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abiiors · 10 months

Text

august

a/n: another fic set in italy? mmm, maybe the author has a type

minors dni!! mentions of alcohol, smut

wc: 4.1k

“there you are. i’ve been looking for you…”

matty’s fingers still on the rim of his glass as soon as the words fall on his ears. it’s a high-pitched voice, girly and excited. it sounds like one of his fans. and that is the last thing he needs right now.

he sits frozen in his chair, eyes firmly straight ahead, at the bartender cleaning some wine glasses with a rag. if he doesn’t turn around, maybe whoever this is will go away. they’ll get bored of his cavalierness or assume he’s drunk, high, or both. who’d want to deal with a pissy rockstar on an evening as beautiful as this one?

the owner of the voice does not go away.

“i was talking to you,” she says and he hears the tell-tale scrape of the bar stool next to him being pulled back.

the girl is definitely somewhere around his age, maybe even a good three or four years younger. she’s dressed for an italian night; a flowy dress, her hair curled in loose waves—or perhaps it’s from the salty air—blows gently with the breeze and still fans her face perfectly.

she is pretty. matty has seen prettier.

“do i know you?” he asks. sure, there’s a small rude tinge to it but he’s really not in the mood right now.

on any other day, he’d be all for sacrificing a bit of his personal space to entertain fans. fuck, he’d happily share a drink, especially on a quiet night like this when he’s alone at the bar just sipping on his rum and coke. all they ever do is ask for a photo or a quick chat. if they’re locals they ask if he likes it here. as if his answer validates the existence of an entire town.

“no,” she replies and smiles wide at him. perhaps a bit too wide.

“you said you were looking for me…” he feels dumb for even asking it since it’s such an obvious ploy. a line to chat him up at the bar.

the girl briefly glances over his shoulder and at something behind him. it’s quick, but his paranoid brain tracks the movement.

“i’m cara,” she says, “can you pretend like you know me?”

the quick shifty glance is back, it simultaneously intrigues and unsettles him. what if this girl is with some tabloids and about to make it his problem?

he can already see the headlines splashed everywhere–

matty healy with a mystery girl in italy.

has matty healy eloped with mystery girlfriend?

of course, she won’t stay the mystery girl for long if she’s here with the tabloids. she’d get her fifteen minutes of fame. he’d have to find a new hiding spot. and he can’t have this taking away this attention this close to the album release.

“what do you want?” he asks. it’s quite openly rude at this point but he doesn’t give two shits about it.

“can you pretend to know me?” she asks again. then she screws her eyes shut.

a little crease forms between her brows, the first mark of imperfection on her otherwise smooth face. when she opens her eyes again, the too-wide smile is gone.

“okay this is embarrassing…i was here on a date? he’s behind you—don’t look!” she chastises when he immediately turns around. sure enough, there’s a surly-looking older man at a table right behind him. matty turns around and raises an eyebrow in judgement.

“no, i know!” she whines as if they’re decade-long friends. “he didn’t look like that in his photos.”

“tinder works here?” because somehow that’s the most astonishing thing about all of this. for tinder to even be a thing in this tiny town, nestled—quite literally—between two rocks.

“yeah! not the point…what’s your name?”

“matty.”

“no the point, matty,” she continues without taking a second to breathe. “he keeps talking about fish and ugh, they are so slimy! but i think i’m going to fall asleep if i have to hear about italian marine life one more time!”

the indignation in her voice makes him laugh. almost. it would have, if he’d moved on from the barrage of things happening all at once.

“and then…” he tries to stir her to the crux of this conversation. because something about her face tells him she’s not done ranting about the fish.

“and then i pretended to run into an old friend, that’s you, by the way,” she points at him with one well-manicured finger, “who i hadn’t seen in years!”

finally, the girl takes a deep breath, gulping in air to make up for all the breathless rambling. “so,” she presses her hands together, almost in prayer, “can you pretend to know me?”

matty looks behind him again at the man. he’s definitely in his forties, fifties even. nowhere near in age to the girl in front of him. and he can’t see the usual signs of a tabloid reporter—his phone is not out, there’s no notepad, no shifty glances towards bushes where there might be other people hidden with a camera. this man only stares at the girl and shoots dirty looks at him.

“yeah okay,” matty turns back to her, “cara, was it?”

“yeah…” she trails off. “can i buy you a drink? as a thank you?” then she winces, “and also so we can pretend to, um, catch up?”

matty chuckles. he still doesn’t fully believe that this isn’t an elaborate scheme of some sorts (quite narcissistic of him but oh well). but the more cara speaks, the more he finds himself relaxing in her presence. it’s a…lot. but it’s a good change from the quiet two weeks he’s had.

“sure,” he says “but only if you tell me more about tinder.”

cara slides a slick black card towards the bartender, asking for a bottle of rouge. she doesn’t care about the good years for wine. the bottle in front of her is older than both of them, possibly even both of them combined. the drink in matty’s hands is almost over, only the vestiges remain with a thin wedge of lime, and she feels like it’s a good evening to drink a bottle of good vintage red.

especially when her company is as gorgeous as the man in front of her.

his face is familiar, fascinating—dark, wild curls that frame his face in an effortlessly messy manner. he’s wearing a casual linen shirt that softly settles on him as if it’s made only for him. and maybe it is; he looks the type to ‘invest in quiet luxury’. people don’t just come to remote italian towns alone unless they’re trying to escape.

“so who are you running from?” it’s meant to be a ha-ha funny joke but she can barely suppress the curiosity in her voice.

“are you always this direct with strangers?”

so he doesn’t find it as funny as she does. but cara doesn’t let herself wilt at his tone. it’s not as curt as it was before, which was fair enough. she had stepped into his private bubble on what was probably a quiet evening.

it also doesn’t slip her notice that he answers one question with another.

“mm, no,” she shrugs, lifting up her glass to clink onto his, “just the pretty ones.”

she’s not usually one to shy away from flirting but this statement surprises her as much as it does him. for one, it’s not meant to be flirty. it’s simply a fact she’s stating.

the sky is blue, tomatoes are disgusting, and matty is pretty.

“cin cin,” she lifts up her glass, before taking a swig.

matty eyes her for a moment, curiosity finally seeping into his eyes, slowly taking her in. it’s not lecherous but it’s also not not interested. she knows when men want her, she knows when they overconfidently think they can have her and she knows when they know they can have her. matty falls under the latter category.

“so who are you running from?” he echoes. matty rests his chin on his palm, looking up at her through his long eyelashes.

his wine glass lays abandoned on the counter, barely touched but cara is flattered that he finds her more interesting.

“not who,” she says, “what. i’m running away from boredom.”

her tone is conspiratorial, a whisper, and matty rolls his eyes. she doesn’t bother correcting his assumption that she’s joking. it doesn’t matter really, they always think what they want to think. she can sense their conversation dying down. maybe they will sit here awkwardly now till her date goes away, maybe she’ll have to make the dreaded small talk but matty surprises her by talking again.

“for the record, i’m not running.” he picks up the glass, swirling it lightly before taking a sip of the wine, “i’m only hiding.”

with half the bottle gone, conversation flows easier than it did in the first fifteen minutes. between sips of the rich and delicious wine, cara has managed to glean that he lives in london and he will fly to new york at the end of this month.

“a traveller,” she says appreciatively and matty clicks his tongue.

“a workaholic,” he counters. “where do you go after this?”

“new zealand, i think.”

“you…think?” he raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “a spontaneous traveller?”

it’s her turn to laugh then. “a spoiled nomad.”

that’s her usual explanation for her job. because explaining to people that she can’t stay long in one place for fear of being bored out of her mind feels too shallow, too personal. besides, why does he even need to know more? it’s not like he’s a permanent fixture in her life.

and what she really doesn’t want to say is that she’s just a silly, frivolous girl chasing one summer after the other.

“freelance pays well,” she says instead. it’s vague enough.

matty is on his second glass by now, swirling it around mindlessly while he talks to her. she can’t resist looking at his hands. long, graceful fingers, perfect for a pianist but there’s also the callouses on the pads on his fingers. nails cut short and clean but there's also the bitten-down cuticles.

“are you going to tell me that the wine tastes like…” she deepens her voice comically, putting on a posh, classy french accent, “pears, cherries and the suffering of the peasants.”

it surprises her when matty bursts out laughing. it’s not big and boisterous, it’s boyish, a giggle that just escapes out of him. cara almost wants to coo at how cute his teeth are, crooked and uneven in a charming way instead of the straight, white teeth she’s so used to seeing on people in her world.

“mm,” he runs his tongue on his bottom lip, licking up a stray drop, “the undertones of young jean-luc’s tears really come through.”

cara laughs distractedly at the joke, much more focused on the way his tongue runs on his lip. a sudden heat flares through her at the sight. how long has it been since she’s been properly fucked?

the alcohol makes her blood flow faster, freer, and the man in front of her makes electricity course through it. how cliché is it that she wants to sleep with the first gorgeous man she ran into at a bar? but cara only vaguely pays attention to the judgemental part of her brain.

she leans over, the age old cheap tactic to give guys an eyeful of her cleavage but matty keeps looking into her eyes, right at her.

“you genuinely only used me to get away from your date?” there’s a curiosity in his voice that piques her own. he sounds like he expects there to be more, like they’re not supposed to be strangers. or rather…he’s not supposed to be a stranger to her.

“are you like, some royal prince or something?” she giggles, “you’re making it sound like i should know you.”

that makes him laugh again, the same giggle from before but a bit dimmed now. “not a prince, no. it’s just before… you said you were looking for me, when you first found me.”

“oh that,” yeah she does remember that. she waves it away, “only something i said for marco, the date, to overhear.”

“still,” he counters, “you said you were ‘looking for me’. you didn’t say ‘oh, i thought it was you,’ or use some random name to cover up the fact that you didn’t actually know me. you said you were looking for me.”

she puffs out her cheek, thinking back to her words. she had indeed said that. “i guess i was… looking for someone to help me out? you didn’t, and don’t take this the wrong way, you don’t look like a local. i assumed anyway, that you would speak english. guess i was right!”

matty slaps a hand on his chest, dramatic and clutching at the soft linen shirt, the material wrinkles and moves under his fingers revealing the hint of a tattoo.

“you don’t think i look italian?”

“mmm no, too pale,” she teases, “not nearly enough wine drunk on such a pretty night. you were sulking!”

“i was not sulking,” he cries with mock indignation, leaning closer to her now.

“you were!” she matches his pitch, “brooding even, like a true byronic man. i should have guessed you were english.”

“a byronic man…” matty trails off, “that’s a first.”

they’re close now, leaning in together conspiratorially almost, one pulling the other in with their gravitational pull. cara just wants to let her instincts take over.

she places a hand on his knee, slowly inching it upward.

“we could make this a night, you know… stop you from sulking.”

if he’s shocked by her rather bold proposition, he doesn’t show it. matty watches her, warm breath cascading over her face that spreads a layer of goosebumps over her skin. her body feels hot and flush, much less the effect of the warm summer evening and alcohol.

“i…wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

his fingers trail up her arm, tracing the path of her goosebumps, the small tattoos she’s gotten all over the world—some errant lyrics in costa rica, a skyscraper in new york. matty has his own tattoos too; beautiful ones and shabby ones. numbers on the inside of his wrist and a singular word on the back of it—DAD—that looks like it was done by someone with access to a tattoo gun and a lot of weed. then there’s the one she’d seen peeking between his chest.

matty’s eyes are blown out, pupils dilating the more he looks at her.

“fuck…you’re gorgeous,” he says, watching intently as she shies away from his gaze.

“matty…” cara breathes, his name slipping out from between her parted lips seamlessly. “let’s go.”

their breaths mix with each other; heady, dizzying, and electric. cara doesn’t know if it’s the wine coursing through her body or the man in her arms, but every touch of his fingers makes her see sparks. they grip around her waist tightly, digging through the fabric of her loose dress. they dent into her soft skin and she feels held, supported against his stature.

“we have to stop kissing long enough,” matty laughs against her mouth. because here they are, lingering in midnight dark italian alleys. racy breaths echoing against ancient cobblestones as they fight to control their teenage lust.

cara nods frantically, unable to tear her hands away from him for longer than a second. his hair is as soft as she’d imagined it would be, slipping between her fingers now that she musses it up.

“you’re a nymph,” he teases when she sucks on a spot on his neck. but then his hands are back on her chin, guiding her mouth back to his. the kisses that are all urgency—teeth and tongue and lust. they make her see stars.

somehow they peel away from each other, stumbling for a few more feet, laughing breathlessly when matty pulls her against a wall again to kiss her neck, right above her collarbone in a way that makes her knees go weak.

“okay, okay,” she tries to push him away. but cara is weak and full of want. “okay,” she says again, “we go back to your room now and i’ll show you,” she nips at his jaw playfully, “i’ll show you what a nymph i can be.”

so he grips at her hand, running along the little alleys giggling to themselves and each other. this is just another hook up for cara, a one night stand with a gorgeous man she met at the bar, nothing she hasn’t done before. but she feels alive like this, young again, back when she used to sneak out of her bedroom at night to hook up with her first boyfriend, the thought that her parents might find her missing adding equal amounts of thrill and fear.

there are no parents to catch her now, no consequences for sleeping with whoever she wants to. but she misses that thrill.

matty makes her feel that thrill.

she bounces on the balls of her feet, impatient and excited while matty fumbles with the keys. the damn door wont open.

“fuck it,” he curses, pulling her into him again and kissing her already swollen lips.

sweat rolls down her back out here. she’s dying to feel the cool air of the ac on her skin. she’s dying to feel his hot mouth on her skin, his feverish kisses.

he finally manages it, to pull himself away from her, to put the right keys in the old-fashioned lock, to make the creaky door swing open. they get jammed into the narrow door, trying to get in at the same time and they burst into a fit of juvenile giggles.

someone shushes them loudly as their laughter echoes into the quiet of the night. an elderly tenant perhaps but that only intensifies the giggles.

his linen button-down is the first to go as soon as the door shuts—discarded by the door casually. it gets half caught up on the doorknob but neither of them notices, too lost in the kisses again. neither of them bothers to turn on the lights either.

cara suspects matty knows this room like the back of his hand by now. she doesn’t need to. she can trust him at least in this regard.

“matty,” she half-speaks, half-moans, “i want you. i want you right now.” it’s a needy and desperate confession and it turns him on even more.

his hands are fast and nimble, eager to remove the barrier of clothes between them. still, he takes a moment to watch the straps slide down her skin. lips parted in awe and pupils blown out wide.

cara watches him. simply because he looks beautiful.

“like what you see?” she teases and watches him swallow roughly.

it’s certainly a sight—them standing opposite each other, matty in his trousers, her in delicate lace panties that have a bow on them. no bra, because no girl on a holiday in italy should be subjected to one.

he walks backwards, eyes firmly on her body, lingering in all the places that make her feel like the sexiest woman on earth. he walks backwards till he eventually finds the bed and sits.

“come here,” he says, beckons more like. so she does—walking with a deliberate sway to his hips that his eyes train on until she’s standing right in front of him. knees touching his.

“wow,” he says, looking up at her in awe, “wow, you’re beautiful…”

cara knows she’s beautiful, she knows she won the genetic lottery from her attractive parents, it doesn’t make her vain and shallow. but hearing him say the words is still a delight. he makes it sound like he’s consumed by her beauty (even though it’s likely the bottle of red that’s hazing their thoughts), he makes her feel like his own little midnight sun. bright, unique, central to his universe.

sober cara would never think such stupid thoughts.

wine drunk cara lets him pull her onto his lap.

she kisses him again, slow and sensual this time, rolling her hips against his, grinding on the coarse material of his jeans. it’s deliberate torment, a torturous build-up so he could finally relieve the ache between her legs.

“please,” she breathes, “touch me.”

so he does, gently gripping her waist to keep her in the steady rhythm while his mouth moves down to her breasts. his tongue flicks around her nipple, drawing out a gasp and making her arch her back. she wants more, so much more.

so cara decides to take charge.

with one gentle push, matty’s on his back, and she on top. his bulge brushes against her clit, drawing out whimpers. moonlight filters in through the windows, illuminating matty’s face only just so that she can see his swollen lips—red, delicious—she can’t resist stealing another kiss.

he helps her undo his belt, fingers brushing while they fiddle with the buckle together, laughing into the kiss at their clumsiness but once the belt comes off, so do his jeans and boxers. and then matty hooks a finger in cara’s underwear to slide it down her hips and past her thighs until they’re flung in some corner of the room.

“so wet,” he moans, lowering her on his abdomen. his erection is pressed against her ass now; she’s ready and aching, eager to feel him. but some shred of common sense still remains.

“i’m not fucking you without a condom,” she giggles and watches the realisation dawn on his face.

he shifts under her, reaching for the bedside drawer. the movement makes her hiss with pleasure. all this build-up, and she can’t wait two more seconds for him to put the condom on.

cara shifts onto his thigh, grinding slightly and pumping his base with one hand until he’s done putting it on. she watches the way his eyes roll back in pleasure; if her hands have this much of an effect, what happens when…

matty’s hands are on cara’s waist, lifting her up and gently guiding down his cock, filling her in inch by inch. she splays a hand on his chest, barely registering his racing heart. all she can focus on is how good he feels; hard and stretching her out. filling her to the hilt.

“shit baby,” he hisses. his hands grip her ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh while she rolls her hips on his pelvis; uses him to get herself off essentially.

she can already feel a bruise blooming on the back of her thighs where he grips her possessively.

“fuck, you feel good,” she mumbles, already consumed by the feeling of his tip hitting him over and over, in just the right spot. matty’s hand reaches down and between then, finding her clit and rubbing it in circles until she’s screaming his name and practically soaking him with her slick.

matty moves his hips too, thrusting up, fucking into her till a continuous string of curses falls out of his mouth. his chest glistens with sweat, sticky and warm and beautiful in the moonlight. cara is lost in the pleasure but she traces the outline of a tattoo, the name of another woman. matty is not important enough to her yet to feel anything about the name. but she can appreciate the beauty of it.

the pleasure builds and builds, her thoughts swirl more and disappear entirely the more he thrusts into her. he’s figured out her pattern—the rhythm that makes her tick and drives her crazy. and even when her thighs burn and tremble, she can’t seem to slow down.

she just wants to soar up and up and up until…

matty’s hand is between her legs again, flicking her clit so roughly that it makes her cry out. and that’s what drives her over the edge.

cara moans his name, as waves upon waves of pleasure crash over her. she’s vaguely aware that she gripping onto his shoulders tightly, vaguely aware that she can feel his cock twitching inside her. maybe he’s cumming too but this isn’t about him.

gasping, cara throws her head back, letting the orgasm wash over her. the loud, filthy, wet sounds are softer now, slower in pace as they both come to a stop. no one says a word—there is no ‘oh that was so good’ or ‘let’s do that again’. there are only their breaths, out of sync and loud.

cara slumps forward, resting her warm cheek on matty’s chest, hearing his heart beating loudly in her ear. she feels…happy. probably just post sex endorphins. but she still relishes the feeling of matty’s hand threading through her hair, gently lulling her into sleep.

she doesn’t know how long they stay like that, but she has already drifted off by the time matty’s heart beat returns to normal.

i would love to know your thoughts pls <33 (this is scheduled but i am lurking like a ghost tihi)

#matty healy #the 1975 #matty healy x oc #matty healy fluff #matty healy smut #matty healy x you #matty healy x reader #matty x you #matty x reader #matty x oc #summer romance #minors dni #fluff #smut #angst #matty healy angst #being funny in a foreign language

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funnyshapedpuddles · 3 months

Text

ok how do i do this

i guess here's an

✨introduction✨

cause i keep forgetting.

so here's a few things about me

so first thing you should know about me, is that I'm pretty awkward and still kinda new to tumblr, so idk how to do a lot of things on here.

second thing, which probably should have been the first but whatever, is hi my name is Archer.

dont worry about spam liking/reblogging my stuff, i will love you for it.

also if you compliment me, I'll take it as a marriage proposal, so don't do that

I'm a ✨minor✨.

I'm currently eating strawberry Italian ice.

I'm an artist, and yeah you can totally request for me to draw something. especially sanders sides since that is my current hyper fixation.

idk why anyone would, but if you want to tag me in something you can.

if you wanna be mutuals just ask, I'll totally follow you back

I'm in a lot of fandoms so here's my main ones

Harry Potter (I'm a Slytherin)

somewhat new marauders fan

percy jackson/the entire riordanverse

heartstopper

stranger things

keeper of the lost cities

sanders sides

hunger games

anything spiderman

hazbin hotel

helluva boss

some of my favorite music artists (cause again, there's a lot) in no specific order

taylor swift

yungblud

enhypen

stray kids

conan gray

noahfinnce

måneskin

paramore

artio (please check them out they're so cool)

troye sivan

cavetown

harry styles

sabrina carpenter

*forgets the rest*

please interact if

you're in one of the same fandoms

music is your life

you like cats

you're also currently eating strawberry Italian ice

you're a reader

you're an artist

you want to elope and run off to live in a cottage in the forest and raise cats and pretend to be witches

you're lgbtq+

please dont interact if

you're homophobic or transphobic (why are you on tumblr)

you're racist, sexist, or discriminate valid groups people in any way.

you dislike stuff i post.

idk, if you wanna know anything more, just ask ig

#idk #I'm really tired so this probably sounds bland #I'm sorry #introduction #late intro post #toast #trans artist #I'll probably post mostly art and incorrect quotes

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nugnthopkns · 3 years

Text

whatcha say we just get away?

word count: 6.5k

warnings: explicit fem!reader, marriage, cursing, fleeting mention of future children, some kinda cheesy wedding tropes

recommended listening: side effects | jade bird

a/n: the idea of a big wedding scares the living daylights out of me so i wrote about eloping with tk :))

When Travis asks you to marry him, you think he’s joking.

The two of you are standing in the kitchen piecing together lunch. It’s a sunny Tuesday in Port Stanley, and Travis wants to take you out on the boat this afternoon.

“What if we got married?” he says casually, putting the finishing touches on his sandwich.

You shrug it off and continue chopping vegetables. “You’re hilarious. Got an upcoming audition with SNL?”

Travis doesn’t seem to like your response. He bumps your shoulder gently. “I’m serious.”

“This isn’t a joke?” you ask, setting down the knife and turning to face him. “You want to marry me?”

He nods and rests his hands on your hips. “I’m absolutely positive. Will you marry me?”

No words come from your open mouth. Not wanting him to think you’re saying no, you nod your head vigorously. Travis’s laugh echoes off the small kitchen, bringing you back to earth slightly. His right thumb rubs comforting circles on your hip bone. Overcome with love for Travis, you curl your arms around his neck and pull him down to meet your lips.

The kiss is passionate but incredibly soft. You both hold so much love for each other and do your best to convey it in the small gesture. Time passes you by, but you don’t mind. If you could kiss Travis forever you would. Eventually he pulls away for air but doesn’t let you go. Resting his forehead on yours he asks another question. “Is that a yes?”

You find your voice. “Of course you idiot!”

His smile lights up his entire face and it makes him look much too young to be betrothed. You suppose he is, that you both are – under twenty-five with your whole lives in front of you. However, you know that Travis is it for you. No one compliments you like he does, and no one ever will. Travis loves you wholly and without hesitation, and you hope he can see you feel the exact same way.

“Fuck,” Travis groans, and it makes you arch your brow. “I don’t have a ring,” he explains. “I didn’t think I’d get the balls to suggest it or that you would say yes.”

A laugh bubbles over your lips as you shake your head. “I could care less baby,” you insist. “We don’t need rings to show how much we love each other.”

The two of you stand in the kitchen a while longer, kissing languidly and basking in the deeper level of love that comes with devoting your lives to one another. Lunch is long forgotten as you get ready for your afternoon adventure, but you remember to grab it on your way out the door. The drive to the water is almost identical to every single other time, spent singing along to the radio and laughing at the terrible impressions Travis tries to orchestrate, except this time your smiles are brighter and the sideways glances are sweeter.

For being a beautiful day in a community of mostly retired people, the waters of Lake Erie are scarcely populated. The two of you essentially have the kilometres of coastline to yourselves, which feels like a sign from the universe to enjoy the newest honeymoon phase of your relationship. It’s so nice to spend an abundance of time with Travis in the summers, and it almost makes up for all the time you spend alone throughout the winter months. You let him navigate the boat wherever he wants, laying across one of the plush leather benches with your eyes closed. Occasionally, when Travis hits a wave a little too head on, water sprays gently over your face but you don’t mind. Truthfully, it offers a short respite from the heat of the sun’s rays.

While you lounge your mind begins to wander to what your wedding will look like. Large crowds have always made you uneasy – you aren’t like Travis in that regard, able to feel comfortable in whatever environment you may be placed in. The idea of a small wedding is nice, but the two of you know too many people and pointedly not inviting a large number of them fills you with anxiety. Feelings would get hurt, people upset they can’t fight for a minute of your big day, and you’ve heard horror stories about wedding guest lists ending friendships. You also know your mother will want to have input in almost every decision, from bridesmaids dresses to cake flavours, and that’s not something you’re sure you can handle. Suddenly marrying Travis is a lot scarier a concept.

You realize that these are ridiculous thoughts to be having. You got engaged less than three hours ago – there’s no reason for you to immediately start planning the event. For Christ’s sake, you don’t even have a ring yet. Regardless, your mind replays your fears on a constant loop. All you can do to quell the storm in your mind is sit and focus on the taut muscles of Travis’s shoulder blades.

“Now that we’re engaged you’re just going to ignore me?” Travis jokes, dropping the anchor and making his way over to you. He had pulled into a small bay, mostly out of view from the public and hard to find, so the two of you could swim and enjoy each other’s company in peace.

You shoot him a pointed look, and he immediately understands there’s something lying beneath the surface.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

It’s stupid to be stressing over thing so soon, but you can’t stop. You wonder if you’re even going to be able to go through with the wedding seeing you’re already so worked up about it. Travis kneels in front of you, hand on your knee as his eyes meet yours through two pairs of sunglasses. “No judgement here sweetheart. Say whatever’s on your mind.”

You know he’s being sincere. There’s never any judgement from Travis. No matter how dumb a statement or how terrible a fashion choice he never thinks any less of you. “I was just thinking, well overthinking, about the wedding,” you mumble. “And I know it’s stupid because we have nothing planned and don’t have rings but I can’t stop myself from stressing over it. I legitimately don’t know if I can plan a wedding.”

“That’s quite possibly the farthest thing from stupid,” he insists. “It’s a valid thing to be worried about. Honestly, I don’t know if I want to take the heat for not doing things the way others think they should be done. But we have so much time to figure everything out.” Travis pushes himself off the ground and slides into the seat beside you. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and places a peck to the crown of your head.

“I think that’s part of the issue Trav. We won’t get married until next summer, which is fine, but I’m going to have so much time to overthink every single decision.”

Travis doesn’t respond verbally. Instead, he grasps your left hand in his and raises it to his lips. The kiss he presses to your ring finger, where the engagement ring would be if you had one, sends shivers down your spine. It’s a simple gesture, sweet and to the point, but it grounds you. No matter what happens, the two of you will face it together hand in hand.

The water is cold when you eventually get in, but it’s refreshing and allows you to relax. You do more floating than serious swimming, watching as Travis swims laps around the small area you’ve claimed as your own. “Can’t even take a break from training now that we’re engaged?” you ask, throwing him the same jab he gave hours ago.

“Gotta stay fit for the big day,” he pants, obviously tired from trying to up his endurance level. “Holy fuck, I’ve swam nearly three kilometres since we got in.”

You’re wickedly impressed and have half a mind to challenge him to keep going, to see how far he can go, but you can tell his energy is fading. Pretty soon he’ll be ready to fall asleep and you can’t drive the boat. Not wanting to be stuck on the lake overnight, you speak. “Let’s get you home there cowboy. I’ll drive once you park this damn boat.”

The rest of the night is quiet. Once back on dry land, you take control of the reins, jumping into the driver’s seat before Travis can protest. You stop to pick up dinner from a small pizzeria on the main street before continuing to the modest cottage you call home in the summer months. It’s all Travis can do to keep his eyes open on the ride home, and as soon as he finishes his pizza he’s asleep on the couch, head resting heavy in your lap.

You card your fingers through his hair, scratching lightly at the scalp as you read your book. While you were in school you didn’t have much time to read for pleasure, so since graduating you’ve been trying to catch up. You graduated nearly two years ago and still haven’t made it through your to be read shelf, but it isn’t for lack of trying. It seems that new books constantly find a home there and the three books a months you average isn’t cutting it. Maybe one day when you retire you’ll be able to make a serious dent.

It’s silent while Travis sleeps, but you find it comforting. There’s nothing to distract you from the fictional world playing out on the pages, and you lose the anxieties you’ve felt simmering since thinking about your very distant wedding. When Travis wakes up an hour later you’ve finished your book and are staring at the ceiling.

“You could have gotten up to grab another,” Travis murmurs, voice laced with sleep.

You shrug. “Didn’t want to wake you. Plus I just wanted to think about some things, how I want to tackle the next year.”

Travis frowns, and you can tell he’s regretting asking the question because you’re so obviously worked up.

“I know what you’re thinking, babe,” you say to comfort him. “And you’re wrong. There’s nothing I want more in the world than to marry you. I just didn’t realize how hard it was going to be to do things without pissing off half the people we want to invite.”

You slowly peel away from him, holding out a hand and smiling when he takes it. The two of you retire to your bedroom, and get ready in silence. You know Travis is still mulling things over, and quite honestly, you are too. Preparing to get married, no matter how far away the day might be, is a lot. After brushing your teeth and washing your face you settle into Travis’s open arms, tracing over the tattoos that call his bicep home. Travis unwinds in his own way, twirling a lock of your hair around his index finger.

“What if we eloped?”

This question is as sudden as when he asked you to marry him in the first place. Your hand halts its actions immediately, moving to his chest so you can push yourself up to look at him. “You’re serious?”

He nods enthusiastically, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Dead serious. I know you’ve never wanted a big wedding,” he says. That much is true. You’ve never enjoyed being the center of attention, and the idea of more than twenty people watching your every move has you freaking out. “You’re so stressed already about pleasing everyone that I’m worried you won’t be able to enjoy it when the day actually comes. And to be quite frank, I could give less of a shit about the ceremony or reception. All I want to do is marry you because I love you. So let’s get rid of the things we think we have to do and just do it our own way.”

A single tear slides down your cheek. You can’t help it – you’re so relieved he’s willing to do whatever would make you the most comfortable, even if it means sacrificing something as important as a proper wedding. “That would be perfect.”

Travis kisses you for what might be the millionth time today but you do not care. His lips are soft against yours and make you feel safe and warm. Nothing goes too far as you’re both just enjoying the thought of such a special moment being between just the two of you.

“I was also thinking we could do it this week,” he says casually, as if no work has to go into this because you’re eloping.

You sit up immediately. “Pardon?” you ask shocked. “Trav, just because we aren’t going to have a wedding doesn’t mean we can just do it whenever we please. We need to get a marriage license and make an appointment at the courthouse.”

“It’s the middle of summer and we live in an area where the youngest people other than us are like fifty, I think things will come together pretty quickly.”

It’s hard for you to argue with his logic. Travis has a point – the chances of other people trying to get married in the next few days is very slim. The idea doesn’t sound horrible either, getting to marry the love of your life as soon as possible. You agree to look into things in the morning and fall asleep curled into Travis’s chest, his arms secure around you.

Wanting to get married within the week turns out not to be a problem. After Travis completes his morning workout the two of you travel the short distance to the courthouse to get a marriage license. It’s incredibly easy, each of you only needing to provide two pieces of identification, and while you’re there you pick a time slot for your civil service. You’ll be back at the building in two days, next time walking out as a married couple.

“See, it was so easy,” Travis says, bumping your hip with his own on the way back to the truck.

“Fuck off,” you grumble. No matter how hard you try you can’t find it within yourself to be mad at him. You’re incredibly excited, and are actually glad you don’t have to wait very long. It would have been a pain to wait a whole twelve months.

The next order of business in ‘planning’ your wedding is finding two witnesses. You would have had no problem asking Travis’s parents, but they’re currently on a vacation to the east coast. The idea of phoning your mother and asking her to book a flight to attend a wedding she didn’t get a say in makes you nauseous, so it’s completely out of the question. Port Stanley might be small, but you and Travis are only there a few months out of the year and don’t know anyone besides your next door neighbours. Mr. and Mrs. Stevenson are an adorable eldery couple you invite over for dinner every week.

Travis agrees that you should include them, and as soon as you get home the two of you are knocking on their door, pitcher of lemonade in hand.

“Oh hello dears,” Mrs. Stevenson coos. “This is such a nice surprise. Richard is out on the back patio, come join us.”

You smile at the older lady and follow her through the modest cottage. The walls are covered in photos from family trips and graduations – you hope one day you and Travis’s will look the same. Once in the backyard the four of you settle into comfortable conversation, sipping lemonade and enjoying the sunshine. Ever the hockey fan, Mr. Stevenson asks Travis about the upcoming season, and they chat while you rise to help bring snacks to the small table.

After a while, the conversations lull and Travis is able to bring up what you came over for. “Do you guys have any plans for Friday morning?” he asks casually, popping a slice of red pepper into his mouth.

“Not that I can think of,” Mr. Stevenson says. “Can you think of anything Dottie?”

His wife shakes her head. “Nothing comes to mind. What’s the matter?”

Suddenly you’re nervous, and entwine your fingers with Travis’s to ground yourself. He squeezes gently, a gesture of encouragement that has you able to find your voice. “We were wondering if you could do us a favour,” you begin, “And be the witnesses at our wedding? We have an appointment at the courthouse at eleven-thirty.”

It’s silent, and you’re petrified they’re going to say no. You turn to look at Travis, who looks just as apprehensive as you. His grip on your hand tightens and all you can do is wait for a response.

“We would be honoured,” they exclaim at the same time, and you let go of a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in. It’s settled – you have all the components for the paperwork, which means you can legitimately and legally get married. You’re absolutely giddy.

The questions come then – when did Travis ask you, how are you going to tell your families, what does your ring look like – and when you quietly say that you don’t have one Mrs. Stevenson jumps out of her seat.

“Oh child, that simply won’t do!”

You’re quick to your own defence. “It’s truly fine Mrs. Stevenson –”

“You can just call me Dottie dear.”

“Dottie,” you say, her first name rolling uncomfortably off your tongue. It will definitely take some getting used to. “I told Trav I didn’t need a ring. Being married to him is enough.” You smile in his direction and Travis returns the look with ease.

Not caring, the elderly lady heads into the small cottage, saying she has something that would work perfectly. Mr. Stevenson rolls his eyes and apologizes for his wife’s antics, but you insist it’s okay. She returns a minute later with quite possibly the prettiest ring you’ve ever seen. Attached to a thin gold band is a deep green emerald. The stone isn’t obnoxiously large, possibly even on the smaller side, and is completely your style. No other gems accompany it, letting the emerald take center stage.

“Wow,” you breathe. “It’s stunning.”

Travis leans over your shoulder to get a look and lets out a short whistle. “Totally you babe,” he chimes in.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Mr. Steveson shouts in encouragement. “Put it on her young man!”

You let loose a laugh, and soon the others join in. Travis takes it at Dottie’s insistence and places it gingerly on your finger. It’s a perfect fit, and you can’t help but let a few tears escape. Your eyes meet Travis’s and you see he’s trying to hold back tears, but is failing miserably. Overcome with emotion, you lean forward and press your lips to his. The kiss is sweet, but still all-consuming. Travis’s hands reach up to cup your face, continuing the exchange for probably longer than appropriate in public. The Stevensons coo gently in the background, having a conversation between themselves about how adorable you both are. You don’t hear them though, too wrapped up in Travis and the fact that everything feels like it has fallen into place.

After having a small argument about whether or not you can actually accept the ring, at which both Stevensons insist you should keep it, you help set the table for dinner. The meal is quite enjoyable, and you clean up despite the protests from Dottie. Once everything is squared away you and Travis go to make your exit. You hadn’t meant to intrude on their night, but you’re glad you did. On your way out the door, Mr. Stevenson, who followed his wife in demanding you call him by his first name, slips a small bag into Travis’s hand.

“Found these in our jewelry box. I think you might want them,” he winks, smiling softly before shooing you off with a loving tone with a promise to see you on Friday.

Peaking inside the bag once inside the safety of your own home, you pull out two delicate gold bands, one that looks about your size and one that matches Travis’s. It’s clear they’re meant to be your wedding bands, and you’re once again overcome with emotion. What did you do to deserve such kind neighbours?

Your night, and the day that follows are quiet. For the most part you go about your normal routine, puttering around while waiting for Travis to finish his workout and a meeting he has with the Flyers front office. He packs a lunch while you answer a call from your boss, who has a question about when you’ll be returning to Philadelphia. She chats with you for a while, catching up on all your summer adventures. You make sure to conceal your enagement, not wanting all of Philly to fin out before your families. Though you love your boss, she’s not well known for keeping secrets. Once all your affairs are finished, the two of you lock the front door and head to the lake.

“Where you taking me today cowboy?” you giggle as Travis steers the boat out of the marina.

He tips his hat at the nickname and speaks slowly, trying to mimic a southern accent a la John Wayne. “Gotta keep it a surprise darlin’,” he drawls. A laugh punctuates his sentence, and Travis can’t keep the charade up any longer. “I actually don’t have a destination. Thought we could just cruise around.”

It’s a good enough plan for you, and you sit close by while the pair of you travel the coast. The sun glistens off the top of the calm water while you float and your eyes grow heavy for the warmth. You indulge them, allowing them to flutter shut.

“You’re literally the worst company ever,” Travis grumbles as soon as he notices your resting figure.

Not bothering to open your eyes you shoot him the finger. “Fuck off, you’re the one who wants to marry me.”

“Damn straight.”

Despite being ‘terrible company’, Travis doesn’t try too hard to get away from you. Eventually he anchors the boat in a small cove and the pair of you spend a few hours swimming and soaking up the sun’s rays. Just existing like this, with Travis, is enough to calm any nerves you might have about tomorrow. Though it will be a low-key affair and no one will be in attendance, getting married is a huge deal. You would be more alarmed if you didn’t have any anxieties.

It’s dusk when you secure the boat in its slip and hop in the truck to return home. The wind coming off the water sends shivers down your spine, though you do your best to hide it. Travis notices, however, and slips the hoodie he was sporting over shoulders.

“Thanks,” you murmur appreciatively. He doesn’t respond, just shoots you a wide grin.

The many hours spent in the sun have tired you out, and as soon as you’re inside you bolt towards the bed. You don’t even bother to change before slipping under the covers. When Travis appears in the room a few minutes later, he laughs at the sight of you with the duvet pulled up to your chin.

He lies directly on top of you, and you shift slightly to accommodate the added weight. The room is silent save for your breathing, and it’s peaceful. You’re looking forward to spending the rest of your life like this.

“We have to go brush our teeth,” Travis murmurs into the crook of your neck, punctuating his words with sweet kisses.

The noise that leaves your throat is one of strangled protest. “But I’m really comfy,” you groan. “Besides I can’t get up with you on top of me.”

“Touché.” He slowly separates his form from yours and extends a hand to help you up. “You still have to get up. I don’t want to marry someone with bad breath.”

You stick your tongue out at him in response, but grab his hand and allow him to drag you to the bathroom. What unfolds next is straight out of Bring It On. The two of you brush your teeth in silence, occasionally making faces at each other in the mirror. Travis grins at you, mouth full of toothpaste, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Stop laughing!” he shouts after spitting into the sink. Nimble fingers find your sides, and before you can process what’s happening he’s digging them into you.

In an attempt to squirm out of his grasp and run away, you miss the sink rather ungracefully. Toothpaste dots the bathroom counter, but it’s the least of your worries. It will take two seconds to clean up once Travis isn’t hellbent on tickling you to death. You break free of his hold and dart down the hall away from him.

Travis rolls his eyes before grabbing a cloth to wipe away the remains of your desperate getway. When he enters the bedroom again you’re grabbing a faded 67’s tshirt to pull over head. He waits until you’re finished before wrapping his arms around your middle, no intentions of acting childish this time. You lean into his touch and he rests his chin comfortably on your shoulder. The two of you stand there for a while, swaying gently and thinking about the morning. Eventually Travis breaks away, leaving you to finish getting ready for bed, but not before placing a kiss to the nape of your neck.

“I can’t believe we’re going to be married by lunchtime tomorrow,” you sigh as Travis climbs into bed beside you and flicks off the lamp on his bedside table.

“It’s fucking insane, eh?”

Your lips turn into a smile, because it is in fact insane. Two days ago you were content just being with Travis and now in less than fourteen hours you’ll be his wife. Although the change is sudden, it feels right – to no other person would you want to get married. Travis is it.

He shuffles closer to close the gap between you. His hand travels to your hair, twirling it around his finger, and you rest your head on his chest. Your eyes flutter shut but you make no attempt to keep them open. A long night of rest will be useful in helping to quell your nerves in the morning.

“Sweet dreams Trav,” you mumble into the darkness.

You swear you can hear the smile in his voice when he responds, “Night sweetheart.”

When you awake the next morning Travis’s arms are still tightly wrapped around you. You had assumed he’d be up earlier than normal, making sure to get a good run in before returning to get ready. Instead, his head is buried in your hair and he’s snoring softly. A quick glance at your alarm clock tells you it’s time to get up unless you want to run the risk of running late to your own wedding.

“Trav,” you whisper softly, rolling over in his grasp. “We’ve gotta get up.” When you don’t get a response, you lightly trace the outline of his nose and speak a little louder. “Babe, we’re going to be late if we don’t get our asses in gear.”

Travis shoots up at the mention of your wedding, clearly excited. “Good morning soon-to-be Mrs. Konecny,” he says before making a disgusted face. “Forget I ever said that. Totally not our style.”

You can’t help but giggle and agree. Cheesy gestures of affection have never really been your thing, and it feels strange to try it out now. You peck Travis’s cheek quickly before pushing off the covers and heading to the bathroom. After grabbing a towel from the small linen rack in the corner you turn the water on and undress. Travis walks by the open door and whistles, so you laugh and flip him off before letting yourself be enveloped by the water.

The steam helps to relieve the tension in your shoulders you didn’t know was there. You suppose it’s just natural for you to be slightly anxious – even though practically nothing can go wrong a thousand what-ifs float around your mind. Going about your typical shower routine helps calm you down and take your mind off things, and when you step out of the bathroom most of your nerves have been replaced with sheer excitement.

Not wanting to get into the white sundress you decided to wear until you’re practically out the door, you slip into lounge clothes and go to join Travis in the kitchen. He’s munching away on a bowl of cereal but slides a cup of coffee across the counter for you. It’s made just the way you like it, of course, and you offer a quick thanks. When you move around to the other side of the island to make a bagel, you bump your hip against his. It’s quiet in the room, both of you in your heads as you picture what it will be like to say ‘I do’, but it’s nice. You eat in silence, and then it’s Travis’s turn to shower while you clean up the few dishes that were dirtied during breakfast.

After everything is squared away you go to finish getting ready. It’s warm, over twenty-five degrees, so you decide to pull your hair into a simple updo to keep it out of your face. Though no one will be there to judge you, you still want to look the tiniest bit put together. Your makeup consists of sunscreen and lip balm, knowing that Travis wants to spend the afternoon on the water. Besides, it’s so hot you’d be uncomfortable in anything else. With nothing to do but sit and wait for Travis to be ready, you turn your attention to the ring on your left hand, soon to be accompanied by another.

The emerald glistens as you twist the ring from side to side and you make a mental note to once again thank Mrs. Stevenson for giving it to you. Your thoughts are disrupted by Travis asking you a question.

“Are you going to kill me if I wear shorts?”

“As long as they aren’t track shorts you’re fine,” you shrug. “It’s fucking hot out.”

He arches his brow. “So I can wear the camo ones?”

“If you really want to Trav.”

Travis does not, in fact, wear the camo ones, but a respectable khaki pair. He also rolls the sleeves of his button down up to try and combat the heat. It’s a good look, and you make sure to tell him so. The compliments return ten-fold and you can’t help but blush. Even after so many years together Travis still knows how to give you butterflies.

“Zip me up?” you ask, spinning around so your back is to him.

He nods and carefully tugs the zipper along your spine to secure the fabric. Once finished, Tavis rests his hands on your hips and turns you to face him. He rests his forehead against yours and looks at you with the most love filled expression you’ve ever seen.

“I love you,” he whispers.

You smile and press closer to him, mumbling against his lips. “I love you too.”

The kiss you share is soft and warm. Like so many others you’ve shared, it makes you feel whole. Kissing Travis is the one time you feel like you’re right where you’re supposed to be. Time seems to slow down, and truthfully you don’t know how long you spend kissing Travis in the middle of your bedroom. It’s long enough that you have to rush out the door, almost forgetting the rings in the shuffle.

Even though you insisted you had no problem driving the four of you to the courthouse, the Stevensons insist on taking their own vehicle. “We having some shopping to do,” Mr. Stevenson explains, “And you won’t want to hang two old folks just after getting married! It’s the time to be young and in love.”

You can’t convince them to join you in Travis’s truck no matter how hard you try. The two of you eventually let them have their way and wave as you back out of the driveway with them to follow you shortly. The drive is quiet, like so many other moments this morning, and the closer the clock gets to your appointment time, the antsier you get. You just want to get it over with and finally be married to Travis.

“Babe, you’re gonna wear a hole in the floorboard from bouncing your foot so much,” Travis laughs. His hand leaves the steering wheel to rest just above your knee, effectively stopping your movement.

“Just excited,” you say honestly. “And nervous.”

Travis’s thumb rubs comforting circles on your bare skin as he speaks. “Me too. But I know that no matter what everything will be perfect because I love you and you love me and that’s all that matters.”

Before you know it you’re pulling into a parking spot and waiting for your witnesses to arrive. They must have got caught at a red light because they join you a few minutes later. There’s still a bit of time until you’re set to face the judge, but the four of you head inside anyways. Your fingers are laced tightly with Travis’s and you practically cling to him but no one says anything. After alerting reception to your presence you pace the hallway outside the courtroom.

Nothing about this is traditional, but Dottie still ushers you away from your husband-to-be in order to give you a little pep talk. As you’re being ushered around the corner you see Mr. Stevenson doing something similar with Travis.

“Don’t worry about him dear, Richard will make sure he doesn’t flee. Though I know he’d never think about it,” she says. “He’s good for you, and you’re good for him.”

You smile at her statement. The two of you really are meant for each other. Dottie talks a bit more, hyping you up and giving you some advice for married life. You rejoin the boys just before the group is called.

“The Konecnys? Judge Holloway is ready for you.”

Butterflies flutter in your stomach upon hearing the name that will be yours in a matter of minutes. You all follow the official into the chamber and wait for further instruction.

“I do believe congratulations are in order,” the judge says. Applause comes from the Stevensons, and you press your face into Travis’s shoulder, embarrassed. “I’m Judge Holloway, and I’ll be performing the ceremony today. Before we get started, are there any objections?”

Both you and Travis shake your head. “No,” you enunciate in unison.

“Perfect. I just need the marriage license and then we’ll be good to go.”

Travis hands the official document over, and the judge does some preliminary signing to make the aftermath a bit easier. While you wait you can’t stop smiling at Travis – not that you’d rather be doing anything else. Since this is a justice of the peace ceremony no religious elements are included, which you’re thankful for. Neither you nor Travis had time to write your own vows but had agreed to share them privately at a later date. Everything happening in the present was strictly legal and made the process quite speedy.

“Alright, now that the technicalities are out of the way we can get to the fun stuff.”

The comment makes you laugh. Though hearing the legalities of marriage was slightly mind-numbing, you’d call everything that’s happened so far fun. Perhaps that’s only because you’re the one getting married.

“Y/N,” the judge says. “Do you accept Travis as your lawfully wedded spouse?”

“I do.” You’ve never been more sure of anything in your life.

Then it’s Travis’s turn, and he’s spitting the words out before the officiant can finish the sentence. “I do.”

Laughter bounces off the walls at his eagerness. You shake your head and remember to tease him about it later. He just shoots you a wink.

Judge Holloway looks into your small crowd. “I imagine one of you has the rings?”

Travis fishes around in his pocket and pulls out the drawstring back they’re being held in. The judge nods in approval. “Place the ring on the third finger of your partner’s left hand and repeat after me. This ring signifies my devotion to you, and shall serve as a reminder that I will cherish you forever.”

Both of you repeat the words, and both tear up when placing the rings. They flow freely down your cheeks, and Travis wipes them away with his thumb.

“I think I know what comes next,” he whispers to you.

Taking the opportunity to tease him a little bit, you nudge his shoulder. “Oh yeah? Think you’ve had enough practice?”

“Guess we’ll just have to find out.”

You turn your attention back to the judge, who speaks once again. “By the power vested in me by the Marriage Act, I do hereby pronounce Travis and Y/N to be married.”

Once again, applause rings out, and you can’t help but giggle against Travis’s lips as he pulls you in for a kiss to ‘seal the deal’. It’s earth-shattering, your first kiss as husband and wife, and you can’t help but deepen it by wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him even closer. When you break apart neither of you can stop smiling.

Your party signs along the dotted line of the marriage certificate and you accept the well wishes of the judge before exiting the room. In the hallway the Stevensons envelope you both in a giant hug. “Thank you both for being here,” you say, voice watery. You haven’t stopped crying since you got to sign your last name as Konecny for the first time.

“We’re incredibly honoured you chose us,” Dottie exclaims, grasping your hands to let you know just how much it meant to her. Her husband nods in agreeance, and you say your goodbyes, promising to have them over for dinner in a few days. You watch their figures retreat out the courthouse doors, and then you’re alone with Travis.

He looks ethereal – the post wedding glow is something you know won’t go away any time soon. Though the whole thing was quite unconventional you wouldn’t change it for the world. Something about it is so distinctly you and Travis: the spontaneity of it all, how it happened on your own accord. You know you’ll receive an earful when you call your families to let them know of the change, but you don’t care. At no time will you ever be as happy as you are now.

Your fingers find his for possibly the hundredth time today but neither of you complain, so in love with each other you’re sure if any of his teammates were here Travis would be getting chirped into oblivion.

“What do you say Konecny? Want to get out of here?” he asks, punctuating the end of his statement with a kiss to the tip of your nose.

You’ve never heard him have a better suggestion. “Lead the way lover boy.”

❥❥❥

taglist: @jamiedrysdales @kiedhara @tortito @brokeninsidebutnobodyknows if you want to be added shoot me an ask :)

#travis konecny imagine #travis konecny x reader #travis konecny fic #philadelphia flyers imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #cwrites

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phati-sari · 3 years

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Hi PS, Gul khan mentioned in one of her interviews that the show is from Arnav's pov and I have read in your site (sorry I forgot exactly where) that you indicated it's Arnav's pov. Can you please share your thoughts on how you understood it's his pov? I.e what factors contribute in knowing whose pov? Thank you for taking the time to answer this.

Hello :)

Gul Khan gave an interview in 2017 where she mentioned that IPKKND is from Arnav’s POV, but I was saying it years earlier. Point of view can be difficult to discern in visual media -- it’s not like a book where it’s easier to tell who is narrating the story. This question was answered earlier this year, but I’ll expand on a few points :)

1. The first episode shows Arnav overcoming a life-long goal, so his meeting with Khushi feels like the next chapter in his story.

Everything from the way he was introduced (“But where is your Rajkumar?”) to the way he closed his eyes as the fashion show started spoke of Arnav being at the centre of the story. In reclaiming Sheesh Mahal and deciding to tear it down for a factory, he was righting a childhood wrong. It was the justice he’d worked relentlessly towards since he was 14. In closing the metaphorical door in that chapter of his life (closing his eyes as the fashion show started) and then opening another (opening his eyes to see Khushi), it felt like the next chapter of his life was beginning.

In contrast, while meeting Arnav was a life-altering event for Khushi, it didn’t have the same significance for her (or at least, the serial didn’t frame it that way).

2. Arnav is narrating the story, not Khushi.

This was much clearer in Ek Jashn when he spoke directly to the audience, but he was always the narrator in IPKKND. I think the confusion comes from the fact that Khushi often talks to herself and has monologues ‘confiding’ in Devi Maiyya. But Khushi isn’t narrating -- narration is typically internal not external.

While Arnav is given some moments of voice-over to convey his innermost thoughts and a few scenes where he verbalises his feelings to others, his inner conflicts are usually conveyed through flashbacks. And the audience largely dismisses these.

I think this is a disservice to Arnav’s character. Khushi’s ‘earnest’ monologues end up validating her feelings and perspective to the audience, while Arnav isn’t given the same chance. It means that while IPKKND might be told from Arnav’s point of view, it is heavily biased towards Khushi because the intended audience is largely female.

3. Arnav doesn’t lie to the viewer. Khushi does.

I often call Khushi an unreliable narrator -- even though I don’t think she narrated IPKKND -- because it’s the quickest way to convey that the audience shouldn’t take her words at face-value.

Khushi lies to herself, meaning that she lies to the audience through her ‘confessions’ to Devi Maiyya. The most obvious example is her claiming confusion over her feelings for Arnav after Diwali -- she knew she loved him and she was hoping her suddenly inexplicable feelings would magically disappear when he got engaged. I understand the reaction -- being in love with a man who was about to marry someone else must’ve been terrifying -- but if the story was truly from her perspective, she wouldn’t have lied when she only had the audience and her Goddess best friend as witnesses.

In contrast, Arnav doesn’t really lie to the audience when he’s alone. He admits confusion over Khushi, admits that he cares too much about her very early on, and is generally more truthful about his conflicts than Khushi is.

4. The trauma was Arnav’s

IPKKND isn’t the story of a woman who met and fell in love with a Very Rich Alpha Male before he forced her to elope. It’s the story of a man who met a Manic Pixie Dream Girl and had the entire course of his life changed forever. And before that, when it was Didi ki Saut, it was the story of a man who fell in love with his sister’s rival.

As I said here --

A story told from Khushi’s point of view would focus more on her family, her place in the world, and the arc would be about her overcoming some terrible childhood trauma to find love. And Arnav would’ve been the manic pixie dream boat.

Thanks for asking, I hope that helps!

#ipkknd #iss pyaar ko kya naam doon #arshi #arnav singh raizada #khushi kumari gupta #anon ask #answered #analysis #greatest hits

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miss-choco-chips · 4 years

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hey so I had a quick question about twisted soulmates! so tim knows who his soulmates are, jason knows tim is his soulmate, damian thinks tim is his nemesis, but does dick know? do they all know about each other? love the story!!!

(2/2) I also love how you call ra’s a cheap kazoo at the end it really fits him

---

Hey sweetie! I’m glad you liked it. Twisted Soulmates has a very special place in my heart, it’s the first long-ish fic I wrote for the fandom and it’s received so much love, it amazes me. And yesss Ra’s totally is. I read that in a post I saw in Pinterest about someone saying that to “play someone like a fiddle” isn’t a fitting insult cause fiddles are hard to play and should instead say a kazoo, and I thought Tim would think so too.

So to clear the soulmate mess a bit.

….This got really really long so I’m gonna put it under the cut. Also, beware of spoilers of the possible second part!

Dick knows Tim is his soulmate, but it doesn’t get directly addressed in the fic by anyone else than Tim, and that was on purpose. Dick didn’t get his mark at the same time Tim did. Or rather he did, but he was in costume and didn’t see his own wrist, and then his parents died and the trauma kinda fucked things up and the name got erased. Like, he repressed the whole thing so hard he forcefully forgot about Tim and removed him from his own body. That is, until Tim went to ask him to be Robin again, and when Dick touched him he was bitchslapped by the feeling of the name appearing on him.

But the thing is, Dick is a young man, emphasis on the ‘man’. And this weird little kid is, soulmate or not, a *kid*. Dick is uncomfortable as fuck in this situation. He gets fond of Tim with time, they become friends and he mentors him to make sure what happened to Jason won’t happen to him, but he’s very carefully keeping him at arm’s length in anything soulmate related, because he won’t ever see a twelve year old as some romantic partner just because some cosmic force says he’s destined to be that. Maybe in the future, maybe not, but certainly not when there is this age difference that creeps him the hell out. He has his relationships with other people, which Tim respects because he doesn’t think he has any say on the matter, and they honestly love and care for each other (Tim is crushing hard but he’s a teen and Dick is his hero, that would be expected even without the soulmate thing), and everyone kinda turns a blind eye to the whole thing (except from some of the Young Justice gang, but that’s another thing entirely). Sure, Dick’s girlfriends (or at least the ones that are in the know) look a lil uncomfortable when Dick takes them home and they meet this tiny, starry eyed kid who does his best to be polite, but except for that it might as well be a taboo. The most Dick does is when any danger comes near Tim and he outright freaks out, like when he got Ra’s mark and he flew all the way from San Fran just to fret, but, again, the do love each other, so that might or might not be because of their bond.

Jason as explained gets the mark when he’s attacking Tim at Titan’s Tower. He already had the Joker on his other wrist, so there was no place for doubt. That’s why he left Tim alive, instead of finishing the job like he intended to. The second attempt on Tim’s life was made under Pit influence, because Tim rejected his offer to be his Robin, which Jason’s highly damaged mind translated to rejection to him as a soulmate, which in turn made him really mad, and… yeah. He *does* want to get to know Tim properly and apologize, he felt awful about it all once his mind got cleared up, but like… regret doesn’t just erase all the pain he brought his soulmate, a fact he’s perfectly aware of. So when shit hits the fan with Tim and Dick, Jason is away on a self-discovery trip with the outlaws where he works through his issues, hoping to get himself to a place from where he could start a new relationship with Tim (only if Tim is cool with giving him another shot; he’s hopeful but not going to press, the decision will be firmly in Tim’s hands). He doesn’t know about Dick and Damian, but he does know about Ra’s because he once heard Talia ranting about his father being too ‘soft to his nemesis’, which got him curious enough to investigate. It makes him feel even worse, because the poor kid’s nemesis AND soulmate actively tried to hurt him, which… is really fucked up. So Jason is a hot mess right now, but he’s on the path of redemption.

Damian’s thing was another mess altogether. Damian hasn’t met his nemesis yet (I’m still not 100% sure who is gonna be for him), so when he gets to Wayne Manor and gets his mark as he’s hitting Tim… well, the kid’s been groomed to think of his Father’s other kids as enemies already, its not too much of a leap to consider Tim, his direct predecessor and the one he has to live up to, as his ultimate foe. He also knows about his Grandfather having Drake’s name, so his proud little head gets a high at the idea of having the same nemesis as Ra’s, like some kind of validation to him, like he could someday be equal to Ra’s if he has his same nemesis. Tim tries to correct him, but he’s also busy dealing with the fact that a ten year old is another one of his soulmates, and a murderous one at that, so he’s probably not explaining himself as well as he could, and Damian walks out of that encounter totally sure that Tim is his nemesis (he didn’t see Tim’s wrist, so as far as he’s aware, he’s on the same wrist as Ra’s and thus Drake’s nemesis). He doesn’t know about Jason, but he learns about Dick later on, after he becomes his Robin. They are bonding one night and Dick tells him about his soulmate and nemesis (he’s probably trying to explain something about morals and whatnot to him using that as an example), and Damian can’t even suspect of Dick having it wrong, because the one he claims as his nemesis is one of his worst foes, and no matter how bad, Tim couldn’t be worse than him, so, by elimination, Tim IS Dick’s soulmate. This freaks him out, badly, and he does his best to avoid telling Dick about his mark, because he is still sure about Tim being his nemesis, and that means he is destined to hate the one dick is fated to love; Dick would never choose him above Tim if he was aware of this. He’d never love Damian more than Tim, and that makes the child in him even MORE mad at Drake because jealousy.

So by the time Tim says ‘fuck it’ and basically elopes with Ra’s, Dick is unaware of Jason and Damian; Jason is also unaware of the other two; and Damian only has half the information.

They will find out about the others though (and in Damian’s case, about Tim being his soulmate instead of nemesis), when they find out about Tim’s disappearance (he’s with Ra’s but he’s not exactly advertising it so not a lot of people know where the fuck he is) and join forces to look for him. But that will happen in the second part, if I gather enough brain cells to write it lol

Also, a bit about Tim, if you’re interested!

Tim knows they are they soulmates- even when things get twisted when Ra’s, who is his nemesis, treats him better than the people supposedly destined to love him. Its very confusing, and while a part of him is sure of it, the other is like… maybe Ra’s is his destined one, after all. In the end, Tim decides it doesn’t really matter. Ra’s can be his nemesis, soulmate, whatever- he’s taking him down, hence the last scene where he smiles at having deceived him. And Dick, Jason and Damian might or might not be his soulmates- he doesn’t give a fuck either, he’s not gonna forgive them just because Fate winks at him and pushes him towards them. Oh no, hell no. He’s basically giving up on love, soulmates and all that jazz. He’s gonna use his unique position to do his best to take Ra’s down, even if that means he goes down with him, because he’s a very depressed boy who only feels something when in immediate danger, and sadly the most danger he can be in is inside the lion’s mouth- travelling around the world with Ra’s.

This got really long, anon, sorry! Hope you’re having an amazing day!

#twisted soulmate #soulmate au #Nemesis au #tim drake #dick grayson #Jason Todd #Damian Wayne #Ra's al Ghul #My writing #answering anon

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spaceorphan18 · 3 years

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am i the only one who didn't hate the double wedding? i hated how it was done, the episode was kind of a mess, but i don't really agree with the people who say klaine should've had this huge fairytale-esque thing that kurt got to plan. i liked the rushed wedding because it felt solid in this new place klaine had gotten to. this time would be different and this time would be forever for them. so much of their story was about deconstructing a fairy tale, and i feel like this wedding ties fairly well into that. it wasn't about bells and whistles and going all out - it felt honest and real (not the part about sue and brittany involving themselves, but like, the idea of a rushed thing) in a way i don't think the traditional fairytale wedding would have. i wish it had been a little more spaced out and some other things of s6 cut, but for what it was, i don't hate it.

Sure absolutely! I think I’ve seen varying thoughts on the wedding -- all the way from people who adore it to people who loathe it. And I think all of it’s valid!

I’m, personally, in the middle. There are some things I liked, and somethings I don’t like. I don’t mind Klaine getting married on a whim -- though I wish Kurt would have had a better catalyst for taking that moment to run to Blaine. It’s terribly written.

I also wish the episode had been less focus on the theme of gay marriage = good and more on the character moments. And that said, I think the episode works better as a Brittana episode than Klaine, though I think even they got short changed some.

I don’t like the reception -- it’s just a collection of songs that don’t really do much, and we got zero character development in the second half the show. The entire episode was too stuffed, and could have benefited from another hour to give some smaller moments -- such as something for Klaine to reflect on getting married. I did like the last scene with Sue, though.

Personally, if I had been writing the story -- I would have done one of two things -- a) had them elope as Brittana was getting married or b) waited until the series finale to show them getting (or just being) married. But Glee wanted to have its cake and eat it, too.

*shrugs*

#thanks nonny! :)#that's how s.o. sees it #Anonymous

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this-is-a-love-story-isnt-it · 3 years

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I finished season 6 of Gilmore Girls. Mostly skipped over any Rory scene that Lorelai or Paris or Lane wasn’t also in. Most of the episodes after like 12 or so I have no recollection of, but I SURE remember that last shot of the last episode.

Ok, I have shipped Luke and Lorelai forever, but he really treated her like crap ever since he found out about April. He kept Lorelai completely separate. He compartmentalized his life with Lorelai and his life getting to know his daughter. And Lorelai was so supportive. She wanted him to get to know his daughter, but she also wanted to be included. They were engaged ffs. This was the first relationship we’d seen her in where she actually put the time and effort to keep the relationship going, and Luke was just like half there after he found out about April.

Lorelai’s blow-up and ultimatum were overdue, tbh. I know she went AWOL on him for a few days after she talked to Anna, which wasn’t fair, either, but anyway, I actually really love that scene between Lorelai and Luke in the street now. I think 15 years ago I didn’t really get it- like why that was necessary. Ideally it would have been a serious sit-down conversation, rather than yelling at him in the middle of the street, but it made sense after she had that impromptu session with that psychiatrist that her parents tried to set Christopher up with. (Also interesting way to find out that Luke is the first guy she ever really loved like this and that she never loved Max).

When she tries to get Luke to elope with her right on the spot and he hesitates and says they can’t just take off and get married (I mean, valid tho), she’s yelling at him in the middle of the street at this point and says, “don’t you love me?!” And he says, “yes, you know that I do!” And then she like desperately yells at him, “I love you Luke, I love you!” And that’s like one of the biggest kicks in the feels of the entire series for me, tbh.

I think her giving him an ultimatum was definitely valid, though, as was her leaving after he couldn’t give an answer besides “i hate ultimatums.”

I really hate that she went straight to Christopher and slept with him, though. Still one of the worst moments of the show.

But rn i’m kind of pissed at Luke, but I also wish that Lorelai hadn’t gone straight to Chris after what I assume she considered breaking up with Luke.

Ok, so I’m about to start season 7 and I we’ll see if I remember any of it, bc idek if I ever watched it.

Oh also I forgot to mention what a garbagey thing for Rory to do to try to sleep with Jess in order to get back at Logan for cheating on her!?? Omg like, gtfo

#gilmore girls #gilmore girls season 6 #luke x lorelai #krista rewatches gilmore girls

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blankdblank · 4 years

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Hobbit Soulmate Pt 22

- bringing it into 2002, does mention 9/11, i’m not an expert on how it effected things globally but i tried to keep it believable while covering the actions to cover security with Mate abilities as well. Mainly tried to keep it drama free around that bit. -

London however, once Richard was fully patched up, again was lit up on a night of celebration. This time for a film you were not a part of, among the spare seats you were granted a pair in the audience of the Billy Elliot premier that suited up Richard beamed next to you in your simple white diamond accented dress with a low cut off the shoulder top beamed with his arm around you for the single picture before you crept inside passing the main cast flashing waves your way recognizing you and the other dancers heading for your seats near the back.

Exhaling sharply you murmured, “My first premier.”

Chuckling lowly Richard whispered back, “Just wait until you are the face of your own premier.”

“I would rather enjoy yours, Richy Rich.” Making him smirk and lean in claiming a quick peck before a speech was given by the director and the lights died to begin the film.

Fully ignoring your morning call to have a ‘private dinner meeting’ with one of the heads of the London Ballet Company, fully meaning you would be given a chance to lead their new ballet, if you put out. You refused to give in to their pathetic demands and didn’t even bother to acknowledge their try at threatening you would never dance again if you didn’t. Honestly you didn’t care if that was what they were demanding for it no matter the name behind the threat.

You did however accept the call from the Bolshoi Ballet Company who had a show traveling the States August to September who you would be rehearsing with in New York next week, remaining with them until you would fly back to New Zealand meeting up with your father for more filming there.

Lee again buzzed in and out eagerly stealing the week you were in California to show you around and keep your free time to show off the little nest he had there with a cousin between auditions for roles and semesters at Julliard. All the while showing more of his friends greeting you as his girlfriend, the title he couldn’t seem to shake for you, even with another woman who he had been dating for a short few weeks that calmed in hearing your side of the relationship that was no threat to her and her chances with him.

…

October to June flooded with more trips between the London studios and Oxford while you slaved away to flush out your credits entirely. Much to your surprise as well as others you found yourself in a cap and gown accepting your diploma at Oxford. The Armitage brood and your father sat filming and taking pictures through, before and after the ceremony to the after party your friends had all come together to throw for one another. Promising to never lose touch before heading home after having said goodbye to the fabled campus you had partly wished to never have to leave behind in your lifetime.

Macbeth, Casualty and Doctors all premiered for Richard, all he hoped to brush past only to laugh loudly at your mini surprise parties you threw for him with mini confetti poppers and home baked cakes topped with cute messages ending with his curling around you in bed sad to see you go again. There was a question he could ask to put an end to the hassle of travel papers and visas, you could easily get engaged and elope for citizenship, you had an established relationship and reason to be in the country enough to validate need for dual citizenship. Yet he didn’t feel right asking just yet when it still felt he was stuck on his in between phase himself, the pair of you were just starting, fleshing yourselves out to the producers and film world to have solid footing to try for roots just yet. So he was left to the fact that he would have to travel now, between roles he would grant you time to remain fixed in place while he was able to be with you all he wished. That was the deal.

And again you were heading down your stoop in New York slightly fuzzy on your traveling home from the airport after Richard’s tight hug goodbye. Wide eyed however you paused seeing Lee pull up in front of you, stepping out of his parent’s van. “Hey,” His smile splitting across his face as he looked you over, again physically readying for another season of dance.

“Hey, thought you were heading home for summer again.”

“I am home.”

He said as William climbed out saying, “I am not carrying all this up there by myself!”

“You, you’re moving in?”

Lee nodded, “Floor under you, just as marvelous as your first place,” making you giggle as he chuckled, “I have enough tucked away to stay, plus still have the job at the store, so you can drop by between shows. You’re home, I’m home.”

“Bet Becky’s thrilled about that.”

“Becky met Brad, and Hector, and someone named Sparkler, kid you not. One year left in school, I want to spend my summer near you. Have to head for Mom’s shop opening in September, but till then you and me, back to stirring up some crime.”

William cleared his throat loudly and you turned Lee guiding him to the car where you hugged the pair and said, “For now, I have to head to a meeting with NY Ballet Company. Apparently ‘they have heard good things’. Catch you later.”

William called out, “Catch you later bouncy ball.” Making you giggle and wave to the pair in a trot to catch your train to the prestigious Ballet Company where your grandparent’s lawyer would be waiting to aid you in another hopefully more successful contract ensuring you wouldn’t be cast aside again.

Summer seemed to be like right out of a dream. Back to best friends with Lee, who was hard at work studying up on references and anything that could help with any possible job. Including random hobbies and sign up courses he could pull from later for any role branching from pottery to an odd day he signed up for a birthing class by mistake and had to fake a call saying his mother was already in early labor not needing him to fill in for his dad that had you near to tears when he shared what he’d signed up for from laughing so hard. This was nothing like before, sure there were lingering stares and stolen glances at lips and tries to get a bit too close, but all on his end. You were secure in what and who you had waiting to snuggle with you again across the pond, and in a joyful announcement he had booked a ticket to New Zealand to beat you there to be with you through the final mini bout of filming before the premier in December.

Your flight was booked and every day it drew closer, circled in red on more than one calendar, September 11th.

“You’re certain the flight confirmation said today?” Again the question was asked as huddled up in the office of the studio Peter paced between the silent cast already there that had heard the news. Everyone almost was here, except for two people, you and one of their make up artists loaned to a film in the States for the past few months, both leaving New York that was covered in smoke, locked down and flooded with panic. Phillipa again looked to the travel papers after having sat down feeling she might pass out from nerves while Fran kept the kids busy in the other room so they wouldn’t be worried by what was going on across the world. Again silently your father watched as Richard wrote another note on his exposed arm calmed only that your mark was still intact and your heartbeat, while jumpy at best confirmed you were still there somewhere.

It had been hours past when you were meant to land and everything circling New York was scrutinized to the final detail. The cast had even gone to the limits of printing out maps of where the Towers were compared to your address only worrying the more at how even if you had missed your plane you would be trapped in the ash and dust scared and alone. Phones were busy without any chance of answer with emails sporadic and overtaxed with servers crashing left and right leaving little answer for anyone. Out of nowhere the phone rang and Phillipa picked up, “Would this be the number for Weta workshop studio where Peter Jackson works?”

The voice came through soundly in an Australian accent and Phillipa picked up a squishy stress ball shaped like an elephant painted to be a Mumakil from the desk she threw at Peter’s back halting him in his tracks turning everyone’s head. “Yes it is, who may I ask is calling?”

“Ma’am this is the Border Security office in Australia, we have a,” papers were consulted and he read off, “Rebeka Stout and a Jaqiearae Pearisiyiae here I am needing to confirm the employment documents they have, is Mr Jackson there for me to speak with?”

“Yes, one moment,” wobbling to her feet she passed Peter the phone saying with her hand over the receiver, “Becky and Jaqi are in Australia. They need to confirm their travel documents.”

Relieved exhales filled the room and Peter took the phone, “Hello, this is Peter Jackson,” he managed to somewhat calmly state.

“Hello sir, I am calling to confirm the employment papers of the Missus Rebeka Stout and a Jaqiearae Pearisiyiae,”

“Yes, I have their documents here, what do you need to know?” A few questions for each were given and answered confirming for those listening in still while other crew members had raced out to share the news with those still lingering in the halls and other areas of the studio uncertain of everyone’s safety just yet while the lists had been whittled down.

Finally he heard, “Those are all the questions I have on my end, we thank you for your cooperation in this we have had to handle quite a few delays and any flight from New York has had to face extra scrutiny you understand.”

Peter nodded, “Of course, or course, if I may, since those flights are still grounded so they will be staying in Australia?”

“Yes sir, we do have a supply of boats able to handle transport between our islands for the time being but with the sheer numbers of those grounded it will be some time before their spots could be guaranteed.”

Peter, “No of course I understand.”

“And now that they have been cleared they will be able to have phone privileges restored to them, would you like to speak to them, Miss Pearisiyiae is in the room, it will have to be brief mind you, we have others to interview.”

“Yes please, and thank you, so very much.” As he waited he found a pad and pen to write out a note he gave to Phillipa she nodded and left the room to follow through on right away.

“Hello?” Your voice cracked out hinting that you’d been close to crying making Peter close his eyes a moment.

“Jaqi, I want you to listen very carefully to me, your dad’s here, Richard is here, we all are. Now I know Becky is there, have you seen her?”

“Yes, I think she’s in the hall still.”

“Good, you stick with her, Phillipa is calling David Wenham, he’s still out in Australia and he’s going to come and get you and give you a place to crash while you’re out there. Do not worry about the wait we’ll get you out here as soon as we can okay Dear?”

“Okay, I will, thank you.” In a glance up at the man across from you stealing a glance at the list of names he still had to go through you said, “I should probably go, I guess we’ll call from David’s.”

“He’s on his way, sit tight, we love you, it shouldn’t be too long.”

“Bye bye,” you all but whispered out hearing him repeat the same as you handed the phone back to the man who had expected in your nerves to crack and take way longer. All the same he hung up and again your palms folded around your sleeves uncertain if you should lift your sleeve showing your messages from Richard as others who had been seen to read theirs or speak through them had been detained separately in private holding cells to check thoroughly. “Thank you.”

Again his eyes met yours seeing the tears lingering in your pink eyes you refused to let fall disturbing their process by holding it up. You had been fingerprinted with your background scrutinized as everything in your bag and phone was investigated thoroughly from altogether frightened diligent people just doing their jobs glad you were so understanding compared to dozens of other on your flight. “And thank you, for being so accommodating. This is, well, I don’t think we’ve faced anything like this before.”

“I know,” you said with a nod promptly furrowing your brows as you wiped away a tear that fell down your cheek, “It happened in New York, and we flew from there. You have to keep your home safe. Took oaths to, I bet.” Your voice cracked off and he nodded as you wiped your cheek again forcing a grin at him trying to fake that you weren’t terrified.

“Were you passing through New York, or do you live there?”

“Live,” you cleared your throat, “I live there. I just finished a season at the NY Ballet Company through the summer. Went to Julliard there. Worked on Broadway too.”

You nodded again and he glanced down gathering your papers, one he stamped and folded into your passport before pulling your bagged phone from the drawer in his desk, all of which he stood to pass to you, that you flinched up to accept, “Ballet is very hard. I know anyone who could work in a company for it must be tough. Just take a few deep breaths, no doubt you’ll be back to work in no time with Mr Jackson.”

You nodded again walking with him to the door he opened for you, “Thank you.”

Already at your seat on the bench by the wall your bags were waiting and Becky, another under five foot member of the filming family, having been asked to wait aside seeing that you were headed the same place accepted her papers and bagged phone from another officer as well then looked to you. Until you both looked at your officer who said, “You’ve both been cleared, you can head out to the main exit gates and wait for your transport from there. Every taxi fleet has been called available but there may still be a line.”

You nodded both thanking the officers, who looked over your tiny selves shouldering and gathering your things to head out of the office another group to be interviewed were led inside and lined up to wait on the benches you had cleared part of. With her arm looping through yours you shared softly, “They called Peter, he’s calling David Wenham, he’s out here, said they’d get him to fetch us and put us up.”

Becky nodded, “Faramir?” You nodded and she stammered out, “We can trust Faramir.” Making you smirk and inch closer to her side feeling she was shaking too. Faces blurred and taller bodies with mingled children crying for reasons they couldn’t explain the shift in the air of this place were carried all towards the exit gates. Every seating lobby was open for those waiting with even more seated along the floor or wherever available until more room would clear at the next set of cabs and cars arriving for guests. Across from the designated section for cars you settled on the ground with the bustling crowd for the taxis growing in the hall behind you and off to the right side of the building allotted to ease passenger flow.

Quietly after putting your papers away you held your again un-bagged on phones waiting for word softly chatting on and off in broken clumps of conversation when your nerves would spike again, both still waiting to answer your itching messages growing on your arms under your sleeves from worried Mates. In the crowd however you caught a familiar face passing from a flight back from England, in the sea of people huffing eyeing the growing crowd for taxi’s Hugh Jackman came into view. A clear head over the rest around him he stood, a stranger to you in all but his public self in a couple roles you’d seen him in by chance. With pictures you had been holding from the films in hand you stood murmuring, “I’ll be right back,”

Uncertain of why you walked right up to him unable to do much but try to solve something to make today end okay in your eyes. Right up to him you walked and taped his arm holding his bag, instantly his eyes dropped and he let out a breath, “Listen, today-,”

“You know David Wenham?” It wasn’t much of a question but a fact, David had bragged when a crew member had mentioned a crush on him that they didn’t live far apart and had dinner together quite often when both in Australia at the same time between jobs.

“Yes?”

“Um,” his eyes dropped to the pictures in your hands making his head tilt at the images of monsters and people in odd costumes before showing him one of David, you and Sean on set with you in a servant’s costume between them. Catching his eyes again after he looked at the image curious why you were showing him that, “We work with him, me and Becky, we got diverted here and he’s coming to get us. He said once you don’t live far, we don’t take up much room, and unless he drives a bike with a side car I’m sure he could grab you too.”

The offer in your cracking tone had him nodding and flashing you a comforting smile, “Thank you, very kind of you.” Turning to join you and Becky, who he smiled at as he set down his bag and lowered crossing his legs to sit beside you on the ground after you’d sat again. “Hi Becky,” Offering a hand around you that she shook with a soft hello and released revealing her own trembling hand. “Where did you get diverted from? I came from London.”

Becky answered, “I was working in Philadelphia, we’re supposed to be in New Zealand. My parents line is down,”

“I’m sure Peter and them have called them to let them know.”

Becky nodded again and Hugh looked you over asking, “You?”

Catching his eye you said, “I was in New York.” Parting his lips and you nodded, “But Peter said my Dad and Mate are there and are waiting while they work out the boat situation to get us to work.”

“I’ve seen you,” he said looking you over again after a few minutes of silence.

Glancing at him you said, “I won a Tony, went with Ian McKellen.” That had him smirking, “Do you need proof?” Without answering you had opened your duffel and had his shoulders shaking as you plopped your statue on his palm in him lap.

“You,” he chuckled again asking, “You just carry it around with you?”

“No, the guys wanted to see it. So I packed it. Should have seen the faces on the guy searching my bag, asked to use my Polaroid to take a picture with a real Tony.”

He chuckled again as Becky giggled behind her hand remembering the look on is face when he looked you over across the counter in your tiny wrinkled glorious self. “Oh I bet it was amusing,” he said passing it back and saying, “I saw that performance, bravo,”

“Thank you.” You said putting it away again. The conversation shifted to films you had recently seen that broke with, “Heard you and David are in a film together about Dracula.”

Again he smirked saying, “Won’t be out for a while though. Something about issues with the computer side of things. Not to mention some reshoots.”

“I can’t wait, I hear you have an awesome hat.” Making him chuckle again. “Love hats.”

“That I do.”

Becky pointed at you, “She has a helmet in ours.” And you nodded, “Battle helmet, and a pair of axes, one double sided.”

His brow inched up and you said, “I play a 139 year old ginger warrior.”

“You what?” He asked only to watch you follow Becky’s point to the glass walls looking out the gate seeing David appearing from the crowds looking around. Hugh followed your lead and you all gathered your bags walking to the worried man who wrapped you both in a tight hug when you finally reached him.

“There you are!” Pressing quick pecks on your foreheads. “Let’s get you home and fed.”

He looked to Hugh who smirked saying, “They found me in the crowd.”

“Can we keep him?” David smirked with Hugh, “Can we, can we? Bet he knows loads of tricks.”

Hugh joked, “Already housebroken.”

David chuckled nodding his head, “Come on, before I get towed,” Easing his hands across you and Becky’s backs guiding you to his car still waiting on the curb through the crowds that were blocking his view.

The trunk was loaded up and as you pocketed a pen you joined Becky to take the back while Hugh sat up front folding the seat back to climb inside the two door car. Buckled up and pulled off the curb you pulled out your pen and inched down your sleeves when you were out of sight both trying not to cry seeing notes from your Mates trying to calm you and share how much they loved you and would see you soon. Uncapping your pen you wrote in a bare stretch on your wrist, ’David’s taking us to his place, just picked us up. Sorry, we couldn’t write back to you sooner.’

Passing the pen to Becky she gave you a weak grin and promptly wrote back to calm her worried one as you reread the notes from Richard to calm yourself.

On his feet Richard poked his head into Peter’s office saying, “Jaqi just wrote me, David’s driving them home now.” Again relief washed over the group now reserved to trying to call out for the dinner that had been mentioned earlier once everyone had been accounted for completely. Stepping out to the lot outside where your father had gone to pace Richard cleared his throat warning that Joe was not alone to keep from startling him only to have his wide pinkened purple eyes land on him. “Jaqi wrote me, said David’s taking them home,” the statement deflating the tense giant of a man wracked with concern now resting his hands on his head to stretch his tense arms. “Said she’s sorry she couldn’t write sooner.”

Joe said, “No, I don’t doubt they had them ban writing as well as calls until they were cleared and searched.” That had Richard’s brow inching up, “When our rig got hit they did the same with us guys before we got cleared to fly home. No word out or in until they have answers. Just hope it won’t take long to ship them out here.”

Richard shook his head, “No telling Peter wouldn’t borrow a yacht to go and fetch them himself if he could.”

Joe chuckled, “It’s a short skip from there to here compared from there. Probably just be a few days until they start letting flights go again. The diverted no doubt will be first to lighten the load.”

Slowly but surely phone lines seemed to free up and in your two day wait you racked up your phone time calming Lee and your family in Texas between calls to Richard and your father in New Zealand. It seemed to calm things as after a tight scramble to follow the new protocol for displaced passengers a private jet was allowed to land on a smaller airstrip to take you the rest of the six hour flight with David and the few other crew members also living in Australia.

Tightly you were scooped up into your father’s arms while Becky’s family also waiting with the groups come to greet you all clung to her. In a string of flights of smaller craft allowed to land here you grouped up and headed off in the vans waiting to take you to your grandparent’s land out here to meet the others waiting here with a full meal to welcome you back again. Lingering between your father and Richard, who wouldn’t let go of you ensuring they couldn’t lose a moment now you were together again. Barely the crack of dawn the breakfast waiting was steaming hot and much needed to help you through the easy day of filming ahead. Mainly you were doing more extra work beginning in Gondor while Becky was eased into her usual tasks with the full crew there to help keep her focused as she relaxed at being home again.

While John, who arguably gave you one of the tightest hugs behind Viggo and even Orlando, headed off to his own scenes to be touched up in Rohan you would be joining them in next week, certain to make it known just how glad he was that you were safe. Once on set giggling after brushing a strip of your blonde wig from your face you were scooped up into another hug by Sean you returned and pecked him on the cheek and took your place.

All day you enjoyed the easy day with Richard also eased into the background in a suit of armor riding a horse out of Gondor behind Faramir to battle at Osgiliath as you were seen working as Denethor ate to Pippen singing. All that bled into the next day where you were joining your father in Osgiliath where you spent the rest of the week as an orc fighting against the forces led by Faramir. These days adding more pictures to your collection of your various roles with bright red eyes and seven jagged teeth on your little warped and stapled metal plated face topped with a scraggly little patch of wilting hair.

Brightly in the thrilling backdrop of another film to add to his roster and the first of what he hoped to be many with you Richard smiled between takes and couldn’t help but wonder what the next week would hold for him in your trip to Rohan. Your last day however you were an odd woman traveler in Faramir’s hooded band of men outside of Gondor where they encounter Frodo, Sam and Gollum. Frodo and Sam were off in Shelob’s Lair set leaving you joining the men in their fake interrogation slash beating to Gollum that had to be altered to fit Andy in his body suit. The actor who spent every chance between the scenes joining in the group around you to get to know you better after those few scenes in his stalking you in the Moria scenes months prior.

He had more scenes in Shelob’s Lair with the duo for the second half of the day while you went to have a simple change or two to your appearance to be driven over to Rohan. The post battle celebration found you as both barmaid and in the next day aiding John in Gimli’s backwards fall before to the crew becoming a second woman mingling in the crowds the following day, both encountering Richard in his extra slot drinking and chatting with fellow men in the background.

Though amusing for Richard a third orc costume was glued around you to be one of the orcs to fight with your father in another Uruk costume to fight with you over the mithril shirt shirtless and tied up Frodo taking them away from the now conscious Hobbit now able to flee. The most troubling part however seemed to be for your father having to ‘kill’ you and throw you through a hole in the ground to a waiting group of arms below shouting “The scum tried to knife me!” Instantly followed by giggles from the hole as you were caught and promptly fake cradled by the largest of the men down there rocking you and patting your arm soothing you with sentiments as the group sent fake glares up to your father who joined them and you on the lower set.

There your ‘double’, and identically dressed larger male to tumble down a staircase into a table where you would pop up to join in the masses of orcs killing one another. The diversion distracting from when Sam calmed Frodo and the pair enjoyed post cut for them to watch you all just go crazy in your fight in the various takes granted by Peter to get as much to pull from as possible. All in between you were on the stairs to be scared away by Sam’s growls and shadows, then again seen carrying web wrapped Frodo off to the tower from earlier. For a week it was hard to keep up with just which orc you were and to Andy’s amusement he teased that for the end cut it might just be you fighting yourself and handling all the prisoner intake all through the film luring adorable giggles from you in your various horrid little costume personas.

The most amusing thing however was a steadily noticed fact, Gimli was growing. Steadily measurements had to be tweaked and smirking to themselves the wardrobe team kept note of how many inches they might have to shave off the platform bottoms of your Gimli boots. Inch by inch you crept your way to an adorable 5 ft 2 still keeping you well below the six foot actors to remain in the window to stay as Gimli’s body double not worrying Peter at all who made certain to comfort you on that fact.

All through your final days in the wonderful company of these lovely actors and family of a crew you got a handful of calls needing actresses from New York. Out of the mess the city was cleaning itself from there was a scrambling to help bring business back to it. Halfway through production already two stood out and with some actors leaving their roles there were countless spots open for you to return to. While Richard had to get back for rehearsals of the new play he was set to be in you flew off home to New York with your dad, who refused to let you go back alone worrying you might get hurt.

Already changes were evident as upon landing the regulations seemed to have been changed for landing international flights. Though it did little to deter you as you took the same route from the bus to the train and dropped off your things to head with your father to the auditions. Straight to the office you went and mingling in the hall with the director was Natasha Richardson and Jennifer Lopez, both who had been checking on the status of the production wondering about the recasts to the characters around theirs.

“Here for the auditions?” You nodded and accepted the clipboard only to notice the trio turning to glance at the new addition to the noisy hall of mainly teens hoping for their first roles.

Instantly Natasha’s lips parted and she moved closer asking, “Belini’s Norma, how was the record?”

Grinning at her you let out a weak chuckle saying, “My Mate’s Dad loves it. Played it for us, it’s fantastic. You and your family doing well?”

She nodded and glanced back at the director who asked, “You know each other?”

“Liam and I helped her pick out a sweater a few Christmases ago in London. Great taste in music.”

Jennifer asked, “I’ve seen you too, where have I seen you?” narrowing her eyes slightly.

“Well if you watched the Tony’s-,”

She pointed a finger at you, “Yes! That’s it, it’s the bob you’re missing. Chicago was fabulous, are you going to be in the film too?”

“No, um,” you let out a giggle, “No, they wanted big names. Mainly singers and I think Catherine Zeta Jones is playing Velma, so hell of a choice there. I think it’ll be great, just got back from New Zealand.”

Natasha, “Ooh, what was going on there?”

“Lord of the Rings. Mainly extra work, body and stunt doubling, I grew six inches, though,”

Natasha nodded glancing at your feet, “I did notice you were taller, assumed heels.” Meeting your eye again at your weak chuckle.

“Ya, so it should be easier to get roles now I think.”

Jennifer, “What type of exercise do you do besides dance, you have a great body, because I have another smaller budget film I’m in where I do Krav Maga and we need some more bodies there. Not very active mind you, but whatever you do I might take some pointers.”

“Well I mainly do floor work. Used to be a gymnast, so a lot of just body weight, elastic bands. All the tedious exercises everyone else hates.”

“We can trade numbers, get you to help me through some of those tedious tricks of yours.”

You nodded, “Sure,”

Natasha however looked over your shoulder to your father extending her hand, “How rude of me, you must be this charming young woman’s father.”

He grinned and nodded accepting her handshake, “Yes I am, Joe, pleasure to meet you Ma’am.”

Director, “You always bring your father with you to auditions?”

Joe answered, “We’ve been in New Zealand since September, I’m being a bit over cautious.”

Natasha shook her head and Jennifer patted his arm, “Nothing wrong with that. You wouldn’t happen to act, would you?”

Joe, “Just did my first job on the film with Jaqi here. A lot of battle scenes, mainly the big ugly monster guys due to my size.”

Natasha, “Well we do need a couple guards, don’t we?” Asking the Director.

He looked Joe over and said, “It won’t pay much, but it will have a good amount of scenes.”

Natasha smiled at you, “And you could be my assistant. Perfect for it, so we can get to know each other better since all the main speaking maids are cast, only a handful of lines though. I hope that won’t put you off.”

You shook your head with a giggle, “I have about twenty extra roles in the film and have about seven words spoken. Trust me, I thrive in silence.” Your answer made the pair smirk at you as the Director twitched his brow up impressed at your clear truth to the answer.

Natasha said, “You know, I know for a fact that Hugh Grant has a film in New York too in need of extras, they’re just a floor up,” she said taking your hand saying, “Come with me. I’ll make the introductions.” With Jennifer in tow you all made your way up another floor and found the Director there, who also had seen your show and jumped at the chance to work with you. All in all a lunch with famous faces ended with you returning to offices to sign the papers and accepting your scripts including your measly set of lines.

Yet by dinner a trio of new scripts showed up at your door by messenger with notes on them of times for you to come and audition for the roles including spots for your father in two of them. Over your dinner plates he asked, “So what are these exactly?” Taping the stack of scripts including the ones you had been hired for earlier.

“Well, looks like Maid in Manhattan is about a Maid who falls for a Politician who falls for her in return but assumes she’s rich and not working at the hotel. Two Weeks Notice, I’m working in an office where the male lead is an ass and makes the female’s life close to hell until she quits but there’s a slow building mutual pining there. Enough, is about a woman trying to leave an abusive ex, ends up toughening herself up to fight back, haven’t finished it but it has a feel that she kills him in the end. I will be a concerned friend it seems.

The others, one is a horror flick called the Ring, I get to play Becca, a teen at the beginning who ends up in an asylum. Darkness Falls, evil tooth fairy monster, I am a fleeing nurse, Daredevil, looks promising, want me to play a female warrior in, flashback scenes? I don’t know, and got a message from Ian earlier he’s talking about possibly getting me a mini slot on Xmen’s sequel. They have the cast mainly filled but he says maybe they can find wiggle room in the students. That one’s in Canada, but About a Boy will have to be filmed in London.”

Patting your hand he smirked at you, “That all sounds lucrative.”

“It’s barely two grand a pop.”

“Fourteen grand,”

“Not guaranteed or paid on until release. Not like Peter’s productions where it’s monthly salaries and a larger chunk upon release.”

“Doesn’t matter. Baby steps.” Making you smirk to yourself starting on your meal.

“Not so bad yourself, first film is a huge blockbuster and now you have a handful more to add to the list.”

“You may have just converted me on my career path you know. Could become the new family profession, least till you have some little ones, then I can stay and watch them for you while you travel around for work.”

“Dad-,”

“You are going to have dark haired bright eyed babies.” Making you giggle at his spreading smirk, “If Richard can manage to land a job near you long enough to make me some grandbabies.”

“Aren’t you meant to be pushing a wedding first?”

“Oh trust me, I have been pushing,” Making you scoff at his deep chuckle and fork stabbing into his broccoli and beef.

Pt 23

#Richard Armitage x Reader OC #Hugh Jackman #David Wenham #Peter Jackson #Natasha Richardson #Jennifer Lopez #Lee Pace x Reader OC

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jalebi-weds-bluetooth · 4 years

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Top 6 Underrated Comedy Scenes in IPK

Version: Arnav Singh Raizada & Situational Comedy

After a certain Khushi Kumari Gupta entered ASR’s life, let’s say she’s given him many moments to laugh. But sometimes, fate wants to laugh at his expense too. Here are six underrated moments in IPK where life did not give Arnav any lemons to make lemonade.

1. Banwari, The Dhobi (S3, E10)

The one day Arnav decides to do something right, the entire universe conspires to make everything go wrong. His day pretty much goes like this; Mission “Khushi, I am Sorry” Obstacle #1: Arnav can’t say sorry. Everyone can, but no one helps. Because Arnav never asks for help.

Solution - Just find Khushi. Obstacle #2: Ask Lavanya. Feign ignorance... feign ignorance... doesn’t Lavanya know who I’m talking about? Feign ignorance... she’s taken a vacation WHAT *fuck*.

Solution - Call Khushi

Obstacle #3: Can’t English when Khushi’s on the phone. Also, cuts the call himself, has the Rabba Ve wind, and facepalms himself. But the moment of this hilarious day that takes the cake is when Arnav instructs JP on whoever is by the door, to send that person to his room. Arnav (ready with the intense look): I need to speak to you

Someone with a voice that does not give him the Rabba Ve : Yes sir, tell me, anyways I’m used to the [scolding] Arnav (turns dramatically, intensity dead): WHO ARE YOU?

Not Khushi: Banwari, aapka dhobi. *sigh* We’re with you Arnav bitwa, we’re with you. Although you shouldn’t have yelled at Banwari ji. Banwari kinda predicted though.

2. Oh Aman! (S3, E34)

Before Khushi, khushingly, threw the mitti (soil) all over herself which led to the gentle-hot-sexy-eye-blow-dust-shy Rabba Ve; the mitti was in her hands, in his pot, and all the way from Arnav’s room to the living room.

And here was Aman, being Aman, taking every meticulous note of what his sir was saying.

“Okay Aman, I was saying that our delegates are arriving tomorrow at Banglore. Prepare your team and give them-” Arnav notices the soil on the floor “-Mitti?”

“Foreign delegates ko mitti dena hai, sir?” We should give the foreign delegates soil, sir?

No Aman bitwa!

“Oh Shut up Aman!”

This moment is outright hilarious and one can literally see Aman blurting out the first thought in his head - and it’s too late - before he gets yelled at by Arnav.

Poor Aman though;

ASR: *asks for confirmation by asking Aman to repeat*

Aman: *repeats*

ASR: *says something stupid*

Aman: *repeats?*

ASR: Oh shut up *I was commenting on something you have no idea and I expect you to understand my stupidity as you are more worthy than me in several scenarios and I don’t think you are human*

3. The Newly Shadi Shuda Arnav Singh Raizada (S6, E31)

When Arnav Singh Raizada got hitched (more like forcing a woman to elope with him), one expected many hearts to be broken. After all, the kunwara krorepati - bachelor billionaire - was off the market! But the one heart that I never expected to be broken by Arnav’ marital status, was of Shukla ji’s! Alternating between an Arnav who had no idea that man before him existed, and the canteen waala who believes he is an intrinsic part of Arnav’s life - it is one of the funniest scenes in the show. Shukla: Sir, I was just gone for a day and-

ASR: Who the hell are you?

Shukla: Sir I’m Shukla, the canteen waala *cue ugly crying* I AM THE ONE who brings your daily morning tea, without sugar, and your daily evening coffee, without sugar, to you.

ASR: *invoking Kanan Biswa from MPKDH Pretentious Movie Review* Toh problem kya hai?

Shukla: Sir that’s exactly what I’m asking, if there was an issue with *sobs*

ASR: Come to the point

Shukla: Nobody wants the canteen food, they’ve all found a new lunch service *sobbing continues* This provides me the bread and butter for my home and YOU destroyed-

ASR: What the! What did I do?

Shukla: YOU. GOT. MARRIED

ASR: I got married, how is that a problem to you?

Shukla: *sobs and leaves*

ASR: Sabki problem kya hai yaar! it’s awesome seeing ASR say yaar Crazy people.

*If this scene does not make you laugh, I will be extremely judgmental of you*

Also whoever played Shukla ji, your crying was epic.

4. Presenting Lakshmi Nagar, by Manorama Raizada (S7, E1)

There’s one thing about going to your in-laws house, there’s another thing of somebody frightening you to no end about it.

Manorama and Arnav have the strangest friendship - they are both well aware of the other’s faults and are not hesitant to use those faults - but somehow believe the first thing that is out of their mouths.

This scene might have not been funny, if Arnav was not straight up terrified and believing everything Mami ji said (until she would say something completely obnoxious). One can see that Arnav literally hangs on every word Mami says *lol*

Arnav: *can handle a fashion empire, a sleazy brother-in-law and millions of rupees*

Mami: *describes food floating in oil at his in-laws house*

Arnav: *nearly shits his pants*

This scene truly works wonders because of the fantastic acting and chemistry between Barun Sobti and Utkarsha Naik.

5. Khushi’s Dream Man, Not Arnav Singh Raizada (S7, E3)

Arnav knew Khushi liked Salman, enough to put a poster in his room to annoy the hell out of him. But here he sees that she loves Salman. Honestly dreams about marrying him - in a cheaply cut out poster of him and her in a palanquin.

And even though he has been in her room several times before, this is the first team he notices the little things about her.

It is cute and hilarious because in one second Arnav has five immediate opinions about her.

Arnav: I have to see Salman here, too? That too six times?

Arnav: Certified crazy… wait… what’s that

Arnav: A wedding palanquin with Khushi and… what… Salman?! WHAT THE?

Arnav: SHE ACTUALLY DREAMS OF MARRYING HIM?

Arnav: She’s crazy, childish but adorable, loveable and oh my fuck this little cutie patootie asdfghjk ahh I need to stahp;

The mental ‘what the’ was loud enough to shatter the walls of Gupta house.

Also, Barun, you are a treasure.

6. Never Underestimate the Power of a Common Belan (& Bua ji) (S8 E9)

I cannot begin with what I love about this specific episode. It is AMAZING to see Arnav get roasted (sorry bitwa), especially by his in-laws for a very valid reason.

He forgot his wife’s birthday. And he realised that. While yelling at her. In her home. In front of her family *slow claps*.

The hilarious series of moments begin from Arnav stating he doesn’t want to eat, and Bua ji (oh I love her in these episodes) just comes in front of him - stares at him - and challenges him to leave the house without eating. #ToughLove #BuajiRoxx (Abha ji, you are amazing)

The day really isn’t cut out for Arnav. It isn’t.

How Not To Celebrate Your Wife’s Birthday - Arnav Singh Raizada

On the night before her birthday, call her the biggest mistake of your life (don’t worry, if she wants to leave the house have something in handy to blackmail her with to stay back).

On the day of her birthday, yell at her, preferably in her house, where her family is present.

Oh, you still don’t know it’s her birthday.

Try to say h-hha...happ...ha

Don’t refuse lunch. Bua ji has a powerful belan.

Tell your wife hh..hh-hhaaa-- happy singh?

Notice what she’s missing, and buy the replacement (especially one that does not suit her style nor necessities)

Don’t attempt to pacify the family.

Eat 584219 puris, no questions asked.

Then look at your wife, ask for…. water.

Continue eating the puris.

DON’T ATTEMPT TO FLIRT IF YOU CAN’T GO BEYOND HA--HA--

Get served more puris. Win the family’s heart, oh fuck, not your wife’s though.

Give her the gift, selected and signed by your assistant. Oh, and don’t forget to say ha-ha---handsfree?

Act surprised when; she doesn’t believe the gift is yours, uses the bag what several middle class people use bags for, gets a heart attack on the price.

Oh don’t mention the price of the gift.

Forcibly feed cake, cut the cake, and attempt to flirt when she’s absolutely not in the mood.

Kiss her and give her the one meaningful gift, when she’s asleep.

Realise that you’ve fucked up and you’ll fuck up further. It’s a good thing you married her (oh shit and reminded her about the contract) and your cousin is her friend who can help you for the rest of your life.

With sincere What Thes, ASR.

Penned by NK. So that’s it for today - hope you all had a fun time reading this! And a big hug to all those who inspired me (you know who you are).

A big thank you to the scriptwriters and creatives for coming with these wonderful moments - comedy is one of the most difficult things to write!

#ipkknd #isspyaarkokyanaamdoon #thoughts #fun post #don't take it too seriously #arnav singh raizada #Khushi kumari gupta #bua ji #belan #top #nandkisore #aman #thought

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twdeadlysins · 5 years

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No Big Deal

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Reader

Word Count: 1,888

Summary: Derek and the reader split up in search of their unsub. The reader draws the lucky card when she finds him, but he has a weapon aimed at her lover.

Request: Requested by @lovelyy24 -> Can you please write a Derek Morgan x reader imagine, where the reader is a part of the team and gets hurt trying to save him? (Not badly) ❤️ Thanks in advance

Warnings: established relationship, fluff, the usual criminal minds stuff? and possible typos

Author’s Note: This is my first Derek Morgan fic, so I hope it’s decent! Thank you @lovelyy24 for the request, I hope you like it! This concept was the only thing I could come up with since it was stuck in my brain ever since I read the request lmao. Anywho enjoy!!

If you want to be tagged/removed for/from my Derek Morgan fics, then don’t hesitate to send me an ask, message, or leave a comment! The same goes for any other fics! I’m in no way, shape, or form a writer, so um don’t attack pls. Any feedback is much appreciated! Thank you and I hope you enjoy!

The gifs I use aren’t mine, so all credit goes to their respective owners.

MASTERLIST // DEREK MORGAN MASTERLIST

“Y/N, go front. I’ll round back, ‘kay?” You nodded, pecking your boyfriend’s lips with your guns drawn before splitting up. You and Derek were first on the ‘scene’ since you had gotten a call from Spencer stating the unsub was the person you were on your way to question. The unsub wasn’t a person of interest, he was just a lead on the person you all thought it was, his best friend that was also in the military, Austin, turns out the trail ended right there. The unsub was Christopher White, a father, a husband, and also a serial killer. He was a sniper in the military and brought his work into his personal life… by sniping Florida citizens in broad daylight.

You slowly swung the front door open and tiptoed around the living room, aiming your pistol swiftly around every corner. After clearing the downstairs entirely, you crept up the stairs, halting halfway when you heard a light bump. Hesitation lasted a split second before you proceeded up to the second floor, not calling for your partner since you didn’t want to alert the unsub of your presence if he was there. You’ve proven countless times to the team and yourself that you could hold your own, even Derek liked to call you his ‘lil badass’ and well… he’s not wrong.

When you first joined the BAU, you volunteered to go undercover since you were the unsub’s type despite everyone disagreeing other than Derek and Gideon, they had your back since day one. Hotch ultimately gave you permission after numerous pleas and so the operation was a go at the bar where the unsub preyed on his victims. After you flirted and acted like you were going home with him, he pushed you up against a wall in an alley and held a knife to your throat, seething threats in your face about screaming or resisting and the knife would go in your neck. Hotch kept calling your name through your earpiece when you didn’t answer, saying he should’ve never let you do it in the first place before giving orders to move in. Once they approached your location, they lowered their weapons in shock as you were finishing cuffing the man that was twice your size, that night Derek asked you out for drinks… the rest is history.

The hallway was dark and narrow, the only light source coming from the room on the very end where a lamp sat on a desk. Every other door was closed, so you chose not to search them knowing you’d come up empty and just end up making unnecessary ruckus. Once you reached the doorway, you turned to your left and steadily aimed at the man in question. Your eyes slightly widened seeing that he had his sniper rifle on a stand pointing towards his backyard where Derek was searching. Chris peered over his shoulder with a wicked smirk, knee leaning on the window seat. “I would hand over the gun, agent, or your partner’s death will be all your fault.”

You nervously swallowed and gripped your gun tighter, never being in the type of situation where the person you cared for was in danger and it was up to you to not get them hurt. Any other time you stand your guard and not give it up, but there was no talking down this unsub, so you carefully placed your gun on the floor and slid it over to him. “Okay, Chris, you got me unarmed. What now?”

He chuckled after looking into his scope, making you peek over to the grand window that was in front of you to see your boyfriend scoping out the garage. “Don’t you wonder why I do what I do?” Chris proudly questioned. He wanted to tell you his fascinating, disgusting story, but you already had him all figured out.

“No, I don’t ‘cause I already know why.” His brows went up in curiosity before gesturing his hands for you to continue, to tell him what you thought- rather what you knew. “After being honorably discharged, you missed the thrill of the work you did there. How the trigger felt against your finger, being able to see people at their most vulnerable- when they least expect a bullet to go through their skull, it’s amazing, isn’t it?” You described, hoping to distract him long enough for Derek to get out the garage and into the house so this would be all over. “The best part is that the people you kill… are or were criminals. The criminals who walk the streets keep committing crimes over and over again, and the ones who get out… well who's to say they won’t reoffend? I honestly don’t know why we’re stopping you, you do what we wish we could do,” you smiled convincingly, wanting him to think you were on his side.

“I’m impressed, agent… but did you really think I’d fall for the whole ‘I’m on your side’ act?’ He said before leaning down to look into his scope and just in time for Derek to exit the garage. “Wait, I gave you my gun! Don’t hurt him!”

The unsub tore his gaze off the sight and gave you a smug smirk. “I never said I wasn’t going to kill him if you handed over your gun, I said it would be your fault if you didn’t. So don’t worry, it won’t.” He went back to tracking Derek’s movements, waiting for the right time to strike and you were trying to hurry up and come up with a plan… and the plan you came up with didn’t sound the greatest.

“Y/N, baby girl, you alright? Got anything?” You heard your boyfriend say in your comm and you snapped your orbs over to see him standing still, waiting for you to respond. The unsub’s finger slowly went to put pressure on the trigger, causing you to mentally curse yourself before sprinting towards the unsub. The both of you hurtled through the glass window, rolling through a bed of flowers before ending up in a pool.

The water was ice cold, making you gasp when you breached the surface with the unsub’s shirt still in your grasp. With your free hand, you pushed your soaked hair out of your face as you swam, dragging the unsub with you to Derek who had ran to the edge of the pool. Chris struggled in your grip, splashing water in your face, only for him to get a punch in return from you.

“Baby, you okay?” Your boyfriend asked with concern, giving you a worried look as he was cuffing the unsub that was now glaring at you face down on the ground. You nodded your head tiredly before you heard car doors slam in the front, making Derek yell that you guys were in the back.

Derek stepped over the unsub, ordering for Rossi to take him before gingerly helping you out of the freezing water. He whistled, caressing your cheek and inspecting the cut on your forehead that continued to bleed, stopping at the edge of your eyebrow. “Here, baby girl, lets go get this patched up and have you looked at,” he suggested and before you could protest, he gave you the eyebrow raised look that meant ‘nuh uh baby girl, you goin,’ so you rolled your eyes and wrapped your arm around him.

While the EMT cleaned up the cut on your head, Derek was standing in front of you with his arms crossed, watching them aid you and you could tell something was on his mind. When they were finished inspecting you for any other injuries, they gave you the all clear, so you hopped off the back of the truck and grabbed onto your boyfriend’s bicep. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You stepped in front of him when he stopped walking, but before he could voice his thoughts, Hotch handed back your gun that you surrendered as he informed you that they’d meet you two back at the station you were helping. You smiled as you holstered your weapon, giving him a nod, he knew that the two of you needed to talk, you could see the acknowledgement on your boss' face.

“Things tonight could’ve been a lot worse, like a lot worse and it would’ve been my fault,” your boyfriend said, causing you to feel guilty. He shouldn’t feel responsible for what happened, it was not his fault at all and it pained you to know that he thought that.

You rubbed his arm with your thumb, your eyes soft and sad as you stared into his that were focused elsewhere. “Derek,” you called, your voice small as you laced your fingers with his, grabbing his attention. “He had a sniper rifle aimed at you… he was going to… he was going to pull the trigger and I had to stop him… I had to-” Your boyfriend eloped you in an embrace despite you being drenched, cradling your head as you snuggled into his chest, tightening your arms around his waist. You mentally sighed, glad that you didn’t have to explain yourself further, he knew and you didn’t trust your voice to.

After standing there for what felt like hours, he loosened his grasp on you and held your cheek. “You saved my life and here I am being a baby about my damn feelings.” You chuckled and covered his hand with yours before lifting his palm to your lips to kiss.

“You’re not being a baby, Derek… your feelings are valid, but don’t feel guilty. We separated to cover more ground and in the end we got the sonuvabitch.”

“You got the sonuvabitch,” he corrected with a smug grin, proud of you, his lil badass girlfriend. You playfully shook your head as he wrapped his arm around your neck while you did the same around his waist, walking in the road towards the car. “And you got a booboo in the process… I’m sorry, baby girl and I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“Eh, it’s no big deal.” You shrugged your shoulders and peered up at the man you adored, seeing him smile down at you with so much love. Derek pecked your head before you felt him pick something off the top of it, causing you to jerk your head back with questioning brows. Derek’s brows were raised up with amusement as he held a wet flower in front of your face before tossing it on the ground. You scoffed in disbelief, but with a smile as you pushed your boyfriend away from you, making him lose his balance and chuckle while he regained it.

“Oh. My. God. That’s why Hotch and the EMT looked at me funny! Derek Morgan, you are so getting it! Why didn’t you tell me!” Derek bolted down the road when he saw the irritated, but mischievous look in your eyes before you chased right after him. Once he peeked over his shoulder to see you hot on his tail, he turned around, making you jump into his arms instead of colliding into his chest. The two of you had the biggest grins on your faces as you giggled at one another before you brought your head down, giving him a passionate kiss.

#derek morgan #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan x you #derek morgan x reader insert #derek morgan x y/n #derek morgan fanfic #derek morgan fanfiction #cm fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #cm #criminal minds #derek morgan one shot #derek morgan oneshot #cm oneshot #f.

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everlarkficexchange · 5 years

Text

Now Voyager

Written by: @mega-aulover

Prompt 102: There’s only ONE bed! [submitted by anonymous]

Special Thanks to @everlarkficexchange for hosting the spring fic exchange every year. I’ve been so happy with all of the Everlark stories that have crossed my dashboard. I’ve been trying to keep up. Special thanks to my beta & friend @norbertsmom for her quick Beta work and always inspiring me to write better. Please note their are nods to the movie ‘Now Voyager’ in this fic.

Rated T

Part One of Two

The waves of the ocean sounded beautiful, unlike the advertisements. Katniss wearily dragged her suitcase behind her, the wheels making a clunking sound on the cobbled streets as she walked from the train station to the Hotel by the side of the ocean. It was hot and steamy and her hair stuck to her neck. All Katniss wanted to do was get to the hotel, check in, and shower.

Her entire life had been flipped upside down because she’d chosen to be safe. Ironically, Katniss avoided love because she considered it reckless and stupid. She’d purposefully chose to be with her childhood friend Gale to avoid what her mother had gone through. When her father died her mother became ill and forgot about her children focusing only on her pain. Katniss, at that tender age of eleven, became the adult in the family and she swore she wanted stability over passion.

Gale, her childhood friend offered that to her. They dated, and as couples do after a certain amount of time together, they became engaged. Little did she know Gale wanted passion and love, something Katniss couldn’t offer him. Days before their small wedding, Katniss walked in on Gale and the cobbler’s daughter in the sack. Oddly enough Katniss was relieved. She quietly called off the wedding and encouraged Gale to pursue Delly.

Her sister Primrose wanted to tear Gale apart when he and Delly eloped just last week. She refused to give them the honeymoon trip. Her sister argued that the person who deserved the vacation was Katniss. Nothing they could say changed her sister’s mind and in the end Katniss was persuaded to travel alone to the honeymoon destination she was supposed to take. Her sister Prim was more than just persuasive, she was like a bull in a china shop. She wouldn’t leave Katniss alone until she took the break. Katniss would rather work and make money, but after weeks of listening to her sister’s arguments, Katniss gave in.

Her journey began at three in the morning the day before. Trains were the cheapest mode of transportation from district to district, though they took forever. Those with money to burn traveled via hovercraft. Her journey took 21 hours because there was a problem on the rails. The engine broke down and they needed to wait for another. The replacement was derailed causing backups on the main line.

They were stuck in a remote area of the mountains. There was nowhere for the passengers to go to so they’d been stuck on the train until this afternoon the replacement engine finally showed up. And so here she was, a disheveled grumpy version of herself on the final leg of her trip. She’d been up for a total of 48 hours and all she wanted to do was get a full night’s sleep.

When she arrived at the hotel the sun was setting. Katniss was greeted by a perky blonde. “Welcome to the Victors’ Village Hotel Suite of District Four, how may I help you?”

“My name is Katniss Everdeen. I believe I have a reservation for a room that is being held?” Katniss pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. She didn’t need them, but she felt protected by them, a shield that kept all of the bad stuff away. The day she found Delly and Gale together she hadn’t been wearing them.

“Of course, do you have your Panem Identification Card,” the perky blonde said smiling.

Katniss wanted to roll her eyes, and wondered how the woman was talking without the smile moving from her face. It was like watching a ventriloquist work where the dummy was talkin but the lips of the person handling a dummy weren’t moving. She was speaking without moving her lips.

“Miss Everdeen, you were supposed to arrive here last night,” the blonde said and did that smiling thing that annoyed Katniss.

“I know, I was supposed to arrive here last night but there was a problem with the train that I was on. I called here and I spoke to a woman named Clove who assured me that my reservation would be kept until today,” Katniss politely explained.

“I see,” she said, her fingers flew across the keyboard. “Unfortunately you don’t have a reservation and you should have arrived here yesterday.”

“But I do have a reservation.” Katniss narrowed her eyes and took a deep breath before speaking once more. “I spoke to someone named Clove yesterday afternoon, does someone named Clove work here?”

The blonde’s eyes lit up and she smiled. “Of course I know Clove. We’re roommates.”

“Okay, so I spoke to Clove and she said you would keep my reservation until I arrived here today.” Katniss wondered if the girl had rocks in her head, or perhaps if she had used her face to get her places in life instead of employing her brain.

Without blinking or breaking her smile the girl spoke, “Unfortunately because you didn’t arrive yesterday your reservation is no longer valid.”

Now it was Katniss’s turn to pretend to be a ventriloquist and speak through her teeth, “I’d like to speak to a manager.”

“Okay, hold on for a second.” She picked up her phone and dial a number. “Finn, yeah there’s this woman here who had a reservation but didn’t arrive yesterday. wants to speak to you.” She nodded, “Okay.” Looking at Katniss the blonde said, “He said he would be right out.”

Taking a deep cleansing breath, Katniss was ready to pull her hair out or leap across the service desk and pull the blonde’s extensions out

“Ma'am, if you could just move away from the service desk while you wait for our manager, that would be wonderful,” the blondet said smiling, not a Katniss but at the person standing behind her. Katniss moved to the side and the man standing behind her walk forward.

He was one of them, another good looking blond. His wavy hair fell over his forehead and he gave the girl a brilliant smile showing off his dimples. Katniss saw real emotion for the first time in the girl’s face; her cheeks turned pink and her eyes flashed. “Welcome to the Victor’s Village Hotel of District Four, my name is Glimmer. How can I help you?”

“Hello Glimmer. My name is Peeta Mellark and I don’t have a reservation here. Are there any rooms available for the week?” From some reason there was something about his voice that caused Katniss’ spine to become tingly. It took Katniss a cool minute to figure out Glimmer was going to give the good looking man a room.

“Of course, we have a suite available for you,” she leaned over the counter. “I was supposed to keep it for some old hag who was arriving today, but I think I can help you.” Glimmer smiled politely and batted her eyelashes at him.

Katniss snapped and slammed her hand on the counter “OH NO YOU DON’T!” Her voice caused Glimmer to look up, shocked.

“Hello, I am Finnick,” the manager came out from the back office looking like he had one too many spray tans. He looked like a golden statue.

“She’s giving away my reservation!” Katniss said tightly between her teeth. She’d had enough. If the situation wasn’t resolved, she was going to blow a gasket.

“I am not. You were supposed to be here yesterday night!” Glimmer pouted and blinked with a blank stare on her perky face.

Katniss turned to the manager. “I called here and spoke to one of your employee’s named Clove who said she would hold my reservation because of the train problems. I just arrived and she says she doesn’t have my reservation, but I just over heard her say she was holding a reservation for a,” Katniss looked at Glimmer, “old hag, but that she was going to give away the room to him, who doesn’t have a reservation.”

Finnick smiled when he saw the man, “Peeta, welcome back to District Four Victors’ Village.”

“Hi Finn,” Peeta smiled.

Katniss couldn’t help the scowl that formed on her face.

The manager turned to her, “Glimmer do we have anymore rooms?”

“Only the suite,” the blonde said, “but it’s for a woman who was left at the altar.”

Katniss turned red when she heard the way the younger woman described her life.

“I am sorry miss. Did you provide Glimmer with your ID,” Finnick asked.

“Yes,” Katniss handed Finnick her ID, “the woman in question is me. My fiance left me for someone else. At the bequest of my family I came here to get away from it all,” Katniss quietly confessed.

“It is your reservation,” Finnick said giving the blonde a look. “But Peeta is one of our best clients.”

“What are you suggesting?” Katniss wasn’t sure she was going to like what Finnick had in mind.

“Share the suite; it’s big enough for both of you. I am sure Peeta is more than willing to pay you for half the room for the week.”

“A week! You want to stay in my suite for a week?” Katniss turned to the blond stranger who up to this point was silently observing every thing.

“Finnick let me speak to her,” Peeta said.

“Glimmer, come with me to the back.”

“What about the front desk?” the blonde asked.

“Don’t worry about the front desk.” Finnick walked her to the back office. As Finnick walked away Katniss heard him say, “This is what I get for doing a war buddy a favor.”

Katniss stood in the service area of the hotel with the man. His blue eyes seemed to penetrate past her ability to close off from people.

“I am sorry to hear about your fiance, but I come down here every year to work on the next bakery that I open. My assistant forgot to book my room. I only discovered it when I arrived at the airport. I tried calling around to see if there were any vacancies at other hotels but they all seem to be fully booked. There is a convention about a book with a female hero set in a dystopian society going on. I came here hoping my friend Finnick could help me. I really need the peace and quiet. Back home there are too many distractions to keep me from focusing in on the next branch of Mellark’s that we’re going to be opening.”

He ran his fingers through his blond hair. Katniss noticed the way his eyes were framed by long, nearly see through silver blond lashes that, impossibly didn’t tangle. Katniss couldn’t look away from his face. Normally she wasn’t someone who stared at people, period, but his face fascinated her. He had dimples on both cheeks. His lips were well formed for a man. He had blond stubble, and his nose wasn’t crooked like Gale’s nose; it was straight and perfect for his face. This man Peeta was charming, in that you could trust him easy because he was so laid back. He was intelligent and as she listened to him speak he was someone who words came easily to, unlike Katniss who spent her time in the woods of District Twelve cataloguing wild life, for the District Twelve national park reserve. There were days where she didn’t see anyone until she came home to her house in the Seam and spoke to her sister when her she was home from college.

Normally hearing people talk annoyed her; even Gale annoyed her at times, especially when they hunted together and he got riled up about something, she couldn’t get him to shut up. This man didn’t and Katniss couldn’t understand why.

“I’ve been expanding on franchising my family bakery one district at a time. I’m headed to District Twelve next and I need to use this week to sort of create a menu that is specific for the district. As Finnick stated, I am willing to pay for half of the suite, all the meals, and any entertainment you want to do for the next week. Besides, the room may come with double beds.”

Having him pay for half of the room meant she could make some money and use it toward her sister’s college tuition. Especially if he paid for the food, which as she discovered on the train was truly expensive. Nearly ten dollars for a hotdog and a drink. She nearly swooned when she saw the prices. Katniss considered his proposal carefully.

“Like I said, I just need a place to sleep.”

“You’ll pay for the meals?”

He grinned at her. “Yep, breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks, anything you want to eat.”

“Okay, we can share the suite,” Katniss sighed.

“Really?”

She nodded and he hugged her. Katniss froze up; she didn’t like to be touched, yet his scent of cinnamon and dill wafted around her and momentarily she relaxed her shoulders until she recalled he was a stranger. Katniss abruptly stepped away. She cleared her throat and looked at the ground.

“Oh good, you’ve come to an agreement.” Finnick stood smiling at them from behind the counter, next to him the blonde’s fake smile was back in place.

“Here are your keys,” Glimmer smiled and handed Peeta both cards as if Katni wasn’t standing by his side.

“Finnick, if you could do me a favor and let me know the price of the suite. I am going to pay Katniss for half the cost. Here’s my credit card so that any charges incurred can be put on it.”

“Sure,” Finnick said taking the credit card. Glimmer immediately scanned the card into the system.

“Enjoy your stay,” Glimmer addressed Peeta, but not Katniss.

Katniss rolled her eyes, irritated that the blonde was acting like the suite belonged to Peeta and she was being allowed to stay there. She sighed and waited for the paperwork to be done.

“If you both will follow me, I’ll take you to your cabin suite.” Finnick took both of their suitcases.

They both followed Finnick through a sliding glass door to the exterior of the hotel past pool. He took them to a golf cart. “Please take a seat.”

Within moments they were whisked away to a cottage by the sea. “I thought we were getting a suite,” Katniss’ words stumbled out.

“This is the Honeymoon Cottage you rented. It’s completely private, comes with concierge and butler, a private beach yet still accessible to the hotel.” Finnick pulled up to the quaint cottage. It was the type of place for Honeymooners or people escaping to have romantic getaways. She thought Gale had booked a room, maybe something with a living area.

It was an open concept floor plan with sliding doors in the back that allowed privacy for the bedroom. There was a dining area in the front and a screened porch that wrapped around the cabin with lounge chairs and wicker furniture. There was a wicker sofa facing a fireplace.

The cottage was decorated in a beachside theme with shells and corals scattered about. Images and paintings of the Seaside Inn Shoreline and sea glass filled Crystal vases, however to Katniss she didn’t notice a thing because there was only one bed, and it wasn’t even a large bed. It looked like a full sized instead of the standard queen beds most hotels boasted.

Getting her voice back, Katniss turn to talk to the manager Finnick, but by that time he was already on his way out. “But there’s only one bed,” she whispered.

“It’s okay, I’ll take the the wicker sofa,” Peeta volunteered.

Katniss blinked several times. She wasn’t someone who could talk and momentarily her brain has gone blank.

“Come on, let’s get settled in,” Peeta said jovially. He walked into the bedroom. “What do you prefer the dresser or the closet or do you want to go halves with each one?”

Katniss didn’t have much clothes with her. She didn’t even know what was packed in her suitcase because Prim packed it for her.

“How about we go half and half. If you don’t mind I’ll take the top drawers.” Peeta whistled as he put his suitcase on a chair.

Katniss mutely watched him quickly unpack. She had said yes with the belief that there was another place for him to sleep maybe a room set to the side where family could stay with their children, or at least a sofa bed. The wicker sofa was a two-seater and would not fit his frame.

Feeling guilty because of the situation she lowered her eyes and robotically put her things away, when it came time to put her toiletries in the bathroom everything looked so intimate, heat spread to her cheeks and her reflection showed just how red she became. Then it occurred to her, he was the interloper who almost ended up with her suite, she and Gale had paid for this suite as part of their honeymoon. Still that night when he was turning and tossing the guilt crept in. The sliding doors were thin and she could hear every grunt, sigh, and rustle.

Neither one got any sleep and it was apparent the next morning, when they met for the complimentary breakfast buffet the hotel offered. However her guilt changed when she saw Glimmer make a beeline for Peeta. Katniss bristled as she watched Glimmer giggle and flirt.

Katniss rolled her eyes. It made sense they were both blonde’s, much like the blonde she found Gale with. Her eyes narrowed and shoving her freshly cut fruit in her mouth, she wondered what they were so chummy about.

Despite her curiosity Katniss shrugged and read the hotel brochure on the free events going on that week. It was cloudy outside but by the time she finished breakfast it was overcast and Katniss could smell the sweet and yet pungent aroma of rain in the air. Katniss decided to go to the gift shop to get her sister one of those I was here t-shirts that are the rage in Twelve. Not many people travel and things purchased in other districts are highly prized.

While browsing at the gift shop. She noticed she was being followed by one of the shop girls. Katniss knew this feeling all to well. Some of the older Merchants back in Twelve followed people from the Seam, with the excuse they were afraid they were going to steal. Katniss was going to turn around to confront the sales clerk when Glimmer arrived.

Both women ducked between the isles.

“Is that her?” The sales clerk whispered.

“Yes.” Glimmer said loudly. Obviously the woman did not know how to whisper.

“You’re right she’s so old!” Both giggled.

Katniss rolled her eyes. They were all around the same age. Except these two didn’t have any responsibilities like Katniss did. She was paying for her sisters education, her mother’s therapy, and all of the house bills. They were obviously spying on her.

“She claimed that she was engaged?” Glimmer laughed.

“How in the world? Have you researched her claim?” The clerk asked.

“I asked my friend, you know the hot one,” Glimmer said.

“Cato’s so beefy,” the girl said dreamily.

“Has she stolen anything?” Glimmer asked.

“No, but I’ve been watching her, she looks so suspicious.”

Katniss was shocked by the question.

“She looks suspicious. There is something about her that rubs me the wrong way. I didn’t like the fact that she got away with taking Mr. Mellark’s room.”

“Maybe you should check up on him, just in case?”

“I did this morning. I even asked him if he had all of his belongings, you know if anything was stolen?”

Katniss fisted her hands feeling humiliated by their conversation. She was well respected in her community. She fought all of her life to keep food on the table after her childhood went belly-up. To hear them think she could steal hurt and enraged Katniss at the same time.

Katniss grabbed a t-shirt of a squirrel with sunglasses in a chair with the caption, ‘Corky At The Beach’. She walked right up to them. “I would like to purchase this for my sister.”

They both stood mouth ajar.

Glimmer gave her that fake smile. “Are you sure? That shirt is quite costly, especially for someone one on a budget.“

“I am quite sure!” The shirt could have been 50 credits at this point and Katniss wouldn’t have minded.

“Glimmer,” Finnick’s voice rang behind Katniss.

“Are you insinuating one of our guests cannot buy a t-shirt for her sister?”

Glimmer’s eyes went round and her face turned pink. “No, I am only…”

“Miss Everdeen I am sorry about this; please take the shirt on the house. I am sorry for the inconvenience. In fact, if you would like I have some promotional trinkets we give to our guests.”

Katniss noticed Peeta was with Finnick. His gaze was intense, and she asked herself if he believed that she was no better than a petty thief. His eyes bore through hers. She suddenly felt like one of the those kids from the home, the kids everyone pitied but no one wanted. Casting her eyes away from Peeta she said, “I am sorry, thank you for your offer, but I can’t.”

She walked away. Outside it was beginning to pour. People ran past her looking for shelter. Katniss walked slowly in the rain. The day she found out about Gale was also rainy. Her mind flashed to that moment.

Delly had that same look as if she pitied her. Katniss recalled how Gale said he was sorry for cheating on her. Katniss reigned in her feelings and didn’t let them affect her behavior, even though she wanted to shoot an arrow through Gale’s eyes for the betrayal. Though it was Delly’s look that affected her the most. It was the same look she received from the people who lived in the Seam when her mother’s mental health unraveled and they knew it was only a matter of time before she and Prim were shipped out to the Community Home.

Katniss refused to allow those looks to affect her and she refused to allow that same look to affect her now. She walked to a cliff near the ocean. The rain covered her tears.

All of her life she’d struggled to make it, to be more than what people judged she ought to be. She was a girl who hunted in the woods beyond her districts border with a bow and arrow for fresh meat because she couldn’t afford the meat sold in the grocers. She traded that fresh meat to those who wanted something rare or something they themselves couldn’t afford. She traded for everything from string to pieces of leather to repair shoes. Katniss struggled all of her life to balance a measly budget and pay the mortgage and utility Bill’s. Sometimes she refrained from eating just so that her family could. She wore clothing with holes, layered on sweaters because her father’s leather jacket had no lining. She cut Prim’s hair so that her hair always looked nice. Those women didn’t understand sacrifice. They didn’t understand going to sleep hungry or cold. They didn’t understand the value of a credit and how fart it could go.

She scrimped and saved and never finished college because she had to help her mother and decided to put her sister’s education first. No one knew, but she did. She missed the warmth of her father everyday. She missed the bright days filled with sunlight and laughter. She missed the music. She lived in colorless a gray world.

Wiping her face, she looked around her. The wind blew, the ocean roared and raged just like the world she carried inside of her. Katniss was so tired. So tired of carrying the load all by her herself. She dreamt of having someone to talk to, to hold her hand when things got bad, and although she knew Gale wasn’t right for her she hoped he would do that during this trip. She worked hard to pay for this trip to bring that dream to life. The day she found Gale with Delly, that dream died. Gale loved Delly, she could see it in the tender way he held her, protecting her. Katniss walked away just like she’d done today.

Wiping her face she, left the cliff and went back to the suite.

Peeta stood when she entered.

“Do you think you could order some soup?” she quietly asked.

“Sure,” Peeta replied.

“Thank you.” Katniss went and took a hot shower. The soup was waiting for her on a tray on the bed when she exited the bathroom. She sipped it and then laid in the bed, but didn’t sleep. In fact she didn’t eat dinner. She stayed in the room listening to the storm rage outside. In the morning she left, determined to have a good day.

That afternoon when she walked back into the hotel room there was Glimmer giggling.

“You didn’t have too,” Peeta said. He held in his hands a plate of chocolate covered strawberries.

“It’s no problem.” Glimmer laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

Katniss rolled her eyes as she passed by to use the bathroom. When she finished she walked out into the main room. Peeta was bent over his laptop and Glimmer was giggling. Katniss quietly stepped outside. As the screen door closed she overheard Glimmer say, “If she gives you any problem, let me know and I can have her kicked out.”

Katniss nearly tripped going down the stairs. It reopened the wound in her heart that was still fresh from yesterday. She wondered what Peeta told the woman, did he agree? Was he looking for a way to get her tossed out of the room? Katniss bit her lip to keep her ire and frustration tapered down.

That woman ought to be fired, Katniss thought. She considered going to the manager and complain, but instead she went to a hotel sponsored free event.

That night Peeta dressed to go to the hotel’s Four Star Restaurant. Katniss smiled tightly; she didn’t want to go out to eat. She wanted to spend a quiet evening in the hotel suite without him. She’d spent the rest of the day out exploring the beach, caught one of the crafting activities that was filled with senior citizens. She’d met Mags, a sweet little old lady who invited her to go to tomorrow’s bingo. Her plans for tomorrow were set and all she wanted to do was sleep. She hadn’t slept well since stepping on that train.

“Come on, you’ll have fun.”

“No, thank you.” Katniss said as politely as possible, keeping in mind the conversation she overheard that afternoon. She slipped her glasses on; the tub was calling her.

“Yesterday we didn’t get to do anything. We were stuck inside during the rain. It’s beautiful tonight, and I don’t want to eat alone.”

His argument was persuasive, it was a beautiful outside. From the windows the night was clear and stars twinkled in the sky. Still, even with the promise of a starry night and excellent food she hesitated.

“You skipped out on lunch. You must be hungry.”

Katniss was going to refuse but her stomach growled. It was true she skipped lunch. She’d been drinking the complimentary cucumber infused water to keep hunger at bay. She was an expert at fending hunger away.

“Just put on one of those long dresses women wear to resorts.” He smiled, standing in his crisp white shirt and dress pants.

“I don’t think they allow muumuus at the restaurant.”

He chuckled, as he slipped on a lightweight jacket. “You don’t have a dress?”

Katniss turned pink. He knew very well she had a black dress and a green dress. They’d hung next to the pants he was wearing.

Peeta raised an eyebrow and grinned, displaying his dimples. Katniss wondered why he had to look so darned cute. But even as the smile crept on her face she recalled he was possibly in cahoots with Glimmer. Her voice was flat when she replied, “Fine.”

Katniss slid the doors shut, her hands shook from nerves. She wasn’t really good in public situations. At home she and Gale never really went out anywhere. They just hung out at in the woods or in one of their houses. Dressing up to go to a restaurant was something new for her. Katniss wasn’t used to wearing fancy clothes. The fanciest dress she never got to wear was her rented wedding dress. There was nothing extraordinary about the dress. It had no beading, no pearls, no crystals, no lace and not a single apliqué. The dress shop owner told her the neck was scoop and it’s skirt was an a-line. Katniss didn’t know what that meant; the price was all she cared about. She rented it for 50 credits because it had a light stain on the collar. The dress fit a little long and was a bit big, but Katniss didn’t mind. She was only going to wear it for a few hours. It just didn’t make sense to buy an expensive gown.

“Dang it, why did you have to say yes, Katniss. He’s trying to get rid of you,” she muttered to herself.

She rushed to the closet and was relieved when she saw the notes pinned to the lining of the dresses. Her sister had left her directions pinned to her clothing. Katniss read the note carefully.

‘If you’re wearing the black dress, use the gold sandals, my black clutch (a clutch is a purse you hold in your hand it has black crystals on it). If you are going to a fancy restaurant leave your hair down Katniss, and for goodness sake don’t forget to smile!’-Prim

Katniss found the shoes easily, they were the only gold ones. The clutch was the difficult one because there were two black bags, she went back to the dress and reread the note. “Of course the black crystals,” she muttered.

She showered and she unpinned the small note and stuffed it into the clutch before putting on the shift dress. When it came time to do her hair, she didn’t feel comfortable leaving it down. She pinned it up into a bun, and slipped on her glasses. Looking at herself in the mirror she saw a short frumpy girl and thought this was as good as it gets.

She walked out but did not notice the way Peeta’s eyebrows shot up at the sight of her. Nor did she notice the way he cleared his throat several times while rubbing the back of his neck. Katniss was busily trying to close the clutch. She just couldn’t figure it out. It was ironic that she could shoot a bird in the eye as it flew through the air but she could close the small hand held bag.

“Are we ready?”

Katniss looked up, her mind still debating on weather or not she should bring the clutch with her. All she really needed was her key card to the room, and that she could stuff in her bra. Then the thought of Peeta watching her stuff her card into her undergarment caused her to rethink that. “Yes.”

Peeta extended his arm toward her and Katniss froze. She had a thing about touching, but he was so earnest she shyly put her hand on his forearm. She told herself this wasn’t anything and he was just being nice to her. It was apparent by what she witnessed today he was into Glimmer.

When they arrived at the restaurant they were whisked right in. Peeta had made a reservation the night before. Katniss sat down and acknowledged she was starving.

“Hello, my name is Rodney, I’ll be your server for the evening. May I start you out with some drinks,” the server asked handing them the menus.

“Do you have the refreshing water with the cucumber?” Katniss asked.

“Yes ma’am.” The server turned to Peeta, “And for your sir?”

“I’m not sure what I am eating yet, Rodney. I’ll take a glass of the water for now.” Peeta looked at the menu and asked, “What are the chef’s specials tonight?”

“The risotto is good, the lobsters are fresh, but tonight’s specialty is the filet mignon with tender baby potatoes and a selection of either green beans or asparagus.” Rodney smiled.

Katniss knew exactly what she wanted to order.

“Is Frankie still making the those rolls with the sea salt sprinkled on the top?” Peeta asked.

“Yes, he is, he’s famous for them around here.” Rodney stood straighter.

“Okay can we have a some of his rolls, and let him know Peeta is here.

“No problem, sir. I will give you a few minutes to go over the menu. I will return with your drinks.”

Katniss watched Rodney leave and questioned who Frankie was and just how many times Peeta had frequented this hotel to know staff by their names. She put her menu down on the table. It was funny, Peeta poured over the menu like her sister did when she read one of those trashy novels.

“Frankie updated the menu,” Peeta mused.

“Who is Frankie?”

“Finnick’s brother-in-law. He’s a great cook and makes these rolls that are light and fluffy, with a sprinkling of sea salt on top. Can’t wait.”

“In Twelve we like heartier breads with grains, nuts, and fruits.”

“Good to know,” Peeta smiled.

Katniss looked down and grabbed her purse. She fidgeted with the clasp trying to close it, but it wouldn’t budge. Rodney appeared with the cucumber infused waters and a bowl filled with green fish shaped bread. She watched Peeta grab one and unceremoniously eat it.

“Try it,” he urged.

She skeptically eyed the green bread. Having grown up poor and starving she never turned down food. Slowly she reached out for one, sniffing it before she took a tentative bite. It tasted like bread. It was slightly sweet, but it was balanced by the sea salt. She smiled and reached for another one when her bag fell open on the table. Her note landed on Peeta’s charger plate.

He looked down at the paper and read Prim’s note to her.

Mortified Katniss didn’t know where to turn. The restaurant was filled with people and she couldn’t make a stealthy escape.

“I think you dropped this.”

Katniss took the note with shaking hands. “It’s my sister. She packed my suitcase. All of the clothing is hers. She wanted me to have a good time after my ex left me, well he married the girl he was…shortly after I found them together.” She nervously fiddled with the clutch. “You could say I’m just an old maid playing dress up.”

“You look wonderful tonight.” Peeta’s voice was warm and it caused a tingle to rush up and down her spine. “That was very nice of your sister. You guys must be very close.”

Katniss couldn’t help smiling at the mention of her sister. “We are very close.”

“Does she have your stunning looks?”

His compliment caused her cheeks to feel warm. She cleared her throat. “Um no, we do not look alike. She actually is a blonde.”

“Really?”

“She’s very fair and burns very easily just like our mother did. I look like our father.”

“My brothers and I aren’t as close. One of my brothers is a surgeon in District Three. The other owns four clubs in the Capitol. The surgeon is on his second wife; the other has multiple partners and doesn’t think marriage is natural. I’m the odd one in my family, I wanted to be like my father, baking is my life. I like the smell of rising dough. I enjoy spending hours inside of the kitchen making recipes. When I open a bakery I spend months there perfecting recipes for the residents.” He smiled then said, “I think I’m boring you.”

Katniss shook her head no.

“What I should have said is you look lovely tonight.”

His words seemed to be sincere and for a moment she questioned if he truly was in cahoots with Glimmer. She cast her eyes down to compose her response. When she looked up Peeta looked like he was going to say more but a man dressed in a chef’s uniform came out and interrupted them.

“Peeta!”

Peeta stood, “Frankie!”

Both men embraced. Peeta stood in front of her and the chef did not notice her. His attention was on Peeta solely.

Katniss was glad to have the attention off of her. She sat back watching Peeta talk to yet another blond. She never noticed how many blonds there were in the world. Growing up, the only blondes she knew were her sister, her mother, and the Merchants she traded with. Her entire life she’d been surrounded by people who looked just like her. Traveling had opened her eyes.

“I didn’t know you were back? Finnick didn’t say anything. Although lately he’s been worried sick about Annie. She’s expecting their first child.”

“I’ll congratulate him when I see him again. So what’s good on the menu?” Peeta grinned.

“Forget the menu. For you I’ve got a few recipes I’ve been toying with. If you don’t mind, that is?” Frankie clasped his hands.

“That sounds great.” Peeta eyes shined brightly.

“Would you like to see the kitchen? I’ve made renovations?”

“I would love to Frankie, but I’m here with someone.” Peeta smiled directly at Katniss. “Frankie this is Katniss, Katniss this is Frankie.”

She wanted to sink in her chair, she thought he’d forgotten she was there.

“Oh, so you do,” Frankie’s eyes widened.

“It’s okay,” Katniss managed.

“Well now I really have to impress you!” Frankie said winking.

“You better get back to the kitchen before the staff stages a mutiny!”

“They wouldn’t dare. I’ve got this place working ship-shape.” Frankie turned to Katniss, “It was a pleasure.”

Katniss nodded.

The chef left, but no sooner did he leave than the food began arriving. A ceviche, shrimp marinated in citrus juice, Chicharon, fried pig. Katniss loved the crunchy slivers of pig. A small sandwich he called a slider. There were two; the one he called a po’boy had fried crawfish, the other called a cubano had slices of tender pig, a pickle and white melted cheese. They also brought out oysters, steamed clams, with lemons on the side, a fried snapper sauteed with onions and tomatoes, tomato soup Frankie called gazpacho, and finally a plate of rice that had every seafood you can imagine inside of it. Frankie called it Paella.

By the time the desert came out Katniss was stuffed. She couldn’t eat anything more, but she had to try the lemon meringue. It was so light and airy but it did but her eyes were closing. They left the restaurant walking slowly back to the cottage.

She’d never been this full in her life. She was food drunk. Her body was delirious with the flavors of the food she’d eaten. She smiled at Peeta through the haze of the impending food coma.

“You’re whole face changes when you smile,” Peeta said with a grin.

“Feed me like that I’ll give you all of the smiles of the world.”

He laughed. “Your finance was a fool. Most of the women I know would never eat half the stuff they put in front of you.”

“Why?”

“Most of them want to be skinny,” Peeta shrugged.

“Most of the girls back home where I’m from are skinny, too skinny if you ask me, but not by choice. Food is a commodity back home. Only the wealthy can afford to eat. It’s a very poor district, but it’s home.” Katniss yawned, “Oh look we’re home!”

Katniss hummed absent-mindedly as she made her way to the room. She stripped and threw herself at the mercy of her bed. Though she couldn’t sleep much because halfway through the night she heard Peeta getting up and trying to rearrange his sleeping. Guilt crept in once more. He’d been so nice to her this evening and did not make fun of her about the note or how much she’d eaten. She got up and went to the sliding door, reaching her hand out with the intent to open it and check up on him. She withdrew her hand and scurried back into her bed and spent the next few hours listening to him trying to find sleep.

The next morning she got up and noticed the dark circles underneath her eyes. “Not much I could do about that she muttered her to herself.”

She peeked out of her room thinking Peeta was asleep. She was wrong; he was already gone. Sighing, she walked to breakfast. She truly wasn’t that hungry. She simply wanted to thank Peeta for sharing last night’s meal with her. He didn’t have to. She was only going to order the steak and go home. It turned into something more.

Katniss spotted him at the fruit bar. She was about to greet him when Glimmer appeared.

“Hello Peeta,” Glimmer batted her eyes and put her hand on his shoulder. “I wanted to let you know that I’ve reversed the charges of the dinner you paid for last night and charged it to to the room.”

Hearing what she did caused Katniss to see red.

“Glimmer it’s no problem, I promised to pay for our meals.” Peeta took a step back.

Glimmer glanced at Katniss. “You shouldn’t have to pay for anything since the room was available. That woman had no right to claim that room.” She put her hand on Peeta’s arm. “I feel bad that you have to share a space with her. Is she treating you alright?”

“Glimmer, I thank you for taking such excellent care of me, Finnick will be happy to know you care about customer service. However I would like for you to-”

“Really you think I’m taking good care of you? I am so glad. You know I found out her ex married the woman he left her for.” She glanced over Peeta’s shoulder at Katniss once more. Her lips contained a cruel smile. “It’s no-wonder she was dumped at the altar. I mean look at her she’s so old. Are you sure nothing is missing?” Glimmer winked as she left.

As quickly as her anger rose it quickly dissipated. The comment hurt. Katniss looked at what she was wearing; everything from her shoes to her hat screamed old maid. Putting down her plate Katniss walked away, thinking she was fooling no one. She was the reason Gale cheated. In his hearts of heart Gale knew she didn’t love him, as a cherished old friend yes, but not the way a woman loved a man. Maybe if she put some effort into trying to please him they would still be together.

Wiping her face, she opened the door to the suite and dragged her suitcase out.

“Where are you doing?” Peeta stood in the room.

“I’m leaving.” Her voice sounded flat, though she was a mess on the inside.

“Why?”

Katniss opened and closed her mouth several times.

There was a knock at the door followed by Glimmer’s voice. “Peeta are you okay. After our talk I noticed you left so suddenly. I have your coffee and I’ve made you a plate of food.”

Peeta held up one hand. “Wait let me just..”

Katniss watched him race to the door.

“Hi Peeta, are you okay?”

“Hi thank you so much-” Peeta didn’t open the door all of the way.

“Wait?!” Glimmer tried to look over his shoulder. “Did she do something to you? Do I have to call security?”

“No, and No,” Peeta firmly stated.

Katniss turned to the dresser and began pulling her clothing out and stuffing it inside of the suitcase. Katniss was tired of the situation, of being treated as if she didn’t matter, and being treated poorly.

“Katniss don’t go. You deserve to be here just as much as I do, Glimmer-”

Katniss had enough. “Don’t you dare defend her. I know what you two have planned.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Of course she likes you with your long blond Lashes in your dimpled cute face. Not everyone has a Miss Congeniality personality that attracts others around them like moths to fire!”

“You think I have a cute face!”

She threw her hands up in the air. “Is that all you heard?”

“Well you think I’m cute.” he grinned. “All the reason not to leave. I think your beautiful.”

Katniss stopped packing. “What?”

“The way you scowl, it’s adorable,” Peeta said. He then proceeded to not only tell her the different way she scowled but contorted his face to look like each one. “You have your ‘I’m mad scowl’, your ‘I’m annoyed’ scowl, ‘I’m ready to shoot you’ scowl and my favorite, your ‘I’m confused or scared so let me hide it with a scowl’ look.”

Katniss wanted to laugh at his faces but then she recalled he was trying to get rid of her. She stomped to the closet and pulled out her clothing. “I cannot be here. You don’t want me here and you’re plotting with Glimmer to get me kicked out. So you know what, to save you all of that trouble I will leave, I volunteer. I volunteer to leave.”

Peeta took her clothing and hung it up. “Nope, you’re just tired. We’re both tired.”

Stunned, Katniss watched him hang her clothing back. “What?” She was so tired and frustrated she was at the brink of tears.

“I wondered if you heard that. Just for your information, I told Glimmer that would be unethical and that you were a wonderful roommate.”

“I haven’t done anything for you.” Katniss shook her head.

“Yesterday I was looking for you for lunch. I found you making arts and crafts with the elderly ladies. You were zipping around the room smiling at them helping them with the projects. It was sweet to see you smile. You’re a caregiver, Katniss. I bet you do the same at home. You care for everyone and everything and leave yourself for last.”

Once more her anger toward him disappeared. Katniss blushed. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Emotionally she was spent; she couldn’t think anymore.

“Last night I heard you get up.”

“How did you know?”

“The bed made a squeak when you got up and laid back down.” Peeta explained. “I know you were, in your own way, checking up on me.”

She tiredly nodded her head.

“You have dark circles under your eyes which means you haven’t been sleeping.” Peeta sat on the bed. “Come here,” he patted the spot next to him.

Katniss sat down next to him.

Peeta leaned back to lie down on the bed and pulled her closer, resting her head on his chest. She allowed it because she was so exhausted. “So you’re not trying to kick me out?”

She felt the rumble of laughter in his chest before she heard it, “No.”

He began to gently run his fingers through her hair. His actions and the sound of the steady beat of his heart lulled her to sleep. Hours later she sighed as she woke up nestled on top of Peeta’s chest feeling refreshed and energized. Katniss couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so soundly and so well. She bit her bottom lip as she glanced up to see he was still sound asleep. One arm nestled behind his head, the other draped across her waist. Normally she avoided touching, she was comfortable with Prim or her mother, but they didn’t hug. This was different this was special. Katniss didn’t know what to do with herself. All she knew was this was what she had desired all along with Gale and she had found it in the arms of a stranger.

To Be Continued….for Buttercupbadass…

#Springtime Edition 2019 #submission #mega aulover #prompt 102

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janeaustentextposts · 5 years

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I feel like I would have that reaction if Jane Austen was a contemporary author writing about Lizzie's pluck and determination and Strong Morality, but given that Austen saw this stuff happening with people she knew l can't condemn Lizzie. I love Charlotte and good for her but I'd disagree that going with "probably will be very poor" over "definitely going to go insane or commit murder within 60 yrs" is the immature decision. Granted yes there are probably solutions between that (1/2)

(2/2) and the Bennets as a whole kiiiind of COMPLETELY riding on the assumption that Jane Is Pretty, She'll Marry Rich was -not- that solution, but. Lizzie's stated reasons for refusing Collins were pretty valid; everyone would have been miserable.---

“Definitely going insane or committing murder” is a bit...dramatic, don’t you think? The whole point of Charlotte is that she knows how to manage Mr. Collins and make it work for her! She’s not unhappy, and she knows what she’s doing! Sure, Lizzy followed her heart and bagged Mr. Darcy, good for her, but she didn’t know she was going to do that: she had no plan and a heap of luck!

Charlotte is putting in the work for her happy ending, and Lizzy eventually grows up enough and observes enough of how Charlotte is living at Hunsford to appreciate that everyone is different, and someone else’s version of happiness not being one she could bear considering for herself doesn’t make other people dumber or worse than she is. Had Mr. Bennet died and Lizzy had to contend with living on literal charity from friends and family, Charlotte would be the person in a position to gloat, if anything. Not that she would, because Charlotte isn’t a dick and would probably do her best to see the Bennets as comfortable as possible even if her husband inherited Longbourn--maybe move them into a cottage on the estate or in the village, likely with help from the Gardiners, as Mrs. Bennet and her girls become the P&P equivalent of the Bates, hoping a friendly neighbour will send them a ham and some nice apples to have sparingly through the winter.

You’re right, Lizzy would have been miserable with Mr. Collins because Lizzy was not equipped or prepared to make any kind of compromise. That’s who she is, fine, and it’s taken for granted that Austen is mostly on her side because Elizabeth is her heroine and the clever Mr. Bennet backs her up, but...Lizzy is her father’s favourite. Her mother is silly in many respects, but her fears are valid, and the Lydia thing proves Mr. Bennet has kind of been letting the side down when it comes to giving a shit about what’s going to happen to his daughters after he’s dead. Sure, he rather teasingly tells Lizzy that her mother will disown her if she doesn’t marry Mr. Collins, and he’ll disown her if she does, so haha Elizabeth is off the hook and that’s great for her; but that her father so lovingly declined to disown her so long as she refused a clergyman with good prospects isn’t going to serve her all that well when he dies in a few years.

Would the misery of Elizabeth’s thin skin and inability to manage life with Mr. Collins be more or less miserable than contending with the downward spiral of supporting six women on so little money that the charity of even basic food staples would probably be necessary as ‘gifts’ from friends and neighbours? Mary could possibly be sent out as a governess, but I can’t imagine her meeting with much fortune or success, in that line--she’d likely barely be able to keep herself on her wages, perhaps sending a little money home, and being one less burden on the housekeeping ledgers for the widowed Mrs. Bennet and her remaining daughters. (And Mrs. Bennet doesn’t seem the sort who is used to managing a tight budget.)

But Austen makes time for Charlotte, too--and she writes about Lizzy’s maturation to realize that Charlotte hasn’t made a deal with the devil, but a very real compromise that many women made. We have to be careful not to vilify Mr. Collins to such an extent that he’s an impossibility. At most, he’s that bloviating moron who sits in the front row of your Intro to Philosophy class and constantly kisses the lecturer’s ass. These are relatively simple creatures to outwit, and Charlotte is a master, already. She’s met him maybe a handful of times in public and manages to manipulate him into proposing to her--I can’t imagine the level her powers will ascend to once she’s actually married him and had a chance to observe him closely for even 48 hours. She will own him for eternity and find every way to get her way.

It’s not romantic, no. Charlotte herself admits she has no time for romance; and one gets the feeling from the tone of Austen’s letters (and even her treatment of Marianne Dashwood and Catherine Morland’s journeys to maturity,) that she felt relying too much on romantic ideals could come at a heavy price. The most successful women of her novels temper their romance with reasonable humour, wit, self-awareness, and a willingness to accept imperfections in themselves and others. Lizzy is fortunate, because Lizzy is the heroine of a novel, and has a second chance with Darcy despite the extremely long odds of all things considered (her first refusal being the Sickest of Burns, her family’s continual state of being poor and embarrassing, Lydia’s elopement, the fact that in trying to restore respectability to the family Lydia should be permanently bonded to the man who would have ruined Georgiana in public and broke her trust in private as well as scheming and presuming upon the good-will of Darcy’s dead father and basically deeply fucking with that entire family over the course of many years, and Darcy’s heavy doubt that Elizabeth could ever care for him until he has the faintest whiff of a chance only because his aunt lost her shit over everything and happened to meddle in precisely the way to psychologically backfire and give him hope.)

It’s like a Rube Goldberg machine of situational coincidences which deliver Darcy’s second offer, and Lizzy has maybe earned it in a karmic sense because she has done a lot of self-reflection and personal growth? Of course they’re in love and all that jazz, but the 10 000 a year is really beyond anything anyone could have hoped for, for her. Charlotte doesn’t get anything dropped so neatly into her lap--Charlotte goes out there and makes things happen...and that’s kind of bad ass in a way that’s beyond what we see Lizzy capable of doing.

Charlotte Lucas has magical manipulation skills Elizabeth can only dream of.

#Ask Me Anything Austen-Adjacent #AMAAA #Jane Austen #Pride and Prejudice #gif #Anonymous

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hellospunkiebrewster · 5 years

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I have seen a couple people writing about the Desire and Decorum MC becoming romantically involved with her step-brother Edmund Marlcaster. i could be remembering things wrong but wasn't it illegal for step-siblings to become romantically involved in Regency England? Just curious and not knocking the writers who are using that pairing because they've kinda made me root for them.

So you want to f*ck your step brother… gotcha Nonnie. I’m kidding, but let’s take a look at what would have been allowed under the laws of England at the time and look at some examples in history and literature. As usual, this got long, and it’s behind the cut.

In order to properly answer this, we’ll need to go back to understand what types of marriages were allowed at the time and how that came into practice. As you might suspect this all stems from Henry VIII (the poster man-child for annulments and divorce) his quest for a male heir, and tendency to quickly tire of his wives. This pit him against Church doctrine, which was the Catholic Church at this time.

Divorced. Beheaded. Died. Divorced. Beheaded. Survived.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1A0XpB743-Q

The Catholic Church prohibited not only annulments without cause and patience like this but they also opposed the closeness by which he was related to some of his wives. Marriages of cousins were prohibited, as were marriages between siblings, uncle/neice, or aunt/nephew. In determining relation and degree of consanguinity, it did not matter if the relationship was founded in blood or through the law, via marriage. Step siblings, such as dear dumbass Edmund Marlcaster and our MC would not have been permitted to marry, despite not sharing any blood. Henry VIII’s desire to wed Catherine Howard would have been prohibited as she was Anne Boleyn’s first cousin.

These marriage rules fell under canon law (the rules of the church), not civil law (the rules of England), and thusly it was much easier for Henry to manipulate them since it only required breaking with the Pope and the Catholic Church (who were all the way in Rome so why did he care) and forming his own, of which he and every sovereign after him would be the head of, in the name of England of course. He manipulated these rules to allow for annulment of his first marriage to Catherine of Aragon, despite it not being previously allowed. Then again to allow him to marry Anne Boleyn’s first cousin. Previously, marriages of any cousins closer than fourth cousins was not allowed. Henry VIII’s Marriage Act of 1540 changed that and allowed for marriage between first through third cousins.

Bans on incestuous marriages have always been a thing and there is evidence that these types of warnings predated civilization entirely. People recognized that individuals who were closely related had children who were more prone to birth defects and deformities with a higher rate. Without modern genetics, the degree of separation required to decrease the chances of this occurring was unknown so people were extra cautious to avoid it. Evidence now suggests that the risks are relatively low. Even first cousins, unless they both share a genetic issue, only experience a slight increase in defects over non-related couples. First cousins even experience lower miscarriage rates apparently. Now this is not me advocating for cousin marriage by any means. Just the thought of my cousin Gary makes my skin crawl personally. This is merely what the science shows.

So England continued on with Bluff King Hal’s patchwork of marriage guidelines for a couple of centuries until the middle of the 18th century and the Hardwicke Marriage Act of 1753. The changing guidelines of canon law led to some confusion of what constituted a marriage and just what exactly made it official. The Church strongly suggested, but did not require, the reading of banns or acquiring a marriage license and the only real requirement was that the marriage be overseen by a clergyman. Simple? Yes. But some people actually believed that as long as parties were of age (twelve for ladies and fourteen for men) and consented between two witnesses that was enough. It was a record keeping disaster.

Witnesses were not necessarily reliable or honest, just as today. Their testimonial might be subject to their own personal agendas or bribes and people would be suddenly unmarried or even married via one person’s report. Fortunes, estates, property, livelihoods, and family names were on the line here.

The Act required that a couple must either purchase a license or have banns read during three consecutive church services, essentially one a week. This was supposed to ensure that the couple was eligible to marry. A couple under 21 years of age required consent from their parents and could be married by banns so long as the parents did not reject them being read. This doesn’t account for eloping in another parish. Lastly, weddings had to be conducted between the hours of eight in the morning and noon, before witnesses, in a church, by a clergyman, and recorded in a marriage register. Exemptions to the marriage act included the royal family, Jews, and Quakers. Catholics were not. Bitter much?

A marriage certificate from the 1860s.

Now, even though you were married, it did not keep you from outside interference upon your wedded bliss. A marriage could be voided if someone was able to present that the wedding should not have occurred in the first place due to consanguinity or other issues, like a previous still valid marriage. Participants in the marriage also had the ability to void their own marriages via a few different avenues: fraud, incompetence (and having one’s spouse committed, a route Mr. Rochester does not choose for his insane wife, thus leading to his inability to marry Jane Eyre), and impotence. Non-consummation, while a convenient plot device, was not an accepted reason for annulment. After all, what type of man can’t even gain his wife’s favor?

Now even under these new rules, step siblings, even those from previous relationships who didn’t share any blood, still were too close in degrees of consanguinity to marry. So were siblings of one’s dead spouse. This did not stop people from keeping it in the family, so to speak, and men or women marrying their deceased love’s siblings became one of the top reasons a marriage might be annulled by an outside party.

Now, there were definitely ways around this, There was no true legal body to bring your grievance to as all of this was subject to canon law and not civil law. Should the clergyman you chose to air your issue with be under the thumb of those you have a complaint with, your words might fall on deaf ears. These discrepancies were settled in an ecclesiastical court, presided over by the bishop of the parish where the couple was wed, so bias and looking the other way occurred for sure. In any case, these courts always leaned towards keeping a marriage together anyway.

There are examples of marriages that were technically voidable via close relation in Austen’s literature, one of the ones that stands out as the most similar to Edmund and our MC is Mr. Knightley and Emma Woodhouse. The two are “siblings” in the eye of the law, but they are not in themselves blood related. The two marry at the end of the story. So it wasn’t unheard of, just a difficult situation as you may find yourself in the gaze of a jealous family member or former beau who wishes to have your marriage annulled. George IV, the regent himself, married Caroline, his first cousin.

If your marriage was voided, it would mean any children would be considered bastards and ineligible for inheriting. However, the fact was, despite the threats of annulments and divorces thrown around in historical novels, they were quite difficult to obtain. Divorces required the husband bringing a civil case against his wife’s lover and for freaking Parliament to hear the case. Only 257 divorces happened in England from 1765 to 1857 as their requirements were strict, they were expensive, and both parties essentially became social pariahs.

What is interesting though is the grounds for annulment if the Duke really does wish to marry MC. I’m not talking about incompetence or even impotence, although they both probably apply to Puke Trashcan Bitchards, but fraud. There were a few types of fraud that could get a marriage annulled. Fraud might mean the couple used fake names for the reading of their banns so no one would object, this was the most common type of fraud. Rarer was the inability to fulfill the marriage contract, like not having as large of a fortune as advertised or being unable to deliver on the agreed upon dowry. Lastly, and what I think is the most interesting form of fraud for MC and Richards is forced marriage, a marriage in which one of the parties does not consent to. MC has been very adamant that she is not into this union and this was one of the places where women had agency at this time. Tristan Richards would honestly not have a leg to stand on in this case.

Long story short, marrying your stepbrother in the Regency Era was complicated, technically not allowed, but most people didn’t really care enough to fight for getting it voided. The worst Miss Sutton could do is air her grievances of Mr. Marlcaster breaking their very real (despite his and his mother’s insistence) engagement. This would be damaging enough to his reputation and potentially MC’s by proxy.

I hope this clears some things up for you, Nonnie. As always, keep these curiosities coming, I love answering them!

#desire and decorum #historical nitpicks #annulment and divorce in the regency #so you want to f*ck your step brother #curious anons #i love these!#mr marlcaster #marlcaster x mc #long post

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