alicedopey

[alicedopey]

It’s bound to happen with all that filling. You have to make a mess when you eat it.

My sister: make me a pie.

Me: what kind, bitch?

[alicedopey]

A Boston Cream Pie. I am craving it.

Excuse me now, I have to find Mr. Drysdale.

(But I really wanna try making one though)

My sister: make me a pie.

Me: what kind, bitch?

[alicedopey]

Fuck. Me.

Sebastian Stan | 97th Annual Academy Awards Nominees Dinner in Los Angeles, California | February 25, 2025

[alicedopey]

Well I can already tell I am not gonna like this Loki. He is gonna use all the leverage he has against her. Despicable. Although I am interested to see if she manages to control her temper with a boss like him.

As for the saleswoman’s attitude…can’t say I am surprised. They always judge a book by its cover. Happened to me lots of time because of my size. « We don’t have anything for you here. » « Yeah, I know thanks. » Doing my shopping on the internet from now on.

Anyways, I wonder what led her to armed robbery but my guess is fucked up family, bad choices and bad influences.

On Good Behaviour 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, threats, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: after release, you try to get on the right track but your new boss isn't much help. (ex-con reader)

Characters: Loki

Note: :)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Your sweat dampens the folder in your hands. You shift in the chair and wiggle one foot, a leg hooked over the other to keep you from jittering all over. You look up and down the hall. Men in suits and women in dresses and skirts strut by now and again, silent as they're preoccupied with their business. Just as you are with the task before you.

You don't remember being this uneasy before... well... you take a breath and steady yourself. You uncross your legs and set your feet flat. You stare at the gold plaque mounted on the door. You used the cheap Polaroid phone to confirm your arrival as noted in the email. You press the cell to the folder, gripping both tightly. You've faced worse than a man in a designer tie.

The door opens and you flinch. You stand up as a man emerges. You recognise him from the website where you found the job posting. You offer your hand. He ignores it and says your name.

"Mr. Laufeyson," you reply, checking the door plaque to be sure.

"Let's not waste any more time," he waves you inside.

You nod and step past him. You grit your teeth as you enter the office. It's small and the windows brighten the space from behind plain white curtains. There's not much to the small space; an empty desk, a short filing cabinet, and a chair. There's only one other door.

"In there, please," he directs with a point over your shoulder.

He shuts the door behind him with a snap. You wince again and keep going. You enter the dimly lit office. Only the vintage table lamp gives light to the space next to a fancy monitor, unlike the boxy ones you're used to.

He sidles past you as you stop short. He goes around the desk and drags his hand down his tie. He sits and gestures to the chair across from him. You admire the sleek pen in its gold holder and paper weight in layered jade.

"Um, oh," you come forward in your rubber-soled flats, "I have a copy of my resume. And cover letter."

"I've both," he assures as he wiggles his mouse beneath his long fingers. It's one of those smooth white ones where you can't even see the buttons.

You watch him as you wet your dry lips. He's a tall man, slender but not gawkily so, and his dark hair is long but well-kempt, tucked back behind his ears. His cheekbones are sharp, his nose aquiline, and his eyes are a bold green, giving colour to an otherwise pale face.

"I've got quite a bit here," he intones as you hug the fold, the phone slipping into your lap. "Hm, rather much..." his eyes scan the screen. He's not looked at you since he came out to get you but you don't even know that he did then.

"Sir," your eyes drift guiltily. You already know what's going on.

"Armed robbery," he slithers. "Five years."

You nod and swallow, "sir, I-- that was-- I'm out now."

"Hm, so you are," he lifts his chin.

"Mr. Laufeyson, I spent my time in prison learning. I took several courses in administration, including personal and corporate accounting--"

"Yes, I'm certain you are eager to see the numbers," he turns and his eyes meet yours. His accusation stings.

"I'm... not into that anymore. I made a mistake--"

"With a gun. And fellow mistake-makers," he insists.

You deflate and blink as your eyes fall to the front of his desk. You swallow. "You're right, sir. It was more than a mistake. A crime. Which I served time for. I'm so thankful no one was hurt but I am aware that it was dangerous and unfair to everyone involved."

"Well, you certainly are eloquent," he muses.

You scrunch up your mouth. If you were the girl that was sentenced in cuffs, you'd tell him to shove it up his ass. That girl is gone, that fire extinguished. The outside is so different now. It's like another prison where you can't do anything without permission.

"Thank you, I guess." You stand. "Thank you for your time."

"I didn't say we were done."

"You didn't, sir, but, respectfully, I don't have the time to waste. I have to report to my parole officer and find some more interviews." You sigh, "I need a job and if this isn't it, then I'd hate to waste both our time."

He snickers, "and when did I say you didn't get it?"

You lift your eyes, "you didn't..."

"Please, sit. I suppose you did come all the way here. You are... behaving. So, let us proceed at least with a few real questions," he sits back, and elbow on the armrest as he twiddles his fingers. "Not to twist the knife but you mentioned parole. Would that interfere with fulltime hours?"

"No, sir, I only need to submit the schedule," you say as you sit back down.

"Mm, sir. You took some etiquette class in prison?" He wonders.

"Not formally," you reply.

He snorts, "right then. I did review your credentials. You'll be providing mostly admin support, not much accountancy, you see that is my role. I am certified in the matter and my clients are rather important. I can't have a convict at the bank roll."

"Yes, sir, I understand."

"Mm, well," he leans his chin in his hand and taps his fingers thoughtfully. He sits up and rolls closer to the desk. "I rather abhor these interviews. I suppose we all deserve second chances."

Your lashes flick in surprise, "are you offering my the job?"

"I am," he affirms.

You push your shoulders up and can't help but smile, "I promise, you won't regret this."

"Yes, I hope not," he drones. "Go on, I've work to do. Not least of all, drawing up your employment contract."

"Sir," you stand and juggle the folder and your phone. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. There is a probationary period. I expect you on time and professional." He sniffs, "oh, and dressed to office standards."

You look down at your borrowed clothes. The blouse is plain beige, the pants heavy wool, and the shoes a bit clunky. You thought it was okay.

"My clients expect a certain level of class."

"Yes, sir."

"I will provide an advance for this purpose. I understand you might not be in a position to afford it as yet," he looks back to his screen, "it will be in the contract."

He doesn't glance at you again. You take that as a dismissal. You thank him once more and spin on your heel.

As you get to the next office, you exhale in relief. You don't know what Dina would say if you came back with another rejection. If you don't meet parole terms, you could end up right back where you started.

💼

The email comes and dispels the last of your disbelief. It's real. You have a job. It might not be the best. The work and the pay isn't what worries you, rather your boss. He reminds you of a warden himself. You were hoping to be done with those.

Dina congratulates you but not without a stern warning. Don't mess it up. She looks over the contract with you, commenting positively on the advance. She suggests that some employers are sympathetic to people like you.

You take the money and head out to buy work clothes. You're uncertain at first. You don't think the thrift shop or Walmart fits the bill. He sure wrote a big check. After cashing the check, you bring up google maps and wait at the bus stop.

As another person comes to the shelter, you move away from it. Now that you're out, you get claustrophobic a lot easier, yet dizzy at how open everything is. You're still getting used to this all. Especially the idea that you're only responsible for yourself.

You hop on when the bus rolls up and transfer to the next. You get off and find yourself before a boutique. A woman struts out and you shy away. You see your reflection in the window and sigh.

Mr. Laufeyson didn't hire you to look like those women. You just have to get some nice clothes. You enter and give a sheepish smile as a woman perks up behind the counter. Reticence shades her expression, then disapproval. She stomps out in her heels.

"Is there something I can help you with?"

"Uh, sure, yeah," you look down at your feet and back at her again. Prison was easy compared to this. You could steel yourself against the guards, even Millie when she tried to steal your brownie, but this makes you feel small. "I just got a job and I need some clothes. I could really use some help."

Honesty seems the best tactic. It was the lack of which got you into all of this. That and your own bad decisions. Your selfishness. If that gun hadn't jammed.

"Work? Well, that's nice. A new job," her eyes flutter, her voice brittle. "I suppose we have what you're looking for. What kind of work?"

"Admin," you answer and clutch the strap of your satchel. "It's uptown, so..."

"Ah, I see. Executive Assistant?"

"Not quite," you answer. "I'm not... I'm not really... into fashion."

For five years, you wore a uniform. All these wraps and frills and slits are confusing. She guides you toward the wall where a rack of blouses hangs in white to just slightly beige. You look at her, she looks good, her clothes are stylish, you'll have to trust her on this.

"So, what kind of admin?" She asks.

"Accounting," you answer.

"Mm, stuffy," she chuckles. "Well, let's see. White. Always need a white blouse. A black pair of pants, and a skirt too, then you can build from there." She pauses and glances at you, "we don't have sales in here."

You don't take it personally.

"I have money," you assure her and take out your debit card.

"Hm, well, these are very expensive pieces. You might find a department store at the mall?"

"I came all the way here," you counter, bristling. If this was inside, you wouldn't back down, so you won't now. "I need clothes, you sell clothes."

"Alright, sure, hun," she grins sardonically

"Thanks, hun," you shoot back.

She turns and selects a grey satin skirt. It's pretty enough. You cross your arms as annoyance ticks in your cheek. You try to remember the exercises they gave you in the release program. Count and breathe. It's not worth it to get mad.

"If you see anything, feel free to let me know," she trills.

"Is there anything, I don't know, some patterns?" You ask.

"Ah, I didn't see you in polka dots," she intones.

"This is nice," you touch the brown plaid blazer.

"Oh, very... chic," she comments dryly. You're not liking her attitude. Heat gathers under your collar as you trail her. "Are we trying these on?"

"You don't think I'll pop the tags off and run for it?" You snip. "I'll just pay."

"Exchange only."

"Whatever," you huff.

You go to the counter and tap your card on top. She comes up behind it and gently folds each piece. Three blouses, the blazer, two skirts, and two pants. It will do. 

"I hate to ask anything else of you but do you know where I can get a nice bag?" You take the debit machine and insert your card.

"Oh, sure, there's the shop across the street. Make sure to leave your bags at the front."

You shake your head and put away your card. You accept the two shopping bags and receipt. You thank her despite her attitude. If she only knew what that would get her inside. You almost want to give it to her.

Calm. Be calm. You're not her anymore. You're changing. Beating up a shop clerk won't help you keep this job.

You leave and cross the street. You get much the same reaction as before. You pick out a brown leather bag with a gold emblem and two pairs of heels you think you can handle. You leave, defeated but not without your prize.

You walk back to the stop and sit on the bench. You stare off into traffic as you wait. You'll have to get used to it. You sort of are. Lots of inmates stared you down and you learned not to show any fear. Not if you wanted to survive.

[alicedopey]

Ah least, it would explain why she needs help.

Possibly first Jack O'Malley story in the excon AU?

Your husband (?) is in prison and growing increasingly worried as you report some strange men casing the house. He has a buddy (Jack) getting out who has agreed to move in until he's out himself to deal with the rabble...

[alicedopey]

Oh my gosh…who in their right mind would send Jack to their wife ? Totally no trustworthy😅 I am curious to find out what you will make of him though….

Possibly first Jack O'Malley story in the excon AU?

Your husband (?) is in prison and growing increasingly worried as you report some strange men casing the house. He has a buddy (Jack) getting out who has agreed to move in until he's out himself to deal with the rabble...

[alicedopey]

Oh it was scary for sure because what Ransom can do when he is mad. I hope he won’t though 🤣🤣

But anyways you are the writer so you do what your muse tells you to do ☺️

Pity

I just gotta get this scene out of my head because it keeps bugging me but then never goes anywhere! May or may not be related to a Trick or Treat I wrote.

Arranged Marriage AU

Warnings: Size shaming. Please let me know if I missed any.

You hated these parties. Having to play dress up for the sake of your parents' reputation and status. Really it just opened you up to the barbs and snipes of everyone else in the upper echelons.

Rumor had it the Drysdales were looking for a good match for their son. You pitied the poor girl who got that roped into that. The Drysdales were notoriously difficult to live with, royalty or not. You know you don't stand a chance of catching the Ransom's eye, or his mother's.

But maybe you can get a good match with one of the other rich, eligible bachelors. Goodness knows Fowler has an appreciation for girls of your...figure. If you were truly desperate you could try for Hansen, though every time he's hit on you before left a bad taste in your mouth.

Before you can walk towards some of the potential matches you're broken out of your thoughts by a tittering of ladies hanging around Ransom Drysdale.

He saunters up to you, "I can't say I'm surprised to see you're still single. What surprises me is that they managed to find a designer who could make a dress that...fits you so well." The girls around him laugh at his cruel joke.

"I pity you," you shake your head.

Ransom stops laughing, "what was that?"

"I pity you," you repeat with a shrug. You're certain his glare would wither anyone else but he greatly overestimates the effect of his words. "You have so much power, money, and privilege. You're obviously very handsome. And yet, you still need to put others down to make yourself feel better. I pity you."

His face turns beet red and the ladies around him take a small step back. He turns around and storms off making the ladies glare at you for cutting their opportunity short.

You shrug your shoulders. He insulted you, you responded. It's not your fault he's a baby who can only dish out the insults and not take them. You kinda pity them, too.

Imagine your surprise, a week later, when you're invited to the Drysdale Manor.

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @kmc1989; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

[alicedopey]

Oh no no I did not say dark. I said angst 😅 I don’t want dark Ransom, he is scaring me. We underestimate him in my opinion, let’s not forget he had a perfect plan until a maid ruined it. He is very dangerous.

Pity

I just gotta get this scene out of my head because it keeps bugging me but then never goes anywhere! May or may not be related to a Trick or Treat I wrote.

Arranged Marriage AU

Warnings: Size shaming. Please let me know if I missed any.

You hated these parties. Having to play dress up for the sake of your parents' reputation and status. Really it just opened you up to the barbs and snipes of everyone else in the upper echelons.

Rumor had it the Drysdales were looking for a good match for their son. You pitied the poor girl who got that roped into that. The Drysdales were notoriously difficult to live with, royalty or not. You know you don't stand a chance of catching the Ransom's eye, or his mother's.

But maybe you can get a good match with one of the other rich, eligible bachelors. Goodness knows Fowler has an appreciation for girls of your...figure. If you were truly desperate you could try for Hansen, though every time he's hit on you before left a bad taste in your mouth.

Before you can walk towards some of the potential matches you're broken out of your thoughts by a tittering of ladies hanging around Ransom Drysdale.

He saunters up to you, "I can't say I'm surprised to see you're still single. What surprises me is that they managed to find a designer who could make a dress that...fits you so well." The girls around him laugh at his cruel joke.

"I pity you," you shake your head.

Ransom stops laughing, "what was that?"

"I pity you," you repeat with a shrug. You're certain his glare would wither anyone else but he greatly overestimates the effect of his words. "You have so much power, money, and privilege. You're obviously very handsome. And yet, you still need to put others down to make yourself feel better. I pity you."

His face turns beet red and the ladies around him take a small step back. He turns around and storms off making the ladies glare at you for cutting their opportunity short.

You shrug your shoulders. He insulted you, you responded. It's not your fault he's a baby who can only dish out the insults and not take them. You kinda pity them, too.

Imagine your surprise, a week later, when you're invited to the Drysdale Manor.

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @kmc1989; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

[alicedopey]

It’s interesting and so…scary. Ransom could take revenge on her in the pettiest possible ways. Even if he is secretly impressed by the fact that she talked back, she humiliated him in public. He needs to put her in her place (and beneath him under the sheets) to remind her who is in charge.

I think he might be ashamed by the fact that he is attracted to her too. He knows his mother won’t allow him to have a plus size wife so he’d better throw them away as best as he can.

I see this is tagged arranged marriage so she might have been chosen after all but maybe not by Linda. Or Ransom wants to have fun and pretend she is a match…to reject her in public. Oh the angst it would trigger. Wonderful. But he might fight against himself in this one. Because he wants her. Of all the Chris Evans characters, I believe he could canonically be the one attracted to plus size women even if he doesn’t want to. They are soft, pillowy, comfy, and we all know Ransom desperately needs some comfort and softness in his life.

I am invested (as you can see 😅)

Pity

I just gotta get this scene out of my head because it keeps bugging me but then never goes anywhere! May or may not be related to a Trick or Treat I wrote.

Arranged Marriage AU

Warnings: Size shaming. Please let me know if I missed any.

You hated these parties. Having to play dress up for the sake of your parents' reputation and status. Really it just opened you up to the barbs and snipes of everyone else in the upper echelons.

Rumor had it the Drysdales were looking for a good match for their son. You pitied the poor girl who got that roped into that. The Drysdales were notoriously difficult to live with, royalty or not. You know you don't stand a chance of catching the Ransom's eye, or his mother's.

But maybe you can get a good match with one of the other rich, eligible bachelors. Goodness knows Fowler has an appreciation for girls of your...figure. If you were truly desperate you could try for Hansen, though every time he's hit on you before left a bad taste in your mouth.

Before you can walk towards some of the potential matches you're broken out of your thoughts by a tittering of ladies hanging around Ransom Drysdale.

He saunters up to you, "I can't say I'm surprised to see you're still single. What surprises me is that they managed to find a designer who could make a dress that...fits you so well." The girls around him laugh at his cruel joke.

"I pity you," you shake your head.

Ransom stops laughing, "what was that?"

"I pity you," you repeat with a shrug. You're certain his glare would wither anyone else but he greatly overestimates the effect of his words. "You have so much power, money, and privilege. You're obviously very handsome. And yet, you still need to put others down to make yourself feel better. I pity you."

His face turns beet red and the ladies around him take a small step back. He turns around and storms off making the ladies glare at you for cutting their opportunity short.

You shrug your shoulders. He insulted you, you responded. It's not your fault he's a baby who can only dish out the insults and not take them. You kinda pity them, too.

Imagine your surprise, a week later, when you're invited to the Drysdale Manor.

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @kmc1989; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

[alicedopey]

Old Scars, New Blood Masterlist

Summary: Reader has accepted that she’ll never be wanted, not only by the man she’s crushed on for years, but by anyone. That is until a new player enters the game. (f!, short!reader)

Status: In Progress

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

[alicedopey]

"Ao3 should allow multiple kudos" "I want to be able to leave more than one kudos"

COMMENT ON THE FUCKING FIC

I SWEAR TO GOD NO ONE COMMENTS MUCH NOW WHEN THE ONLY WAY TO SHOW APPRECIATION FOR A SINGLE CHAPTER IS COMMENTING AND I AM NOT HAVING THIS BULLSHIT BE LIKE TIKTOK WHERE NO ONE EVER COMMENTS POSITIVITY

FOR FUCKS SAKE JUST COMMENT ON THE FUCKING FIC YOU DON'T NEED A MULTIPLE KUDOS BUTTON YOU NEED ACTUAL WORDS

TRUST ME ON ANY WEBSITE OR APP I POST COMMENTS AND WORDS ARE 10X BETTER THAN ANY PLAIN LIKE AND WORDLESS REBLOG IF YOU LIKE SOMETHING LEAVE WORDS

COMMENT

ON

THE

FUCKING

FICS

[alicedopey]

Precisely. So lost and fighting against his heart. Perfect 👌

Need help deciding next week's Tech Tuesday chapter:

[alicedopey]

I know but it’s gonna be so funny and cute ☺️

Need help deciding next week's Tech Tuesday chapter:

[alicedopey]

I am ! I am ! Let’s give Lloyd some emotional growth.

Need help deciding next week's Tech Tuesday chapter:

[alicedopey]

Oh Harald is gonna love the cuddles so she’d better be soft and squishy. ☺️

No one said ex con Curtis and I'm

[alicedopey]

Curtis is the too obvious choice. The ex-member of a gang who did this to survive. Was betrayed by a bitch so now he doesn’t trust any woman. Until someone catches his eye…

But we all know who make the perfect ex-cons. VIKINGS.

Rollo is the only one who was convicted to protect his brother but now that he is out, he is full of resentment. Especially because no one came go visit him or reached out. His parole officer tries to help him as much as she can but Rollo never sees what is just under his eyes, too busy to want someone he can’t get. Until she asks for someone else to take care of him…

Harald is out, humiliated again because he was back stabbed by one of his men. He tries to step up, build another « gang » and he definitely needs a queen. Maybe this sweet neighbor who tried to be welcoming unlike the rest of the neighborhood because she believes he really wants to rehabilitate himself. Or maybe because she is lonely….

No one said ex con Curtis and I'm

[alicedopey]

Something was…off there. He was the perfect gentleman as usual but he was no real help. A shield for sure but not necessarily bulletproof. The sisters are getting jealous (at least the older ones ) and she is the only one who is gonna suffer from it. I think what upsets me the most is that he did not even sense something was wrong in the way they talked to her or acted towards her. The only one bothering him was Marshall and there was nothing more to read in what he said 🙄 They kept throwing shade at her and Jonathan thought it was nice ?! Really ?! He was so focused on getting to fuck her once the evening was done that he could not see past his dick.

It breaks my heart for my sweet Fawn because she has never felt worthy of anything or anyone, her family has always made her feel that way, Colin made her feel that way and soon enough, Jonathan will do the same. He is always commenting on what she does, on how she stands…something will always be wrong. Your charm is wearing off, Mr. Pine. Really.

I am like @thezombieprostitute I guess the wedding is gonna be a disaster and she will be blamed again of course. Colin might crash it or his band will get hired (what dumbass would hire them, honestly ? 🤣but anyways…) He might tempt something, succeed at something…or not. I don’t know 🤷‍♀️ Jonathan might play the savior card again but blame Fawn afterwards. Anything is possible and I am terrified.

Anyways, thanks for updating that one !

Crushed 21

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, manipulation, cheating, sleazy behaviour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your next door neighbours hook up, bringing to surface deep-seated feelings.

Characters: Colin Shea, Jonathan Pine

Note: Surprise.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like my dog loves belly rubs (that’s a lot). Take care. 💖

You’re late. Despite all your warnings and effort, you’re late. Your mother is going to kill you. 

As you get out of the car, your thighs brush together and you quiver. He left a bite mark right along the meat of your leg. His ravenous energy swept you entirely off your feet. You think he shifted a few pins in your hair even. 

He’s unbothered. As calm as her ever is. Well, your mother’s wrath won’t be aimed at him. 

He comes around and you latch onto his proffered arm for strength. He walks you toward the hall and your heels tap loudly. The noise addles you’re already swirling nerves. 

You enter through the heavy double doors. You hear a buzzy beyond the sign that denotes your family’s party with an arrow. Jonathan keeps your steps even. You shrink down as you approach the archway. 

“Darling, do stand tall,” he bids as he smooths his jacket with his free hand. 

You push your shoulder back and glance at him. He’s so handsome and perfect. His blonde hair is combed back so effortlessly and its as if his features were crafted so that he could never look anything but certain. More than ever, you feel out of place. 

As you enter,  you look around. Your mother finds you first as she accosts you by your other arm. She hisses at you. 

“You’re late,” she sneers. “How lucky you are that the catering is too or you’d have awful timing.” 

“Mom,” you flinch and look at her. 

“Oh, Eugenia, please forgive me and do not hold it against your daughter. It’s quite my fault. I should have pressed my suit yesterday,” he speaks over you before you can muster an apology. “How utterly inconsiderate of me.” 

She winces and looks at him. Her expression brightens and she smiles, “oh, Jonathan, I’m so happy you could make it. Ah, and you look so dashing. What a suit that is.” 

“Me? You’re daughter is glowing, I wilt in her shine,” he banters. Your mother’s eyes dart over sharply and her brows arch. “And I’ve saved my best suit for the day of.” 

“Oh,  yes, I’m certain you will be entirely charming, as always,” she as good as ignores you as she steps around you and clasps his other arm. “Let me introduce you to the rest them.” 

“Yes, let us get it over with before I fall to shambles,” he chuckles. 

You let your arm slacken but he does not let you slip away. He merely shifts and instead brings his hand to the small of your back. You walk along with him, gripping your clutch tighter and tighter. 

Geri turns and spots your mother. She waves but falters in her ivory sheath dress. She tweaks her head as she steps past your other sisters, away from her groom. 

“Mom,” she crosses toward you. “There you are, we were just about to get everyone seated. Who’s this?” She looks at Jonathan then flinches as her eyes fall on you, “oh!” Her eyes round, “I hardly recognised you. You brought a date.” 

“Geri,” you give a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah, uh, this is Jonathan.” 

She preens up at him and offers her hand, “Jonathan, it’s so nice to meet you. I’ve heard nothing about you.” 

“Yes, well, it has been a rather whirlwind romance,” he unsnakes his arm from your mother’s and shakes Geri’s hand. “I’m honoured to be invited. You look wonderful. A blushing bride.” 

She giggles, “oh, English? That’s quite the accent.” 

“Ha, I suppose.” He lets her go and slips his hand around your hip, drawing you closer. 

“You know, I almost did a destination wedding. I looked at a few places over there. Some castles.” 

“Castles? Yes, many do think those are rather amusing, don’t they?” 

Your sister twitches. The way he says it is almost patronizing. As if he were speaking to a child, yet his accent makes it hard to be sure. 

“Well, we are so happy to have you here. Nice of her to finally find a date,” she snickers. “So good to see you, sis.”  

She squeezes your shoulder and flutters away. You blink after her and your mother sighs and claps her hands. “There are three more!” She turns and marches forward, “Vicky, come,” she beckons to your oldest sister. She is swollen and waddling. “This is Jonathan,” she introduces as Vicky leans on her husband, Marshall. 

“A pleasure,” Jonathan shakes both their hands, “should you not sit?” 

Vicky chuckles, “oh no, I can manage,” she rubs her stomach. “I’m fine.” 

“I didn’t know you had a man,” Marshall comments. 

You shrug and Jonathan’s fingers curl deeper into your hip. 

“Good things come to those who wait,” Jonathan rebuffs. 

“And my other girls,” your mother ushers you onward. “Charmaine, Sienna,” she beckons them closer, “these are my youngest, “both in school still.” 

“Ah, you’ve quite the brood. No sons?” Jonathan muses. 

“Oh, it isn’t for lack of trying,” she chirps. You make a face. “It helps that we started early, like Vicky.” 

“Well, I’m certain we’ll make a go of it,” Jonathan laughs. You gulp and look at him sharply. The insinuation is chilling. Kids? You only just started dating? That’s what it is, right? You assure yourself he’s only putting on a front. 

“Yes, well, as you said, good things come to those who wait,” your mother hums. “Forgive me, I must help. We’re about to begin.” 

She clops away in her heels and you chew the inside of your lip. Well, that wasn’t a whole disaster. Jonathan was the perfect shield against the onslaught, if not a bit much. Sienna nudges you, “you’re sitting with us.” 

You follow your sisters to a table. Jonathan pulls out your chair. Vicky sits and watches you do the same, Marshall already in his seat. Her eyes narrow. You thank your escort and he sits beside you, shifting his chair closer. 

“Darling,” he leans in, “I must remind you for it strikes me every time I look, but you are beautiful.” 

“Jonathan,” your murmur. 

“It is the truth,” he brings his lips close to your ear and softens to a whisper, “especially in your afterglow.” 

The allusion to your prior activities makes you squirm. He puts a kiss on your cheek and hums. You smile and pat his knee. 

“You are too much,” you keep your voice low. “Please, it’s my sister’s dinner.” 

“And yet all I see is you,” he continues. Your younger sisters giggle and peek over at you. “I wonder if we might sneak off during the speeches and find somewhere.... private.” 

You blanch and grab his hand as he rests it on your leg. You smile and turn to him, “let’s wait until we get home.” 

His blue eyes search your face and he grins, “home?” He echoes. “Yes, for you, I would wait.” 

💗

As you come out of the hall, you yawn. You take out your phone and the shine makes you wince. It’s dark as the moon shimmers through streaky clouds. You trip as your heel catches a crack in the lot. 

“Darling, you should really look where you’re going and not at your phone,” Jonathan girds, “besides, the light is not good for your eyes in the dark.” 

“Sorry, I just...” you trail off as your phone vibes. It’s your mom. Already. 

‘You better not be late for the wedding!’ You sigh. It’s your fault always your fault. 

You reply with a thumbs up and reach for the car door. It opens before you can grab the handle. Jonathan exhales as he holds it for you. You sit in the passenger seat and thank him. 

He shuts it without a word. Your phone buzzes again. You’re surprised that for how long you didn’t have it, you got almost no calls or text. Your mom, once more; ‘Jonathan is lovely. Try not to ruin it’. 

You frown as Jonathan gets into the driver’s seat. He buckles up his seat belt and reminds you to the same. You rest the cell in your lap as you click in into place. You pick up your phone as it buzzes a third time. 

It’s Geri. She’s resent her invitation, a passive aggressive reminder of when you need to be at the church. Yes, you get it. You were late. You huff. 

“Darling, you shouldn’t spend so much time on that if it makes you unhappy,” Jonathan chides. 

“It’s just my family--” 

“The light will make it hard to drive,” he interjects and snatches it from your hand. He taps the side button and puts it in the cup holder. “The blue light will also affect your sleep so late.” 

You look down at your empty hands and frown. You don’t mention his late night calls to his parents, there must be blue light in the tablet. You don’t because you wouldn’t. You clasp your hands together. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t meaning--” 

“I do hate to see your upset,” he twists the key in the ignition. “You know that and I would not have you moping over that device anon.” 

“I know, I wasn’t, erm, moping.” 

“You should relax,” he pulls out of the spot. “Things are going well, are they not? Your family was rather pleasant.” 

Yeah, to you. 

You don’t voice your chagrin out loud. It isn’t fair. Jonathan has been so supportive and you just bring everything down. After all, you’re not a victim, all this is your own fault. 

“I think I should fit right in,” he continues, “don’t you?” 

“Oh, Jonathan,” you begin, “sure, but... it’s a bit early, isn’t it?” 

“Early? Well, I’m certainly doey-eyed for you, fawn, but it isn’t so bad. I would say it’s worth the risk,” he affirms. 

You feel worse for his declaration. Guilty because you’re still a mess. Your heart aches for another even as he plucks at it. You wish it would stop. You wish you didn’t care about Colin anymore. You wish your brain was in your chest instead of this useless thing. 

“Do you not... feel the same?” He asks sheepishly. 

“Jonathan, of course I like you. I... you’re so wonderful to me and this is... amazing,” you fidget. “It’s late, I’m sorry, I’m a bit burnt out from all that.” 

He drones a disappointed tone, “yes it was rather long.” 

“It was,” you agree and stare out the window. You don’t want to let him down. Not like everyone else. 

“Well, when we get in, how about...” he slithers, “you take your shoes off, take your hair down, wash off your make up...” he steers between the streetlights, “then I’ll help you out of your dress. You can lay down and I’ll help you relax.” 

You sit in silence, shifting at the heat that sparks in your core. 

“I’ll start with your shoulders, you care a lot there, then your back... feel all the perfection beneath my fingertips,” he clears his throat and shudders out his breath, “then your hips, those precious curves, and that bottom...” 

“Jonathan,” you squeak. 

“And your thighs, I shall need to work those well. The calves and ankles, so delicate, and your feet. Those shoes must be untenable,” he purrs. “And when you are putty, I will turn you over and bow to you as a proper gentleman. As I did before our departure--” 

“Stop,” you wisp and squirm. 

“Darling,” he growls, “I can hardly wait.” 

He startles you as he reaches across the car. The light limns his sleeve as he tugs at your skirt. You wriggle and clasp onto his wrist. 

“Jonathan, the car--” 

“I can manage,” he tuts and shakes off your grasp. He dips his hand beneath the hem of the skirt and tickles along your thigh. The fabric rumples around his arm. “Mmm,” he flutters his fingers just beneath your pelvis, “I can feel your warmth already.” 

He presses his fingertips against your panties. You twitch and yelp in surprise. He rubs against the lace, the friction heating up instantaneously. You quiver and murmur as he pushes down on your clit, rolling it beneath his touch. He purrs and you can’t help but echo him. 

You soak through your panties and he clucks, “fawn, you are wet.” 

You squeal and latch onto the door as you writhe, legs splayed. “I... I know.” 

“Naughty minx,” he keeps his fingers moving, slowly, steadily. Enough to tease but not enough to take you over the edge. “You will not cum until we get home.” 

“Huh?” You choke and reach over to grab his shoulder, your stomach clenching as you crush his hand between your thighs. 

“You heard me. You will not cum. Not until I say so.” He wiggles his fingers and you puff out weakly. “Or you will be thoroughly punished.” 

You close your eyes and moan, slapping your hand against the window as you tremble. 

“Say, ‘yes, Mr. Pine’, so I know you understand,” his voice is rigid as steel. It makes you whine again. 

“Yes, Mr. Pine,” you gasp.