroughly satisfied. You grinned into another kiss when he whispered “I love you” against your lips, eventually echoing the love back – full of emotion.

“I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, T.”

The days spent in Hawaii after the engagement blurred into a montage of sun soaked heaven: lazy mornings spent walking the beach to catch the sun rise, hiking trails that twisted through the lush greenery of the island, the sticky sweetness of Hawaiian malasada donuts on your fingers, sipping mai tais with sand still clinging to your toes at a beach bar, helicopter rides to get a view of the whole island, and sunset sails while watching cliff divers leap from Black Rock at Ka’anapali Beach as a treasured nightly island ritual. Your time there floated through like a dream and before you knew it, you were back in England.

One night, you heard the patter of rain against the window while you and Trent laid in bed. He was cuddled up against your stomach with his eyes closed as you massaged circles into his scalp, making him hum.

“You okay?” you asked in a soft voice under the dim lighting.

“Head’s still banging” he spoke low, wincing from his exhaustion and dull aches. “This feels good though. Thank you, baby. I might just fall asleep right here.”

You smiled and leaned forward to place a kiss on top of his head. Your gaze drifted over to the bedside table where the photobook he created for your first anniversary lay. It was slightly worn on the spine from being opened and closed so much. You reached over to pick it up carefully, flipping through the pages while keeping one hand on Trent’s head to keep massaging it. You flipped through until you reached the photo of Ziggy and Trent smiling brightly in front of the camera while you and Ezzie were in the background, playing with daisy crowns. You shook your head, laughing softly.

“What’s funny?” Trent mumbled against your pajama top.

“Nothing” you answered quietly, turning the book slightly so he could see the picture you were looking at. “I just can’t believe you’ve been here this whole time and we never realized it until years later. It’s mad.” Trent cracked one eye open, glancing at the picture with a sleepy grin.

“Yeah? Would you have given me a chance when we were kids?” he asked, curiously.

“Mmm..I don’t know. Something about seeing you at the park used to annoy me…still does actually, but I can live with it now.”

Trent laughed, wincing a little from his headache. “Baby, that’s fucked up. I thought you were cute but Ziggy would never tell me anything about you. You were kind of weird though so maybe I wouldn’t give you a chance either.”

You giggled, flicking the back of his head with your thumb and index finger. “Careful. I’ll make this headache worse than it already is.”

“You give me enough of them already with the wedding planning” he bantered, shifting around to make himself more comfortable. “You’re lucky I love you.” His words trailed off as he fell asleep, and you continued to flip through the pages. Eventually you closed the book and placed it back on the bedside table. You lifted your left hand up to catch the sparkle of the diamond against the dim lighting.

None of this was luck.

It was serendipity – a chance encounter that turned into forever and after.

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