#Backyard Wedding Dance Floor

[arentalconnection]

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[violentdelightsandviolentends]

The Look of Love.

Synopsis - You, Buck and Eddie are absolutely, undeniably, head over heels in love with each other. It seems like everyone can see it except for the three of you.

Pairing - Evan Buckley x Female Reader x Eddie Diaz

Warnings - none!! just idiots in love.

Word Count - 1k

Author's Note - oh my buddie heart was bursting while writing this. whenever I watch 911, I always think about how easy it'd be to be friends (or more than) with eddie and buck. and then this was born!! hope you enjoy reading this sweetness as much as I enjoyed writing it <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

Buck twirls you around, strong arms circling your waist. Your feet don't touch the ground as he spins you, the skirt of your dress billowing in the breeze. You lean back in his hold, and catch sight of Eddie throwing Christopher up in the air, both of them laughing.

Buck puts you down and grins at you, Cheshire cat smile bright and blinding. You smooth your hands across his chest, flattening out his crisp white dress shirt where you've crinkled it. You tug at his bow tie, straightening it gently. Your gaze meets his, and you beam at him.

"Have I told you how handsome you look tonight, Evan Buckley?" you tease, wrapping your arms around his neck to sway with him. There's a smooth, jazzy melody echoing through the huge backyard, illuminated by golden, twinkling lights.

He quirks a brow at you cheekily before answering.

"I wouldn't mind hearing it again."

"I'm sure you wouldn't," you laugh, shrieking as he dips you backwards quickly.

"Well, you look very handsome. I like you in a tux."

You swear you see him blush slightly, heat creeping across his cheeks. He finds his confidence again, sliding his hands across the exposed skin of your back slowly.

"You are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen," he tells you sincerely, eyes never leaving yours. "I should tell you that more often."

"Yes, you should," you tease, grinning at him.

You take notice of his smile, his relaxed shoulders, the way he's swaying with you effortlessly.

"You love weddings, don't you?"

"Hell yeah I do!" he replies delightedly. "Everyone I love all in one place, dancing, music... what more could you want?"

You can't wipe the smile off your face. He's right. The entire 118 is here, together as a family. Everyone is happy, excited to be celebrating Bobby and Athena's vow renewal. It's not often you all get to leave work at work and enjoy yourselves completely. You plan to make the most of every single second.

You feel two warm hands find your hips from behind, instantly leaning back into the broad chest behind you, knowing who it is immediately.

"Hola, Mr Diaz."

"Hola, hermosa."

"You gonna keep her all to yourself all night, Buckley?" he asks, wrapping his arms around you, over the top of where Bucks are already resting. You're sandwiched between the two of them, completely content.

"We were avoiding you and your terrible dance moves," Buck jokes, the three of you swaying together now.

"Are you hearing this?" Eddie asks incredulously, chuckling into your ear. "My terrible dance moves?"

"Don't listen to him, Eds. His ego lies to him."

"It's called confidence! Sorry if I have faith in my dance moves!"

The three of you laugh, bodies and souls tangled and intertwined on the dance floor.

Across the backyard, Chimney and Hen are sat at their table, watching you, Buck and Eddie move to the music, arms wrapped around one another.

"They really love each other, don't they?"

"Oh, yeah," Hen laughs. "Wish they'd all just admit it."

Chimney looks at his best friend in confusion, brows quirked and face crumpled.

"... What?"

"Oh, come on, Chim," Hen chuckles. "It's twenty twenty three. Get with the program."

"You mean, like, love love," Chim confirms, still puzzled.

"Yes, Howie. Love love. In love. The three of them are completely in love."

Chimney processes for a moment, before a light bulb goes off in his head.

"Oh, shit!" he laughs. "They totally are!"

"Damn, men are oblivious. How am I the only one that's noticed?"

"You aren't," Bobby and Athena say in unison, pulling out chairs to sit at the table.

"But we can't rush them. Good things like this take time," Athena offers.

Bobby glances over at the dance floor. You're holding Buck and Eddie's hands, and Chris is too, the four of you dancing and laughing. He smiles for moment, before speaking.

"You know they basically live together?"

When he's met with confused faces, he continues.

"They all crash at Eddie's place with Christopher so often, they've practically moved in. Buck hasn't slept in his own apartment in months."

"I mean, how do you even... navigate something like that? The three of them? It's so complicated," Chimney asks genuinely.

"They'll figure it out," Bobby assures. "They always do."

With that, he rises from his chair and across the yard. He scoops Christopher up into his arms, promising him cake and soda, much to Eddie's dismay. He winks at Buck before carrying Chris away, leaving the three of you alone.

Eddie surprises you by grabbing your hand and then Bucks, pulling you both away from the crowd.

"Come on. I wanna show you something."

He leads you up and into the guest bathroom of the house, rolling his eyes at you and Bucks suggestive comments. He's first to climb out the window and onto the roof, making sure you get through safely in your dress.

The three of you sit and watch your friends in the yard below, quietly reflecting. You're suddenly aware of the way you're sandwiched in between them again, thighs pressed together. You lean left and rest your head on Eddie's shoulder, interlinking your right hand with Bucks.

"How lucky am I?" you breathe. "To be surrounded by so much love."

Eddie rests his head atop of yours, smiling as he watches Buck lean in to rest his on your shoulder. The three of you exhale.

"We're the lucky ones," Buck murmurs. "I never thought I'd have this."

"Well you do," Eddie reassures. "And we're not going anywhere, Buckley."

"He's right, Buck. We're not going anywhere. Ever."

Evan sits up to kiss you on the cheek, before leaning over you and doing the same to Eddie.

The three of you sit on the roof, bodies and souls intertwined, illuminated by the moonlight. How lucky you are, to be surrounded by so much love.

[tinytennisskirt]

The Motions

Summary: Reader and Art go through the motions of love, a wedding, the honeymoon, and pregnancy.

Warnings: smut! AU where Tashi doesn’t exist, tipsy sex, unprotected sex, oral f!receiving, mentions of calories and weight gain, pregnancy, mentions of pregnant sex.

You were picking berries in Art’s grandma’s garden, putting them in his grandma’s basket lined with a pink checkered cloth that she held in her wrinkled hands. You were talking about something out of earshot, but he could hear his grandma’s laughter ring out through the backyard, hearty and loud. You were smiling, the evening sun hitting you just right. Art watched from the gazebo by the pool, his mom who took care of the house talking to him about something he wasn’t hearing.

He loved seeing his grandma come back to visit her home from the retirement home, but he loved seeing you make her laugh even more. Art leaned onto his hand, mouth just a little open watching you cheers over a blackberry and eat it the same time as his grandma. He knew it then, he loved you so much, he knew he had to marry you.

And he did a year later. Married at twenty-five. A young couple, married in his grandma’s garden with only friends and family around. You looked perfect, like an angel in white. Art would never forget how much he smiled that day, his cheeks hurting.

The after party was perfect as well. String lights over the walls, delicious food, and good music. You in a smaller white dress that enabled you to dance with him all night long. Bell sleeves you insisted on because of some Anne Hathaway musical that you were obsessed with. You only ever stopped to thank family for coming and giggle about the wedding with your best friend. Art took some time to talk to Patrick, but no matter what anyone, even Patrick said to him, his eyes were glued on his perfect new bride.

You looked at him from where you were and waved, holding up your ring finger and blowing him a kiss off of it. He loved you more than anything.

A few more drinks from the open bar that had been set up by the shed in the garden and you and Art were laughing, pictures being snapped every now and then. You danced with Art’s grandmother before she headed back to the retirement home, pretending like you hadn’t had too many margaritas and Art enjoyed the attempt, surprised at how well it went.

You said goodbyes to your guests and soon it was just you, Art, Patrick and your best friend and maid of honour. You enjoyed what was left of the bottled wine and talked, but as soon as they left, Art had you against the wall.

You had the house to yourself, you’d leave for your honeymoon tomorrow evening and you two stumbled drunk on love and wine into the house, your back against the wall, the pictures falling off the wall- thank god there was no glass in the frame.

Kissing passionately, his hands all over your body, your arms around his neck, hands in his hair. He cradled your head as you both rolled against the wall, trying to make it to the bed but it was so useless. The table against the wall in the hallway was going to have to do. Art shoved the tennis trophy off of it along with the basket of keys and the small crocheted flower pots his grandma collected. He picked you up and set you down on the surface and in seconds you were kissing again, his hands reaching around the back to unzip the dress but when it wouldn’t come down, other measures had to be taken.

You and Art both hiked your dress up, him desperately kissing down your neck, one hand sliding down over your waist to rest on your now-bare hip. It was the other hand that pulled down the white lingerie you wore under the dress, something meant to be seen in better lighting, on a better surface, but was now on the floor.

Perfect warm kisses down your collarbone, up your neck, behind your ear as your hands fumbled with pulling off his tie, unbuttoning the top of his white dress shirt, moaning quietly as he used his teeth on your earlobe. You gave up on the buttons halfway and started on the button of his dress pants, undoing them, undoing the zipper. He gripped your hip with the tips of his fingers, sliding his hands over the smooth skin of your thigh, reaching down between them, pushing fingers into you as you moaned into his ear. Your legs wrapped around him in his boxers as he pumped his fingers in and out at the pace he knew you loved.

You moaned out loudly into the empty of the house and it set his body on fire. Neither of you could take it, you tugged on the rim of his boxers and he obliged, taking them off in seconds, stepping out and away and coming to reconnect with your lips hungrily, perfectly, fingers continuing to fuck you just right. You needed him more than anything.

“Art, please,” you mumbled against his lips.

“Mhm?” He grinned, lifting you just slightly to reposition you. Your hand fell to his dick, gripping it and slowly moving your hand up and down. He groaned audibly and it fuelled your own flame. His fingers left you and gripped your hips again as he pulled you to the edge of the table, the perfect height to push himself into you. You both moaned loudly, feeling him fill you. “Fuck, I love you.” He groaned, the thousandth ‘I love you’ of the night, but the sexiest. You grinned as he began to thrust him and out, breathing hard and gripping his hair.

“I love-mmm- I love you too,” you hummed, tossing your head back as he fucked you as you sat on the table, your legs wrapping around his waist. He took the time to kiss your neck again, your collarbone, biting your ear again. “Fuck!” You moaned out.

Art only fucked you harder with every moan, fuelling him, keeping him going. That and all the love- so much love. It wasn’t even your honeymoon yet.

He finished and you both were left sweating by this table in the hallway. You wrapped your arms around his neck, foreheads resting against each other’s. You shared a smile and Art grinned his signature grin, kissing your nose. You cupped his face, kissing him gently on the lips.

You slept like babies that night.

When you got off the plane in Dominican Republic, you raised your hands over your head and kissed Art hard on the lips. He loved seeing you excited. You practically told every stranger who spoke to you that you were on your honeymoon, showing off the wedding ring that was of course, a travel dupe, but just as beautiful. Your real rings were at home on the kitchen table.

The house you rented was beautiful, by the water, full of sun, and very private.

“This is perfect,” you sighed happily, flopping down on the large patio couch that was just outside on the deck under the shade of an umbrellas.

“Not as perfect-“ he sat next to you, “-as my wife.” He grinned. You sat up just to kiss him.

“That was cheesy,” you told him. “But I love it. And you.” You kissed him again. You headed into town that day, a grocery trip. The locals were lovely and very nice. There were vendors selling fruits, vegetables, kids playing at the playground.

You and Art bought yourselves some fruit and sat on a bench at the park, sharing it bite for bite. You watched the children play, smiling as they ran in circles around tree trunks. Art watched your expression as a woman with a baby in a wrap passed you both, the baby the cutest you both had ever seen. Chubby-cheeked, small fingers, curious eyes that looked over you both as the baby passed. Art noted how your hand subconsciously drifted to place itself flat over your stomach. He was feeling it too, if he was honest. Something about being married, something about you looking so empty in your tank top and skirt.

“Cute baby,” you said, snapping back to reality when you realized Art was watching you with a smile.

You smiled back and Art twisted his mouth to the side, knowingly. “Cute baby?” He teased.

“Something about being married, I don’t knowww,” you said sheepishly. It was exactly what he was thinking… He leaned over and kissed you on the forehead. There was a wordless agreement made and the anticipation began.

Art cooked dinner while you worked on dessert, him making perfect seafood kababs over the provided barbecue in nothing but his swim trunks and some stupid apron you made him wear. You sat, admiring him from the kitchen inside, thinking about how he looked so husband. You had no other descriptors. He was so husband.

He waved at you through the window, staring at the bikini you were wearing as you baked your chocolate lava cake. You waved back, wiggling your fingers knowingly.

You ate together at the glass table right by the beach in the shade of the palms. The food was perfect and the dessert even better as the sun began to set. A whole day of enjoying being married and Art could not focus as you wiped your bottom lip of the lava cake, sucking the extra off your fingers, looking at him through your eyelashes. He watched, a little dumbstruck, mouth a little open. He could have had you on the table right then and there, but he knew he’d get lucky later…

You poured yourself a bath as you both digested, filling it with rose petals and sweet smelling candles. Art himself took a shower in the outdoor shower to clean himself from the water he’d been swimming in while he waited, then he cleaned up from dinner as his hair dried.

He was washing dishes when you stepped out from the bathroom. Hair perfect, eyelashes long, lips perfectly pouted and your body wrapped in delicate lace that barely covered you at all. a very small slip skirt to top it all off. Art almost dropped the dish he held but he was lucky to have the restraint to take off the dishwashing gloves as you used your pointer finger to signal him to come closer, slipping through the door of your bedroom and shutting the door behind you. He followed, opening it to you laying on the bed for him in wait.

He grinned as he jumped onto the bed, going to kiss you- but you dodged him. You giggled, looking at his surprise. He narrowed his eyes at you, going to kiss you again but you moved your head to the side, giggling more. “Uh-uh,” you teased. Art’s eyes glazed over with lust fuelled by love, looking over your body in this lingerie. You leaned forward and he thought you’d kiss him but you dodged him again. Art grinned his lopsided grin and grabbed your face, kissing you excitedly. You both laughed into it but the laugh was gone when he pressed his body to yours. He was hard before he even left the sink and he was glad there was so little to remove. You moaned as his hand slid down your neck, over your chest, gently squeezing through the thin fabric of your lingerie.

Oh, Art was driven crazy by the way you looked in it. The lights in the room were dim but enough to get a good look at you and if he weren’t so busy kissing you, lips against lips, hungry, driven, needed, he would be staring. He was painfully hard, pressing against you as he kissed down your neck, down your chest, moving your lingerie aside to kiss your chest, sending goosebumps to every part of your body and causing heat to flare between your thighs. He knew just what to do.

His fingers gently went between the slip of your skirt and your waist, lips following kissing between lace and skin and pulling it down. It revealed the bodysuit’s end, crotchless, perfect, but Art had a preference. He unsnapped the edges, the lace curling over your stomach as he kissed lower and lower. You pulled the lingerie off, not even minding that its purpose was quick, but effective.

Art’s lips grazed your thighs, planting the smallest of kisses down the inside of them, gently pushing your legs up into a bent position. You could have moaned just at the action of it, gentle but with intent.

He kissed up the thigh and over the hip again, coming to kiss your stomach. It was soft skin, pretty, but he imagined how it would feel to kiss in a few months after he was done with you. He kissed just below your belly button, then down, down, down, until he kissed gently over your clit and it send another wave of goosebumps, much stronger. He was gentle, so gentle it was almost unbearable.

Your hands slid into the roots of his hair. “Please,” you begged, breathless over the lack of touch, or rather the lack of pressure that you so needed.

“What was that?” Art said quietly from between your thighs, hovering over the places you needed his mouth, his tongue. He planted another kiss over your skin, not enough.

“Please,” you said, just a little louder. “I need it, I need you.”

“Need me to what?” He asked, eyes peeking up from where you laid. You pushed his head back down, but he didn’t you push him into any action. He was enjoying teasing you back, knowing it was so much worse than a dodged kiss. He could feel how in need you were as he kissed just a little lower, over the most sensitive parts. You breathed a heavy sigh, pulling his hair just gently but trying to push his mouth against you. “Say it.”

You flushed, “I need you-“ another heavy breath left your lungs, “-Please, Art.”

Honestly he didn’t even want you to take another second, he himself couldn’t help it. In a heartbeat his tongue was exactly where you needed it. Your back immediately arched at the contact and Art himself moaned as you did, the taste of you more delicious than any meal either one of you could ever cook.

His tongue licked over your clit, pressing hard against eliciting a second moan from you, licking down over you, his tongue sliding and pushing itself inside, just to lick up again. Your hands pulled his hair and you squeezed his head with your thighs gently, feeling all of it, every flick of his tongue, every time he circled your clit, every time his tongue pushed back inside, moving up and down quickly.

He pressed against the bed, but it wasn’t good enough, he was too excited to fuck his wife. He hummed against your cunt, sending vibrations down his tongue. You moaned louder, “Fuck, Art!” You moaned out. “Fuck, fuck- mmm.” You couldn’t help the noises he caused. He loved every second of it, every little noise, every tiny whine. Art would have continued until you came on his tongue, but your voice was the instruction he could never deny. “Fuck me, please.” You moaned.

He couldn’t waste a second after that ask, moving from between your legs just as you asked, wiping his mouth on his shirt before pulling it off and kissing you again. Hot, needy, passionate. Your hands travelled to his shorts, pulling them down, him following through by kicking them off. There was no waiting, there was no falter in his arousal, he plunged into you almost immediately, starting rough.

You both moaned loudly in unison as he began thrusting in and out. His excited crooked grin fucked right off by the way you tightened around him. His body over yours, chest to chest, dick deep inside you. Your whole body felt warm, fuzzy, and you were dazed, high on him. He lifted your leg over his shoulder, pushing deeper, you feeling it in your lower stomach as he fucked you. “You feel so good,” he said. He’d made love to you a million times before but this was rich with sober lust. “Fuck, Y/N.” He groaned.

Your eyes rolled back as he only went harder, faster, feeling you tighten under the pressure. He continued, more and more until, “Fuck, I’m close.” He said. “Can I?”

“Go ahead baby,” You grinned into the kiss, warmed as he continued, his thrusts getting harder, but more spaced, sloppier. You felt it hot as he finished into you, coming undone with your name on his tongue. It was loud, it was enough, it was hot and you were so full of him, even as he pulled out.

You breathed hard, feeling it when he moved out of you, kissing you a few more times before pushing up and moving right back between your thighs immediately following. He ate you out until you finished, HARD, moaning his name out desperately.

You fucked three more times that night.

The honeymoon was lovely. You came home and resumed work, Art resuming his tennis. You had both had late nights, sometimes early mornings, but slept soundly together every night, arms wrapped around one another until you woke up. Two months of a newly-wed routine with plenty of sex, plenty of kissing, and so much love in a singular household.

Art’s thing had been Chinese food lately. He’d come home from tennis with it, he’d get it on the way back from groceries and on Fridays when you both had nothing to do in the evenings and didn’t want to cook, you’d order in. It didn’t even occur to you that maybe it was too much when you when to put on your jeans and they didn’t fit. You felt the thighs were tighter as you pulled them up only to find that it was harder to button. You sucked in to button them and looked in the mirror. Maybe you’d put on some weight. You called Art into the bedroom, he walked in with his cereal and first thing he was excited to see you in just jeans and your bra.

“I have forty minutes before practice,” he said, setting the bowl down on the bedside table. You chuckled before looking back at the mirror.

You couldn’t help but smile, looking at him through it. “I have to ask you something and you have to answer it like you’re on truth serum, okay?” You said, turning to face him. He nodded, looking just a little bit concerned now at your approach. “You can’t answer as my husband or as the man who loves me, okay? Truth serum.”

“Truth serum,” he repeated, nodding. He walked over and kissed your forehead, confusion in his eyes.

You looked back in the mirror, back at him. “Havr you noticed any weight gain? On me.” You asked. You had heard about the effects of being someone’s wife but didn’t think they’d set in just yet.

Art cleared his throat, “Weight or not, you’re beautiful either way,” he said.

You smiled, but shook your head, “Not as my husband!” You giggled. “You’re sweet, though.”

He kissed you quickly, pulling you closer. “I have noticed, yes, but I don’t mind. In fact, I think I like it.” He smirked just a little. The man you loved for years could still make you blush. “I think it’s my fault. The Chinese.” He nodded.

“I was thinking that too,” you said. “It’s okay. I suppose I forgot I don’t have your metabolism and play tennis almost every day.” You chuckled. “I think I’ll lay off it for now.”

“Do you need to?” He grinned, pulling you into a kiss with intention.

“I have work in thirty,” you interrupted his kiss, though you loved it.

He grinned, “Oh, you have work.” He said back to you, kissing you again, this time with more passion. “I’ll make it quick?”

“Deal,” you agreed, pushing him back on the bed. You loved him and he loved you in any form, you were learning. That was good enough fuel for morning sex. Maybe you could burn calories bouncing for a bit…

The weight gain worsened. You gave it another three weeks, weeks that you began hitting the gym every morning of every other day, going with Art to practice, and only having Chinese once. You looked in the mirror again. Art came up behind you, kissing your shoulder, moving your hair to kiss your neck. You were undressing after work and you stood there in just your underwear. His hands slid over your waist, your hips.

“You still love me like this?” You asked him.

“Like what?” He asked, kissing your ear gently. It sent goosebumps over your skin.

“Like this,” you gestured to the mirror. “Bigger.”

He smiled against your skin, “So much.” He hummed into your ear. “You are so beautiful.”

“Promise?”

“You want me to prove it?” He asked, grinning. He moved to look at you, but you didn’t look very happy. “I’m sorry. Of course I promise. I married you, you just happen to be inside of a body. I love that too, but it doesn’t make you more or less worthy of how I feel.”

You were in love with his words. With the mouth that spoke them. With him. “But what if it gets worse.”

“There is no worse,” he chuckled, kissing your cheek, then nose, then lips, softly. “But Y/N, I don’t think it’s weight gain.” He said. He just smiled, “I have a theory.”

“What?” You asked. And it all clicked. You covered your mouth, eyes widening. “Do you think- I- why didn’t I even think about that?”

He grinned, “I think we both thought it was the Chinese.”

“It was supposed to be,” you laughed a bit breathily. “Oh my god, do you think we- oh my god.”

“I bought you two tests today,” he chuckled. You hit him in the arm. “What?”

“Move! I have to go take them!”

He laughed as you rushed in your underwear to the bathroom where he had laid them on the counter. It was a good thing you’d had a ton of iced tea at work that day. You were so cute. Art wouldn’t lie, from the moment it clicked for him, his heart hadn’t stopped racing. Part of him was worried that it wasn’t what the situation was and maybe it was something else, but he had a feeling. And so did you.

You wrapped yourself in your robes, your heart beating hard as you opened the door, Art waiting against the wall outside, arms crossed. Your hearts beat hard, nearly in unison. “I didn’t look yet, I thought we should together?” You said, the nerves apparent in your voice.

You set them down on the bedside table and sat on the edge, your eyes staying on Art’s. You could see the love in his eyes, the anticipation right along with it. You could feel it as your heart beat against your rib cage. “In three?” He said, perfect eyes meeting yours.

“I love you,” you said, trying not to giggle just because of the nerves. How did you not even think about this?

“I love you too. In three?” You both were so so scared, but so so in love. You nodded. “3…2…1,” and you both looked down at both of the tests, double-lined and confirming with a digital word,

pregnant.

You gasped, covering your mouth with one hand, the other grabbing Art’s arm. He inhaled sharply, turning to you without hesitation and kissing you hard, holding your face with both of his hands.

A baby, a baby, a baby.

“Oh my god,” he grinned between hard kisses, full kisses, perfect, excited kisses. “Oh my god.”

You kissed his cheek over and over and over, his whole face was peppered out of sheer excitement. “I’m pregnant!” You giggled. He chuckled, kissing you hard again. It was scary and new but wonderful to know it wasn’t Chinese food’s fault. It was lovely, wonderful, fulfilling. “I’m so glad I haven’t drank since the wedding.” You laughed. Art’s hands wrapped around you, holding you tight, your arms doing the same, keeping him in an embrace that he broke only to kiss your stomach the way he had on your honeymoon. He’d been waiting to do so.

And he never stopped kissing your stomach whenever he could, appreciating your body for what it was working so hard to grow. Sex got a little bit harder to achieve, but Art loved every second of it, worshipping your body for its achievements. He was great, very supportive, burying himself in books about parenting and pregnancy, buying you or making you every craving. He loved every change, every difference, how cute you looked in dresses. He cried when you ruptured the balloons to pink confetti, more excited to have a daughter than you’d ever expected. He loved you and he would love your daughter more than anything.

He was there through labour, through delivery, letting you squeeze his hand hard enough he thought you might break his bones. Even through the sweat and tears, you were the most beautiful woman in the world to him. And you were soon the most beautiful mother in the world to him when your daughter finally arrived after seven hours of labour. She was the most beautiful thing, covered in blood, but so beautiful. So tiny. So perfect.

He held his little girl in his arms when she was all clean and she smelled exactly as a baby should. She had big cheeks, a cute little nose, and he could pinpoint the features you’d given her. “She’s so beautiful,” Art said, trying not to cry. He was so in love, it was overwhelming. He passed you your baby and you held her, tired, crying. “Thank you.” He said.

You looked at him, “For her?” You pouted, your husband’s gratitude the most beautiful thing.

“For her.” He grinned, looking at his perfect daughter. “She’s absolutely perfect, you did such a good job.” He leaned down and kissed you quickly, then kissing his baby on the forehead. “I love you so much.” He said, meaning you both.

“I love you too,” you replied, kissing him again. You were so in love and here, in your arms, was the evidence

[simstorian-blog]

L O T R E V I S I O N - Accommodating the Suite Life Mod by Lot51

The S Hotel @ Uptown

(CC List + Links)

(Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with this hotel by any means. I simply took the 'S' from San Myshuno and slapped 'Hotel' after it. The '@ Uptown' is because I built it within the Uptown neighborhood of said Sims 4 world.)

World Map: San Myshuno

Area: Stargazer Lounge

Lot Size:  40 x 30

Amenities: Bar, Lounge, Nightclub, Pool, Restaurant, Wedding Venue

(These are the venue types that my build meets the requirements of)

Gallery ID: Simstorian-ish

Packs Needed

Expansion Packs

City Living

Eco Lifestyle

For Rent

Get Famous

Get Together

Get To Work

Island Living

Snowy Escape

Game Packs

Dine Out

My Wedding Stories

Parenthood

Spa Day

Vampires

Stuff Packs

Backyard Stuff

Home Chef Hustle

Moschino

Romantic Garden

Recommended Gameplay Mods

(Please read through what each mod has to offer before deciding if it fits your gameplay style or not.)

Dine Out Reloaded

Lock/Unlock Doors for Any Lot

MC Command Center

No Fade On Everything

Spawn Refresh

Build Mode

Harlix

Bafroom (Tall Windows + Tall Doors)

Harrie

Octave Pt. 2 (All Doors)

LittleDica

H&B Store (Lit Letters)

Peacemaker

Old World Wild Plank Flooring

Shaker Paneling

Pierisim

Stefan Kitchen (Tiles)

Syboubou

Lift Elevator (This is NEEDED)

TaurusDesign

Judith Living Room (Walls)

Buy Mode

BlueTeas

Milano Living (Chandelier Medium)

Safford Entertainment Room (Morris Barstool)

Samara Dining (Chandeliers, Sconce)

Felixandre

Chateau Pt. 5 (Tall Bookshelf Pieces)

Grove Pt. 2 (Dining Tables)

Hanraja

S005 Soundbar

Harlix

Baysic Bathroom (Toilet, Toilet Roll, Towel Clutter)

Kichen (All Glasses)

Kichen 2.0 Pt. 2 (All Glasses)

Livin’ Rum (Frame TV)

Orjanic Pt.2 (Chaise, Cushions, Rug, Sectional Sofa)

Tiny Twavellers (Director Chair)

Harrie

Coastal Pt. 5 (Nursery End Table)

Coastal Pt. 6 (Mirror Landscape, Sink Vanity Table)

Coastal Pt. 7 (Bedside Lamp, Leaning Mirror)

KiwiSims4

Blockhouse Kids (Bedroom Lamp)

Max20

Happily Ever After Kit (Bouquet Magnificent, Dining Chair)

No Style x Woodland

Tamasusja Booth Corner

Onyxium

Heilbronn Dining Chair

Pierisim

Domaine Du Clos Pt. 2 (Account Book)

Stefan Living (Curtains + Rod Covers)

PlushPixels

Into Summer (Olive Tree)

Ravasheen

Enjoy the Lentil Things

Shake and Shimmy Dance Floor

Simplistic

RPC x Loloi Rugs II

Sooky88

Oil Paintings

SurelySims

Office Space (Wall Clock Locations)

Syboubou

Bridgerton Wedding (Buffet Table)

Pour Toujours (Petals on the Floor, Tables)

Tuds

IND 02 (Bar, Island Counters, Wine Rack)

IND 03

Valia

Arty Bathroom

Wondymoon

Tiarella Garden Umbrella

DO NOT REUPLOAD MY LOTS.

DO NOT CLAIM THEM AS YOUR OWN.

DO NOT PLACE BEHIND A PAYWALL.

Tray Files: DOWNLOAD

[rottiens]

i must know ur stepcest thoughts 🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤

US AT MIDNIGHT | GETŌ SUGURU

✮ wc. . 2.0K

✮ tags. . stepcest, spit kink, smoker fem!reader, alcohol consumption, praise kink (good girl), canon au. 18+ mdni. divider creds: cafekitsune.

✮ about. . the right thing to do would be to forget about the past and start over. pretend nothing happened. but sometimes the right thing to do is not always what we should do.

✮ notes. . i wanted to explore this trope from a more 'forbidden romance' point of view rather than lust as such, yk? Suguru really cares about the reader. I hope you can still enjoy it and suguru will probably be ooc here so I apologize for that ;sighs;

"You look ravishing tonight." You needn't turn around to know who it was, though it would be hypocritical to deny that you weren't expecting him.

Suguru followed you stealthily like shadow into the backyard, guided by your hips and the sound of your heels against the wooden floor that gave him clues as to what your final destination was. The trees under the breeze of the spring entrance flutter carrying silence.

You steel yourself to turn around, the courage you have never had but now cling to as if your life depended on it. You squeeze the cigarette you carry between your fingers and finally order your feet to move. You almost curse the moon for showing him to you so mysterious, the absence of light allows you to admire his blurred features and the darkness dances on his face preventing you from seeing him clearly. You sigh his manly perfume and smile wistfully at him, dropping your head to the side.

"Suguru." You hadn't said that name in a long time, hadn't thought of it after going to college abroad and abandoning your promising future as a sorceress, so having it in your mouth drags up memories that hit your belly like whips. He returns the same smile, clutching the cup in his hand. In the distance, the sound of music comes muffled through the walls that separate you. "Thank you… you look…" older, handsome, taller "You look good," you conclude with a sigh. "You grew your hair long." You point out the obvious, with a finger gesturing to the black hair that falls loosely down his back.

Apparently something you said makes him grin more, not to the point where he shows his teeth but you do notice the way his shoulders relax at your presence just a little.

"You don't have to hide from me."

"I wasn't," you reply without blinking, trying to keep the plastic smile.

You barely forget about the cigarette burning in your hand, so before the ashes land on your gleaming heels you bring it to your mouth taking a deep puff in search of, ironically, clearing your lungs. After pleading with your mother that you didn't want to attend her and Suguru's father's annual wedding anniversary celebration and she asked that you do so, you created a master plan for tonight that included everything from your hairstyle to your outfit, continuing with the dialogues you would hold and the posture you would assume the entire night… only your perfect plan didn't include your stepbrother cornering you alone like the wolf he is.

You extend the cigarette to him but he shakes his head taking the cup to his mouth instead, ironic, you learned from his vice. You wonder what else has changed in him these past few years.

Amber drops stick to his lower lip as he finishes his drink, which he soon swirls around with his tongue. You watch, unable to pretend you have no interest in him, perplexed that he still has the same effect on you.

"I should get back," you say in a voice that is raspy from the smoke, preparing to walk by his side unwilling to drag out the encounter any longer; however his long fingers tangle around your arm and that spark runs through your entire body.

"We didn't do anything wrong."

"I don't want to talk about it." You avoid looking at him at all costs, focusing on the silhouettes of your parents and their guests dancing in the living room.

"I haven't stopped thinking about you," he suddenly confesses and you hate him for doing this to you now, in the middle of such an important celebration for them.

"I shouldn't have come." You try to struggle against his grip to which he relents, only to seconds later grab you by both arms and slam you against one of the columns, in the background, a cicada screams as the guests rampage with a hubbub and your lungs empty from the impact.

Suguru just looks at you as his fingers burn marks into your skin and you wish you knew what was going through his mind… probably the same as in yours.

"We were kids," you try to explain as a last resort. "It was just a game." Suguru moves closer to your neck and you allow him to trespass your personal space, his natural scent clouding your senses and making you cling to his white shirt in search of stability.

Silently and with your breaths ragged and ruffled, Suguru blindly pulls your hand to his hips and you put up no resistance, then lower.

"This is what you do to me," he murmurs hoarsely. Your fingers feel his length through his pants, much fatter than you remember. Unexpected memories shame you, that should never have happened, you tried to run away from home in search of a fresh start but the images always came back to you tormenting you with the raw whip of morality. "Do you need me as much as I need you? Is that pussy wet for me?"

"Suguru…" you call out to him with weak knees, imploring him not to take you to a place you can't escape from.

"That's right. Say my name, your big brother is right here, let him take a look."

You whimper, more for lack of words or response than because you have any other choice, Suguru uses your weakness against you and that makes you feel frail, under his big fingers he destroys the mask that for so long it has taken you to form. His fingers are cradling your pussy above the fabric of your dress, tracing the labia up and down as he parts them at the same time with light pressure in search of your hidden clit, as soon as he finds it suguru starts a swirl taking his time to listen to your body and which way he caresses you is the one that makes you feel the most pleasure.

He helps you remove the uncomfortable belt around his hips so you can find his hard cock, unlike him, you search through the boxers to touch him directly and you both gasp at the contact.

"We cannot…" you try to elaborate, however Suguru shuts you up with a sloppy kiss, makes you swallow the words as he pushes his tongue inside you, touching your upper lip in a mess of saliva and tangling with your tongue as he pauses to suck on it a little.

"Open." As soon as he commands you, still touching you, your lips stained from the smeared lipstick open for him letting his saliva drip onto your tongue. You swallow and he smiles, it's exactly like before. "I'm going to spit again, but this time keep it in your mouth, okay?" your eyes widen a little at the demand and you don't know if he notices, though you do it anyway without protest. Your tongue rolls out and you give him a glimpse of your mouth, suguru purses his lips again and drops a big gob but this time you do as he says and instead of swallowing, you keep it there. "Good girl," he praises you right away. "You look so pretty with your mouth full so you won't tell me things I don't want to hear."

At that moment, he climbs up the skin of your thigh and tosses the already soaked panties aside to play directly with your needy clit. Each touch is heartbreaking, it's like it's the first time anyone has touched you in years, his caresses are tiny bursts of pleasure that climb up your belly and squeeze you from the inside— with one hand on your neck and one on your crotch suguru keeps jerking you off while he talks in your ear and tells you how much he's missed you, how much he needed to see you again, by this point your body was about to explode, your legs tremble and your nipples harden with each dirty word that makes his throat vibrate.

Suguru raises his hand to the level of your face and shows you his open palm as if waiting for something.

"Spit." Seeing the confusion on your face you make him smile, which has an effect on you that you hate. Without further hesitation you spit, and he takes his now wet and sticky hand to his cock to lubricate it and with the same soaked hand he gives two round strokes to your pussy, giving you to understand that he is preparing you for what is coming next.

He abruptly turns you over so that your back is to him while he grabs your hips and lifts your ass, you stand on tiptoe while hiding your face in your hands. Common sense begs you because you still have time, logic tells you that someone could be watching you from afar and that your relationship would be more than an embarrassment to the family, yet it's hard to think about the moment when the thick head brushes your swollen lips in a gentle back and forth.

"Is this okay?" he asks. "Can I fuck you without a condom?"

You can't think. You want to say you're not sure, but a hasty, "Yes," rolls out of you before you can stop it.

You can sense his hesitation in the way his grip weakens around your hips and by how he continues to outline your pussy lips up and down without deciding to thrust even though you are blindly seeking him with your hips.

You call his name, looking back to stare at his body bathed in the dim light; the dark strands obscure his gaze as Suguru just focuses on the image of you open waiting to be taken for him. Even in the absence of light you admire his jaw clench.

"I don't want our first time to be like this," suguru breathes, still not raising his head to look at you. Your brow furrows slightly in both frustration and confusion, after all he's been the one to blame for you getting to this point— your lips parted to complain at the same time his voice fills the place again. "Squeeze your thighs together." He commands back authoritatively without waiting for a no.

You do as he asks. With your eyes straight ahead, you focus on the column in front of you to which you cling for support and amidst the murmur of applause Suguru slides his hard cock in between your thighs after he has spit again.

The sound of his moans are drowned out by the din at close range, his hips thrusting and rubbing desperately against you in search of release. Your whole body feels hot in different places and for different reasons, shame and pleasure are those that stand out the most burning your cheeks and an oppressive sensation cracking your ribs.

The amount of saliva makes the movement fluid, just like a dance in which you help him by pushing your hips back to meet him in that back and forth in perfect unison. This leads him to cum soon, he lifts your dress to spill the ropes of cum on your ass ruining the harmony of your skin, then, still with fingers dirty from his own orgasm suguru pulls you to cling to his chest and from behind drags a hand down your belly to take hold of your pussy once more.

He forces you to look into the room as two of his fingers deep into you and makes you moan, taking care to steal a hard orgasm from you as his kisses make themselves present in your throat and his cum slides very slowly along your ass. His chest heaves with pride knowing that you will spend the rest of the party with his mark on you, as everyone laughs and celebrates a special occasion; his cum would be spilling down the length of your thighs.

He rejoices knowing you had come back to him.

"Meet me in my room at midnight," he whispers in your ear after depositing a tender kiss on your lobe.

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Fuck It Friday It’s Saturday what if i try to just write a whole fic right here in a tumblr post

Okay Brick from the future here after i have indeed written a fic right here in a tumblr post, warning for some homophobia (described past high school experiences from Eddie). Based on this post. Have not reread it at all before hitting post so good luck hopefully it’s more or less cohesive

Was tagged in fuck it Friday by uh somebody probably but i can’t find it in my notes. Tagging — oh it’s like 11 o clock, so this can be for seven sentence Sunday? — @bigfootsmom @iinryer @shitouttabuck @chronicowboy @eddiebabygirldiaz @queerdiazs @butchdiaz @homerforsure

The music is turned down low now, because it’s late, and even though the sprawling backyard of the ranch house is far, far away from any neighbors the event coordinators were still firm about a noise curfew and it would be a shame for such a lovely wedding to end with a visit from some of Athena’s coworkers. Most of the lights in the house are off or dimmed — beds and couches littered with the young and the old and the drunk — so the only lights out here are the strings of fairy lights and little jars with bulbs in the lid that remind Buck of sneaking out to the park with Maddie to catch lightning bugs back in Pennsylvania. The murky light and the quiet make everything feel soft as Buck stands on the porch, bare feet on creaky wood. He’s not sure where his shoes got off to, removed at some point when the dancing had started to pinch his heels. His throat burns a little from all the talking — and maybe that last vodka sour — and his eyes sort of itch from all the crying earlier. (Eddie had frowned at him, three of his fingers pressed into his elbow, as Buck had wept through the ceremony. A clear are you okay? And Buck had only nodded, because talking would have been rude, and despite everything that might make it seem otherwise, he really was.) He thinks Eddie might be the only person left here that he knows, the rest of the 118 departing in the last hour or two, though he’s not sure where he is, either. Maybe the same place as his shoes.

“Buck.”

Not with his shoes, then. Buck watches as Eddie stumbles towards him across the lawn from wherever he’d been. Dancing, maybe. He’s sweaty, his cheeks are cheerfully pink and he’s grinning with all his teeth showing. Buck steps down into the grass to meet him. “Hey, Eds.”

“Hello,” Eddie says, soft and pleased. He looks all over Buck’s face, over his now disheveled suit with the jacket hanging on the railing behind him and down at his missing shoes. Eddie frowns at that. “Your feet’ll get cold.”

Buck wiggles his toes in the dewy lawn. “I’ll be okay.” When he looks back up Eddie has an expression on his face that he can’t quite read but has been frequently present, lately. And then there’s a laugh across the yard, and both turn to look. Tommy. Loud, and full of that kind of breathless, disbelieving joy that- well, Buck hadn’t really heard from him before recently.

“I don’t-” Eddie stops, and Buck watches out of the corner of his eye as he shakes his head, looks up at Buck. “How are you just okay with this?”

Buck tilts his head almost sideways as he turns back to look at him. “It’s true love, man. How could I be upset with that?”

Eddie doesn’t roll his eyes, but Buck can tell he wants to. “I don’t even know- if that even exists. You gotta- you work on it. Or… I don’t know. He just saw this fucking guy across a crowded bar, and, what, fucking bam, Cupid’s arrow?”

“There’s a little more history than that,” Buck protests, even though, yeah, that is kind of what happened. They’d been at a club over in WeHo and Tommy had stopped frozen-dead in his tracks on the way from the dance floor to the bar, staring with some combination of awe-fear-grief-anger-longing all over his face at some guy, around Tommy’s age or maybe a little older, sandwiched between two big jock types all grinding on each other, one of them sucking an impressive hickey onto his shoulder next to the strap of his tastefully tight tank top. Tommy had stumbled closer like a man bewitched, and had gasped out “Sal?” In a way that had made Buck think, Ah. Time’s up. He’d lingered a respectful distance back as the two of them had an intense little conversation, though the club was loud enough he probably wouldn’t have heard much if he’d come closer. And he went home with Tommy that night and sat on his bed as he’d paced around his little bedroom and talked about years shitty jokes and stupid, over performed masculinity, and wanting, and “-the last I heard he was fucking married, I’ve met Sandra, he has two kids-”, and when Tommy got a phone call the next day — an invitation to lunch, to talk — he’d looked at Buck and said “I’m so sorry- I’m so sorry, but I-” and Buck had kissed his cheek and said “Go.” And, now, not even quite three months later, a wedding. The whole 118 had been invited, and had gone mostly in solidarity to Buck, and everybody had been making a lot of meaningful eye contact over their drinks as he’d elbowed them to quit it.

“Dance with me.”

“What?” Buck blinks back to the present, feet in the grass, Eddie warm and close next to him.

“Dance with me, Buckley,” Eddie sighs, dramatic, petulant, a smile shining through his put upon attitude. He’s been cutting it up all night, spinning Karen around and around, dancing with Sal’s mostly cordial ex-wife and sisters and aunts and cousins. He even took Tommy for a turn at one point, while Buck had busied himself with downing whatever was in the glass Ravi handed him so he wouldn’t have to look at either of their faces.

“I’ll step on your toes,” Buck warns, turning fully towards him and vaguely holding up his hands for Eddie to do whatever it is that needs to happen to make the dancing start.

Eddie snorts, moves one of Buck’s hands to his shoulder and holds the other, and taps his shiny dress shoe very gently into Buck’s big toe. “Do your worst.”

Buck, historically, by any metric you care to measure by, is a terrible dancer. Bobby, who himself only manages the old man party shuffle, has looked on his lack of rhythm in abject despair. Eddie, though, Eddie can dance, and he does it so well it makes his dancing partner’s look good, too. They move through the grass halfway competently, movements kind-of smooth. Buck only feels polished leather under his feet once or twice. “You’re real good at this.”

Eddie nods as he pulls Buck into a little spin. “Took lessons, back in high school.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm.” He’s staring at Buck’s shoulder. “Sophia had lessons I had to drive her to, one of the instructors mentioned classes for older kids.” He shrugs. “Seemed fun.”

“In high school?” Something about the question makes Eddie’s shoulders get a little tight, but he nods. “And you played baseball? Damn, I never knew how anybody could have multiple extra curriculars, I barely made every football practice as it is.”

Eddie shrugs again, eyes still fixed on rumpled cotton. “I liked it.” Step, step, step, spin. “Took Shannon a few times, but she didn’t really like the structure of it, just wanted to get to the dancing part.” A little smile. “You bet I gave her shit when she got a leg cramp line dancing one time. Shoulda stretched.”

Buck laughs. “Did you stretch before coming here?”

“Yeah.”

Buck laughs harder, throwing his head back. They’re far enough out of the city that there are stars in the sky, and he gets distracted looking up at them for a moment, finding any constellation he knows. When he looks back down Eddie’s staring at his shoulder again.

“I could dance because of the baseball,” he says, quiet. “Because… Shannon, and I played sports, and I… you know.” He looks up at Buck, eyes dark away from any bright light. “I could laugh it off. When people said it was gay. Because I wasn’t.”

“Oh,” Buck says. He doesn’t know what else to say, about the reminders of what high school was like in the aughts, or about the past tense. He thinks maybe he should apologize, but Eddie keeps talking.

“Not in like a- I wasn’t tortured about it. I didn’t even think about it. It was- that’s not- it wasn’t even a possibility.” His palm sweats against Buck’s and his other hand burning against his side, and still they keep dancing, never losing the beat of the song. “One time… Aaron Dewitt called me a… you know. And everybody just started laughing, because, like. Man. That’s Eddie, he was just making out with his girlfriend under the bleachers, what the fuck are you on about.” He smiles, all wrong, and the way his voice gets lighter isn’t very light at all. “All those guys were begging me for moves before senior prom.”

“Eddie-”

“Buck!” Tommy stumbles in from the side, not even waiting for Eddie to retreat so his arm ends up awkwardly trapped between them as he plasters himself to Buck, hands on either his side of his face. He’s had a lot of champagne tonight, as Buck thinks is his right, and it’s made him unsteady on his feet in a way he knows most other drinks don’t. It’s the sugar, he’d said once. Goes right to my head. “Buck.”

“Hi,” Buck laughs a little, smelling the drink on his breath. “Hey, Tommy.”

“I love you,” Tommy says, sincere and eyes watering. “Thank you for coming. Thank you for- for everything. I didn’t- I never thought I’d get to have this.”

Buck thinks that he’s practically glowing, has been all night, getting even more supernova bright every time his now-husband touches his arm or side or back or anywhere and smiles a private little smile at him. “I’m really glad you do, Tommy. Love you, too.”

Tommy kisses his cheek, a little slobbery. “We’re gonna leave now, but I just wanted to say bye. I hope you had a good time. Sorry for- or- thank you-”

“I had a wonderful time,” Buck says, releasing Tommy from drunkenly trying to find an end to that sentence. They’ve had some version of this conversation several times already, Tommy always guilty and happy in dizzying little circles, and Buck hopes he can bury the guilt in the soft dirt they’re standing on and go on to live with just the happiness. “Have a great night.”

“Yeah,” Tommy says, laughing and nodding. “Yeah. Bye, Buck.”

“Bye, Tommy.”

They watch him hurry back across the yard, falling into Sal’s arms with the easy confidence of someone who knows without a doubt that he’ll be caught. Eddie’s arm is still across Buck’s chest where it had been stuck.

“I know you’ve said you’re fine with it-”

“About a thousand times, yeah, to you and everybody else we know-”

“Come on, man.” Eddie shifts his arm a little, up, so he can grab and shake Buck’s shoulder. The angle they’re standing at has caught the light, and Eddie’s eyes are gold again. “It’s me. Are you okay with this?

Buck thinks about high school, and all the things he didn’t think about either right up until Tommy Kinard kissed him in the kitchen. He thinks about Hen’s sky high eyebrows when she heard the news, and her and Chimney’s stories about the bad old days and the kind of person Sal seemed to be. He thinks about change, and how much it can happen to a person and how quickly, and how you just have to trust, sometimes, that people have grown and learned. He thinks about Eddie, and things that are impossible, and dancing, and- he laughs, sudden and loud enough that Eddie startles, because, fuck. This is exactly how it happened in the club, too. Seeing someone you know like the back of your hand in a new light and- bam.

When the laughter calms in his throat, Buck looks down at Eddie. “Really, I swear I’m fine with it. I had a really nice time with Tommy. He was… kind, and safe, and patient. I really liked him- I really like him. I hope I keep getting, you know, Christmas cards or whatever. I’m really happy he got his romcom ending. I mean- I kind of wish it was with a guy who doesn’t seem so much like an asshole-” Buck grins as Eddie snorts, “-but, uh, Hen says judging your exes taste in men is, like, a gay right of passage or something, so.”

Eddie nods once, twice, and then his eyes get a little wide, the way they do when he’s being brave. “So then, what does it mean if I’m judging Tommy for you?”

“He’s your friend, too,” Buck protests past the way his heart is thudding in his chest, because Tommy deserves defending here, probably. He kicks softly at Eddie’s shin. “You came to the wedding, don’t-”

“You’re not my ex,” Eddie says. He steps backward, and again, and they’re dancing again. “So. Still a right of passage?”

Buck’s palms are sweating, now. “You’ve never liked my taste in women, either.”

Eddie makes an unconvincing noise of denial. “I… thought…”

“Yeah?” Buck raises an eyebrow, and Eddie’s face twitches with how hard he’s trying not to grin.

“That… Ali… was fine.”

Buck cackles, and Eddie pulls him in closer and laughs into his collarbone. “You were so judgy when she dumped me, are you kidding, your fucking stink face every time-”

“You’re not my ex,” Eddie says again, loud, getting them back on track, standing upright but not moving any further away. They’re pressed together chest to knee. “Buck.”

“Yeah?”

They spin in a slow circle. “I’m pretty good at dancing, and- probably not so good at baseball anymore, but- well I dunno, maybe. We could go to a batting cage sometime. Anyway.” Spin and spin. “I guess I… do think about it, now. I think about- and there were a lot of things I thought were impossible, and weren’t, really. And- and I’m not in high school, and…” They slow, and stop, and Buck thinks Eddie’s hands and eyes are, probably, the warmest things on the whole entire planet. “We could go home and I could wait till tomorrow to ask you to lunch to talk about things, but we’re both already here.”

Buck laughs, and wonders if anyone listening to him would hear a kind of breathless, disbelieving joy. “You wanna take me to lunch?”

“Mhm. I was thinking we could get sandwiches.”

Buck laughs, and laughs, almost falling over with it, but that’s fine. He knows Eddie will catch him.

[cumulo-stratus]

Oh How I Love Loving You

(GIF NOT MINE)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Husband!Reader

Description: Y/n and spencer share their first dance as a married couple at their fall wedding in y/ns hometown in new england

Warnings: possible swearing, lemme know if theres anything else

Flufftober day 5: Dancing together

Spencer took the first brave step, his foot landing on the hardwood dance floor of their wedding venue. Spencer took y/ns hand and pulled him onto the dance floor- a giddy child like expression on his face when he felt his new husband's hand in his. The couple made their way to the center of the floor as the DJ (aka a brightly dressed Penelope Garcia) started their pre-selected special song for their first dance.

The newly married couple were placed in the center of the large backyard and stood, facing each other. Spencer reached up to adjust y/ns tie, but he swatted his husbands hand away saying "Spencer it doesn't have to be perfect, I'm just happy to be here with you" with these words y/n gave an encouraging- and what Spencer believed to be and absolutely radient- smile. Spencer placed his hands on y/ns hips and began to dance back and forth slowly and responded to y/n; "I know darling, but you deserve a perfect wedding."

The rest of the guests, including the BAU of said wedding stood around the dance floor, admiring the couple in matching suits and matching mismatched socks. Both Hotch and Rossi were discreetly wiping away happy tears at the sight in front of them. Even from afar, it didn't take a team of profilers to know that the two were absolutely and irrevocably in love with eachother.

y/n and Spencer continued their quiet, hushed conversation as they swayed back and forth. Spencer's hands lay on the y/n's hips and y/n's arms draped around his husbands neck. Despite Spencer's clumsiness he had managed to only step on y/n's foot once or twice, much to the teams surprise. But what they didn't know is that the couple had spent weeks practicing leading up to the wedding because in Spencer's words; "I can't make a fool of my self infront of everyone! And especially not you." Despite the reassurances of his then fiancé he still insisted on practicing. But y/n had to say, they never could've swayed and stepped with such elegance if they hadn't practiced.

And before they knew it the outro of their song arrived and the pair made a silent decision to just enjoy the last moments of peace before the chaos of a drunk and dancing BAU (and others). So they just touched their foreheads together and calmed down their steps, they settled for a soft sway instead. And there they both stayed, in a comfortable silence until the last line of the song rolled around.

oh how I love loving you..

and as the music faded out both y/n and Spencer's mumbled the lyric to each other, faces so close they could feel each others warm breath on their cold lips on the chilly October evening...

The End

[humblequestvinyl]

penthouse

PENTHOUSE, EDDIE DIAZ X FEM!READER

APART OF THE 'ROLLING UP THE WELCOME MAT' SERIES

SUMMARY: y/n’s packing up the penthouse with eddie, reminiscing on the times they had together, both good and bad.

inspired by penthouse by kelsea ballerini

previous chapter | next chapter

lowercase intentional! wc: 1.1k 

warning: swearing, vvv much angst! divorce meeting/hearing, anger & a courthouse

a/n: i swear on 911 on abc i did not forget abt this series, i was just busy doing smth for taylor swifts eras tour. anyway enjoy <33

“BUCK I HAVE TO GO PACK UP THE HOUSE.”

y/n told buck softly, before quickly leaving his house, and getting into her jeep.

the entire ride was silent. no music, no singing, and all of LA’s traffic was quiet as all could be. the girl was left alone with her thoughts, thinking about how badly it would hurt to roll up the welcome mat they had picked out right after they had moved in.

december 16th. exactly two weeks after their wedding date, and four days after they had gotten back from their honeymoon. a penthouse with a backyard for chris, and maybe a few more kids down the road, outlooking the mountains.

a penthouse that was filled with so many birthdays, holidays, and endless fights between the two. a penthouse the diaz’s thought they could call their forever home.

guess that’s kind’ve hard to do when you’re playing house in a home that didn’t feel like one.

it took the girl exactly 12 minutes to get to her old home, seeing eddie’s car already sitting in the driveway, and she dreaded going in. having to be in the same room as him, having to try to hold a conversation with him for the first time in two months.

finally taking a deep breath in, she walked inside, seeing eddie already packing up the kitchen, leaving half of it for y/n to take.

“take it all.”y/n spoke up, causing the man’s head to snap towards her, with almost a glare of some sort, “i’ve got enough plates back in nashville.”

“i’m only here to take my clothing and whatever else is mine.”she told him, before walking towards their old bedroom, leaving him standing there silent, something that wasn’t new between the two.

grabbing a box that was leaning up against the wall, she walked into the closet, seeing all of her clothing scattered on the floor, just the way she had left it. the first thing that had caught her eye was the black jumper she had worn in 2019, with flashes of the night before running through her mind.

all of her old tour costumes, red carpet dresses she wore with eddie right by her side, and all of the clothing she would wear while they stayed up late at night, watching the bachelorette. all packed away into a box labeled ‘storage’.

the last thing that stood was her wedding dress. 

the gorgeous silk wedding dress she spent hours upon hours searching for with her mom, going to endless bridal appointments looking for, and spending way more money than she was willing to admit. 

all being packed away into a box, forcing her to act like nothing had happened.

packing up her office, her half of the bathroom, her half of the storage room they had in the penthouse. all of it being gone, trying to get rid of the memories associated with them. pain went through her chest, with tears building up knowing she was the reason they were packing up the boxes, and moving out of the penthouse she adored, but knowing she couldn’t stay there anymore.

family dinners, dancing in the living room with eddie to their favorite taylor swift song, endless family game nights (with buck joining them everytime) and the christmas parties they always hosted. all gone because she was blowing up the life they had together.

picking up her guitar case off of the floor of the closet, she walked out to the jeep, stuffing everything she could into the car before walking back inside, seeing eddie standing in front of their dining room table.

“what do you want to do with the table?”eddie spoke up, not daring to look at the girl in front of him, “you were the one who bought it, figured you’d want it.”

“keep it, sell it, donate it.”she suggested, before shrugging, “i don’t care eddie. do what you want with it.”

“you want nothing to do with anything in this household besides whatever was distinctly yours?”he questioned as she placed her old key on the counter, shaking her head slightly.

“too many bad memories associated with it.”

—-- 

(ONE WEEK LATER.)

“HE WANTS WHAT?!”

y/n gripped her steering wheel hard as she was stuck in standstill LA traffic (one thing she wouldn’t miss), trying to get to her divorce hearing.

“he wants alimony along with child support, or half of the house with child support.”y/n’s lawyer told her, and she could feel her anger boil over, “he didn’t pay for the fucking house!”

“like yes he contributed, but he sure as hell didn’t pay for it!”she exclaimed, and she could already tell her lawyer, maeve was cringing, knowing she was right, “i will gladly pay the child support, but i want visitation with chris.”

“that kid means more to me than anything. i’m not abandoning him.”y/n stayed firm, and she heard maeve hum on the other line of the phone, “what about the other half of it?”

y/n stayed silent, debating her options.

having an alimony hearing every other week, with press standing outside the courthouse every single time, causing the divorce to be even messier, or have him take half of the house that she wanted nothing to do with.

“let him take half of the house.”she finally spoke up after a few moments, feeling her knuckles turn white, “it's better than being stuck at alimony hearings every other week.”

“are you sure?”maeve asked, and y/n stayed silent, “i know how much you love that house.”

“give him the house.”she stated one last time, before they figured out the final details as she pulled into the parking lot of the courthouse, praying everything would go over smoothly.

something that rarely happened with the two.

as y/n walked in, the h/c girl saw her soon to be ex husband standing with his lawyer, waiting for the girls arrival so they could get it over with. when they walked in, the two sat across from each other, his brown eyes met her e/c ones.

he could tell she knew. she knew about him wanting the half of the house that she adored, one that she loved so much. one they had picked out together, and now they were ripping it apart like it was just a piece of paper.

you can’t win when you’re playing house, in a broken penthouse.

[rodanhoax]

Jaune: You know, you guys didn’t have to bring me along on your honeymoon. 

Nora: Aw, it was no issue Jaune. Right Ren? *Holds onto Rens arm*

Ren: Of course. Afterall, it was the least we could do after forgetting your birthday.

Jaune: It wasn’t that bad. Besides, you guys were busy preparing for your wedding, so it wasn’t your faults you forgot.

Nora: Either way, we thought you could enjoy the sights while we did some... newlywed activities. *Giggles like a child, still excited from their recent union*

Jaune: *Chuckles at Nora as he sets down their bags* Well, I guess all I can say is thanks. I’m gonna go grab the last of the luggage. You two just kick back and relax, alright?

Ren: Much appreciated Jaune. *Nods as he and his wife hold one another close, about to close in for a kiss*

Jaune: *Before leaving, he remembers something and pulls out an odd envelope from his pocket* Oh yeah, Ren, I almost forgot, this came in the mail before we left.

Ren: *Raises an eyebrow as he takes the envelope, opening its contents right as Jaune leaves the room*

Nora: Ooh~ That must be our marriage license.

Ren: Nora, this isn’t a marriage license. It’s a... restraining order?

Nora: *Shocked* Oh nuts! I was in such a rush I just grabbed the first form I saw and filled us both in.

Ren: It says we can’t be within... 25 yards of one another.

Nora: But 25 backyards is like... A lot! We got to get this fixed right away!

Ren: Nora, we need to file this to court if we wanna cancel it. And that may take a few days.

Nora: But... Our honeymoon. If we leave, we can’t enjoy it here. We’ve been looking forward to this for months.

Ren: I’m sorry, but unless we wanna risk breaking the law... again, there’s not really any other option.

Nora: No! I refuse! There’s gotta be something we can do to at least enjoy our honeymoon here, without getting in trouble, and until we can get this restraining order sorted out.

Jaune: *Kicks door open before coming in the rest of the luggage* Whew! Got the rest of the luggage guys! Anything else you two need before I head out?

Nora: ...

Ren: ...

RN: *Nod at one another*

Nora: Oh Jauney~ Do you think you could do us a big, BIG, favor?

Jaune: 🤨 ?

(Morning)

Nora: *Eating a nice stack of  chocolate chip pancakes*

Jaune: *Pops in with a bouquet of pink lotus flowers*

Nora: *Smiles as she takes them, waving outside the window to Ren, whom is currently doing some yoga*

(Afternoon)

Ren: *Driving a jet ski through ocean*

Nora: *Laughs joyously as her and Jaune water ski, her sitting atop his shoulders*

Jaune: *In absolute agony, trying his best to keep his balance, hold up Nora, and not vomit from the speed they were going*

(Evening)

Ren: *Ballroom dances with Jaune before releasing him with a spin*

Jaune: *Miraculously maintains his spin as he elegantly makes his way to Nora*

Nora: *Catches him before dropping him down onto the floor in an attempt to dip him*

(Night)

We see Jaune in bed with someone, sweat dripping down his body as he thrusts wildly into them from above. The creaking sound of the bedframe could be heard 5 rooms over, the frame threatening to fall apart with each thrust, as well as the feminine wails of pleasure from his partner. This stops, as with one last push, the two let out loud sensual moan as they climax together, Jaune grinding himself as deep as he could as he filled them to the brim. Sliding himself out, Jaune moves over to the side of the bed, catching his breath before grabbing and pulling up his pants.

Jaune: So... Like that?

Ren: *Pants in exhaustion as he sits himself up* Yes... Just like that. Nora will love it. So don’t keep her waiting.

Jaune: *Sighs* Hope my aura’s ready this. *Stands up and cracks his back before rushing off to go break out Nora’s*

Ren could hear his footsteps as Jaune made his way over to the guestroom, where Nora had been patiently waiting. The rooms here had such thin walls, he wouldn’t be surprised if Nora had heard every bit of him and Jaunes passionate fornication. In fact, he wouldn’t be surprised if that only aroused her more.

Nora: Took ya long enough! Now come to mama fearless leader~ 

Ren lets out a small smile as he hears Jaune and Nora quickly begin their own bout of sexual intercourse, sounding just as wild and passionate as his own, if not more so. A yawn escaping his mouth, Ren decides it’s time to get some shut eye, excited to see what the next day brought them. Afterall...

That was just the first day of their honeymoon.

(2 Weeks Later)

RWBY: *Waiting by the bullheads to greet the newlyweds once they returned*

Ruby: *Eye widened as her friends came into view* Hey, there they are!

Yang: It’s about time. *Squints her eyes in confusion* Wait, why are those two standing so far apart from one another?

Blake: *Shrugs* Beats me. Looks like they enjoyed their time though.

Yang: *Smirks* How much you wanna bet it’s because they spent most of it breaking in their bed?

Weiss: Do you have to make everything so vulgar Yang?

Yang: Jeez Weissy, it’s just a joke. No need to be such a pru... Is Vomit Boy ok?

Blake: He looks like he’s been drained of every ounce of vitality he had.

Ruby: You think Ren and Nora had him do a lot of work for them?

Before they could continue, they watch as Jaune collapses onto the ground. The team quickly rushes over to their friend, wondering if he was alright. They come across Ren and Nora, having not moved to check on their leader for some reason, instead lower their heads in grief for their fallen teammate.

Ren: He was a good man.

Nora: *A tear fall down her cheek* And virile lover.

Ren: ... Yes.

RWBY: *Looks at the two in confusion, no clue as to what was even happening... that is until one of them happened to remember something*

Yang: ... Wait. Does this have something to do with joke restraining order I sent you?

[arentalconnection]

Make Your Backyard Wedding Memorable with A Rental Connection's Dance Floor Rentals. Transform your outdoor space into a stunning dance floor for your special day. Our high-quality and customizable dance floors provide a safe and stylish surface for you and your guests to dance the night away. Trust A Rental Connection for your backyard wedding dance floor needs.

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[honeyjars-sims]

Roy G. Biv's V2 (Revamp of old lot) Lot Type: Nightclub Lot Size: 40X30 Location: Built on Rippling Flat in Newcrest

Roy G. Biv's is a club for the LGBTQIA+ community. RGB's has something for everyone, whether you want to dance the night away on the dance floor, croon your heart out on the karaoke machine, or simply relax in the hottub. Don't forget to check out live music on our spacious but intimate patio. We also have an expansive VIP area upstairs for up-and-comers.

Screenshots were taken with a lighting mod (sunblind by softerhaze).

Packs used: Get Famous, City Living, Get Together, Get to Work, Dine Out, Spa Day, Vintage Glamour, High School Years, Eco Lifestyle

1 or 2 Decorative items from: Island Living, Seasons, My Wedding Stories, Jungle Adventure, Moschino Stuff, Fitness Stuff, Bowling, Backyard, Perfect Patio, Luxury Party, Blooming Rooms, Industrial Loft, Courtyard Oasis, Holiday Celebration, and Desert Luxe

Download: Patreon | SFS

Also available on the gallery: username simstrashkingdom

Enjoy! And please feel free to tag me if you use this lot!

[criminalmindswhore]

Call If You Need Me

angsty, fluffy, pulls at your heartstrings

TW: Mentions of parental death

The timing of your life always felt like some sort of sick joke on you. Without fail, everything happened at the worst time and, your mother's death was no different.

"I'll be back in a few months honey," Emily promised as she stroked your head that was placed in her lap on the couch. The movie on the screen is long forgotten. You gripped her pants tighter, "I'm just worried you won't get the chance to come back to me." Emily sighed, your worry was logical and was her biggest fear. "I promise to do everything in my power to get back to you Y/n." Emily leaned down and pressed a kiss to your temple. Tears silently rolled down both your cheeks. "One call to Clyde and I will come home as fast as I can."

The phone rang loudly in your ear as you sat on the kitchen floor of her apartment, "Easter speaking." Your words got caught in your throat, and a sob came out instead. Clyde sat up at his desk, "Y/n?" You took a deep breath and forced the words out, "Clyde my mom died. I don't know if this counts as a reason to pull her out, but I want her to know as soon as possible. My mom was like a mom to Em." Clyde remembered the stories Emily had told him on the way to Boston.

The rain was pouring down all day essentially ruining your plans to take Emily to the market in your hometown. You padded down the stairs being careful not to slip in your socks. You found your mom looking out the living room window, you stood beside her and sighed, "There goes our plans for the day." Your mom giggled, "But the rain made us better plans. Go get Emily." She shooed you up the stairs to find your lover still asleep. You woke her up and slipped her shoes on before pulling her downstairs. The front door was open and you found your mom in the front yard running in the rain, a massive smile on her face. She spotted Emily and you laughing at her from the porch. She beckoned you to her. "Oh, absolutely not Mom." She glared at you, "You can't get struck by the lighting if you're not in the rain." She pulled your hand and Emily's as thunder cracked out. The three of you spent almost an hour in the rain. Running, dancing, laughing, talking. You and Emily stealing kisses when possible. You were out of earshot from the two when your mom told Emily, "Thank you for loving her, Emily. You're always welcome here with us." The words made Emily cry. The love she always wanted from her mom, she got from yours.

You were sitting on the windowsill staring at the London skyline. You felt frozen in time and space. You needed Emily to guide you, but you couldn't have that right now. Your phone vibrated and you looked down to see a number you didn't know. You answered immediately, "Hello?" Emily smiled, your voice. "Hi Brad." Brad. It was the name Emily told you before she left, "If I need to contact you for emergencies, you are Brad." You let out a soft cry, she was alive and talking to you. "I heard the news. I'm thinking 'bout coming home." She said it in a whisper. Emily was standing in the next room over from Doyle, but god knows she had to be careful. She looked out the window at the huge backyard of the villa. She was nervously playing with the wedding necklace Ian gave her. She felt so dirty wearing it. "I need to confirm the shipment and get in contact with Chris. Pack it up and meet me at the spot." Your stomach dropped thinking about how in code she had to be with you but, knowing she was okay enough to remember all these codes gave you comfort. "Where?" You wanted to tell her how much you loved her, how much you missed her but you didn't want to risk anything. "Someone will send you the coordinates. Don't be late, he doesn't like it when shipments are late." You cried yourself asleep that night replaying her voice in your head over and over. It sounded a little different but you figured she adopted the dialect of where her cover is from.

"Y/n I'm being so serious right now!" You doubled over in laughter with your mom. "There's no way you have a whole assignment to do a job interview in a Southern accent!" Your mom said as she slapped your arm from humor. Emily was standing in front of you two smiling pretending to be offended, "I do!" She said in a Southern accent, "I take one theatre class for an elective and you two act like I've grown another head!" She was laughing now at her own accent. "Oh, how college has changed you, Emily Prentiss!" You said dramatically and pretended to faint into your mom's lap.

You spent the next week jumping at every phone call and text, waiting for the coordinates that never came. You were losing hope that Interpol would pull her out because of your mom. From the start, you knew it was a long shot. There were very few reasons that someone that deep undercover would get pulled out and a death in the family isn't one of them.

Emily, sorry, Lauren was in the front garden harvesting some Lilacs for Ian's birthday. The purple flowers were in perfect bloom and the smell wafted into her nose. She had just picked the last one when she heard tires screeching to a halt. She looked up to see 4 SUV's and men coming at her. "What's going on?" She asked in Italian, they grabbed her and shoved her into a car. "I need to speak to Easter," she said softly. The second the car door closed, she yanked off the necklace Ian gave her and let out the breath she had been holding for 8 months.

Standing around the casket you and your family watched as your mom was lowered into the ground. You were gripping the rose meant for Emily to place like it was the last thing keeping you upright. "Wait!" Your head immediately turned and saw her. Your Emily running across the cemetery. Her hair was lighter now and she had bangs, but god she looked beautiful. It was like the first time you had ever seen her. She reached you and immediately pulled you into her grasp. Tears you didn't know you had left came flooding from your eyes as your arms wrapped around her neck. Emily breathed you in, your perfume filling her nose. "Em. I thought-" She pulled back, keeping her arms around your waist, "I had to wait until it was safe to pull me out." Emily smiled sadly at you. Your mouth was just opening and closing like your brain was short-circuiting. "You made it," you finally choked out. Emily pulled you in for the first kiss you'd shared in 8 months. Her lips felt the same, tasted the same, that kiss made your brain realize she was really here. It felt like life was being poured back into Emily's being after being someone else for so long. You were the one to pull away this time as you handed her the rose, "I saved this for you to give her in case you made it." Emily's smile dropped and a wave of sadness overtook her. She took the rose from you and stepped towards the casket. "Thank you for loving me like your own and for welcoming me into your home and arms. You raised an amazing daughter and I intend to take over the watch now. I got her."

Emily dropped her rose in and grabbed your hand holding it tightly. Emily didn't cry in front of people except you and JJ, so when you looked at her and saw tears on her cheeks, you felt your heart shatter. The past 8 months were so hard for Emily, you cannot fathom coming home to this.

As the sun set on your hometown you and Emily sat in your dad's truck in a parking lot. You needed a moment away from the family and Emily needed space to begin to process the past 8 months. Her hand was intertwined with yours, music playing softly. You looked away from the sunset to look at her. She felt your eyes on her and turned to you, a smile gracing her face when she saw you. "I'm sorry Em." Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "For what?" A tear slipped from your eye, "For whatever you just endured. I know you can't tell me anything for a while because of the red tape and rules but I'm here when you want to or need to talk about it. Mom would kick my ass if I didn't recognize how hard of a time this is for both of us." Emily looked down at the console, licked her bottom lip, and then bit it. You grabbed her chin and pulled her eyes back to yours, "That's your tell so don't try to tell me to worry about only me." Your eyes were serious, "When I can, I promise to not bottle this up." You leaned into her and pressed a sweet kiss to her lips, "I love you." Your words were quiet but meaningful, "I love you so much Y/n." Emily's hand grabbed the back of your head and pulled your lips back to hers, this time more passionately. As your lips collided thunder cracked. Emily's hands threading through your hair, your hands on her face. She pulled away to breathe and opened the truck door, "Let's go dance in the rain for your mom?"

[coneyislandbabey]

all your sickness, i can suck it up. -> e.roundtree

WARNINGS: alcohol and maybe some cursing?

SYNOPSIS: The push and pull between you and Eddie Roundtree was never-ending. No matter how hard you tried to push him away, you always came back together.  word count: 1,573

NOTES: This is part (6/8) of the Beast of Burden series! Part five can be found here. I hope y'all enjoy! Series is almost done now...

Los Angeles, 1974 

Somehow, the news of Camila’s pregnancy didn’t surprise you at all. The way she and Billy had been going, they were either going to be together ‘til death and raise a small army of unnervingly attractive babies together, or else they were going to crash and burn in the flames of the most damaging breakup known to man. It was going to be the first one, you guessed. 

The timing was shit, of course, considering all of you were getting ready to head out on tour very soon. But with Billy’s lifestyle, was there ever going to be a good time? Probably not, you thought, which is why you were wholeheartedly into their middle of the night wedding plan. You knew Billy was trying to be a good dad already, in his fucked up, disjointed kind of way. He was trying to set up a real family for this baby to be born into, even if he would be leaving Camila all alone right after they got hitched. You respected the effort. 

You put on one of your nicest dresses, a beautiful thing of deep green silk and beaded details that fell to midcalf and moved like water on your body. Camila had done a wonderful job turning the backyard into a beautiful backdrop for the wedding. If you were a stranger, you might have even thought that some planning had gone into all of this, that the matrimonial couple had chosen to have a nocturnal backyard wedding because it’s what they wanted, not because of extenuating circumstances. 

You downed a glass of champagne and a half before the vows were said, and your alcohol consumption only grew, quickly and steadily, after that. An hour later you were standing with your back against the house, thoroughly drunk and pouting as you watched Billy waltz Camila around the makeshift dance floor, happy giggles dropping like bubbles from her perfect mouth. 

An ache had settled in your chest the minute that they had announced their pregnancy, and it had only grown in intensity throughout the night. For a long time, you couldn’t quite put your finger on what was causing it, but the picturesque tableau in front of you made everything clear. 

You were jealous. 

Billy and Camila had the one thing you had wanted for so long and felt like you would never be able to have. They had their happiness with each other, and they could put it on display for all the world to see. There was nothing stopping them from being together, nothing in the way of them finding a home within each other. And they were married now, in a perfectly imperfect little ceremony celebrating with their closest friends-turned-family, preparing for a life as a unit together. 

You wanted to have that more than anything, and you wanted it with Eddie. You could picture your perfect life so vividly, one where you could call Eddie your own and be happy with him without worrying about any kind of consequences, but it was like all of it was on the other side of a solid wall of soundproof glass.  The kind of glass that you could hit with a baseball bat over and over, but would never break. Would never let you in. Not as long as you wanted your respect, your fame, your art. 

“Hey, you alright over here?” Eddie, seemingly materializing right out of your drunken daydream, was standing next to you, a slightly worried look on his face. 

“Eddie,” you grinned, voice coming out far louder than you had planned on. Eddie laughed, taking in your clearly hammered state. 

“You know, it’s kind of bad form to get so fucking drunk at a wedding,” he noted, amusement filling his eyes. 

“Oh, please,” you waved a hand dismissively. “I can get as drunk as I want in my own backyard, wedding or not, thank you very much.” 

“And who am I to argue with that logic,” he responded, holding his hands up in mock surrender. 

“Exactly,” you nodded approvingly. “Care to dance with me, Mr. Roundtree?” 

“I’d love to,” he smiled, offering you a hand like a proper gentleman. You took it, and he led you over to the makeshift dance floor. He pulled you towards him, his hands going securely to your waist as yours wound loosely around his neck. The two of you easily found the rhythm, swaying back and forth along with the song. 

You lost yourself in the familiar scent of Eddie’s cologne, spicy and a little green, like the Pennsylvania forests as summer turned to autumn. You stared up at him unabashedly with love-filled eyes, taking in every feature of his face. 

“What are you lookin’ at, darling?” he asked, staring back at you with the same affection. You felt the corners of your mouth lift into an involuntary smile at the mere sound of his voice. 

“Jus’ you,” you hummed, tilting your head to look at him from a slightly different angle. The lanterns that Camila had hung in the trees cast a warm, yellow glow across the yard, and it touched every bit of Eddie with gold. 

“Like what you see?” he asked, grin turning cheeky. 

“Mm, I always do.” Your heart snagged at the red flush that overtook his face at your words. You caught sight of Camila and Billy dancing behind Eddie, and the pout returned to your face before you could tamp it down. 

“What’s going on with you tonight, (y/n/n)?” Eddie asked, a frown on his face to match your own. “You can talk to me, you know that.” 

You sighed, embarrassed to realize that there were tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You sighed, trying to gather yourself as much as you could through the haze of booze. You didn’t want Eddie to see you cry. Not on a night that was supposed to be nothing but celebration. 

“It’s just– I see them,” you started, tilting your head towards the happy couple. “I see them, and I wish it could be us.”

You watched Eddie’s eyes widen in surprise, confusion coloring his features, and you pressed on before he could respond, intent on explaining exactly what you meant. 

“I want us to be able to just be happy, Eddie. I wish there was nothing else complicating things. I want us to be able to be together and everyone to know it and that to just be that, you know? I want… I want us to go through life together as a unit, and it’s breaking my heart right now that we can’t,” your voice was rough with emotion by the end of your explanation, unshed tears swimming in your eyes as you lifted your head to look at Eddie. You wished that you weren’t too drunk to lie. You wished you had the wherewithal to tuck all of these emotions neatly away where no one could see them, not even him. You wished that you could reach up and kiss him and maybe feel a little peace. 

Eddie brought one hand up from your waist to cup your cheek, thumb dragging gently back and forth across your skin, and you leaned into the comfort of his touch. 

“I want that, too,” he said softly, and your heart clenched at the undertone of pain in his voice. 

“I’m sorry for all of this,” you said. A tear escaped your eye, and Eddie brushed it away with heartbreaking tenderness. “If I was different, we–” 

“I would never want you to be different,” Eddie cut in firmly. “I love you because of every single thing that makes up who you are, and I wouldn’t change any of it. I want you to achieve everything you desire, and I would never want you to desire less than you do.”

You smiled at his words, shaking your head fondly. Never in your life did you imagine being loved with the ferocity that Eddie loved you with. Loved despite everything, loved because of everything. Loved in every manner, in every version, in every world. 

“I never imagined something as wonderful as you could exist, Edwin,” you said earnestly. “And I’m still sorry that I’m the one standing in the way of us having all of this.” 

“I’m not sorry about it,” Eddie shrugged. “I get the honor of watching you achieve your dreams. And while you’re out there achieving everything you’ve ever wanted, I’ll wait for you until we can have this, too.”

“I can’t ask you to wait for me,” you said, eyebrows drawing in at the thought. Who knew how life would go? Who knew how many years would go by before the opportunity presented itself? 

“You didn’t ask me to, angel. But I’m not capable of anything else,” Eddie said. “I love you, and that’s not going away. It’s been how many years already? You’re just stuck with me now.”

You laughed, your head dropping against his broad chest. 

“I promise it won’t always be like this. One day it’ll pass, all my anxieties, all the possible consequences. Then we’ll have all this, too.” 

“I know,” Eddie nodded. “There’s no other choice for us, I don’t think. You and I are just a fact of life.” 

A fact of life. You liked that. Eddie being tied to you in some overarching, cosmic way was about the only thing in life that made sense.

tag list: @eonnyx @celestialstar111 @whataloadofmalarkey @sapphiclm @spidermanenthusist @mannstarkey @luvrgirl555 @toyourloves @thefemininemystiquee @treblebeth @how2besalty @vyctorya @neptunes-curse @littlehoneyfreak @itsjustmikii @fallingwallsh

[thedeviltohisangel]

I Heard From The Heavens

Got Nothing On Mine

That summer, only a few years ago but feeling like a different lifetime, Daphne had lied awake at night wondering if having him was worth the pain. To have Bradley Bradshaw paying her so much attention and making her feel like a sparkler was at the end of every nerve only to have him stop coming around a few days later. To wake her from a walking dream by slamming her heart into the ground. And no matter the reasons why Bradley was who he was, why she was who she is and why the universe chose to have them collide and break apart over and over again the past years, they were here now.

In Between Real Love And Real Life

Maverick had accepted his own mortality a long time ago. He only asked the universe to keep him safe so Daphne would not know the pain of loss he watched other aviator’s families go through over the years. As he watched her with Bradley, a man who reminded him so much of his father that he had to keep him at arm’s length, he hoped the similarities ended there. He had to protect her from loving because that was the only way to protect her from losing. He doesn’t think he could bear witness to anymore tragedy.

I'm Counting On This

He had been so proud to show her their names on the title. Had felt so proud when he carried her through the front door. Had never felt happier than he did waking up to her and coming home to her and loving her. Her father had tried to stop them from doing it. Stop Bradley from feeling the peace he had since moving here. He would never forgive him for that.

You've Been Hiding

He nodded once, almost imperceptibly, but she noticed. She noticed the way it strained him to look away. She noticed the way he hit the pool balls with more force than necessary. She noticed the way he had to focus on not looking her way more than the game in front of him. Jake noticed that Daphne had blossomed in front of Bradley the moment she had seen him. Noticed that the walls in front of her heart that she had told him scared her spared no chance against the mustached pilot. Noticed she said his name like it was something fucking biblical.

Nothing To Catch Us But The Ground

And as tears trickled down his own face, he realized how close he had come to losing her that day. That it wasn’t Bradley’s fault. That maybe Pete Mitchell had cheated death one too many times for the universe’s liking. That maybe this was it’s reminder how mortal he was. That no matter how often he sought the solace of a cockpit, the ones he loved most were on the ground and if he forgot that ever again, he’d regret it.

Another Round Of Me And You

She felt like she hadn’t had a moment to actually spend with Bradley since the two of them arrived hours ago. They both had been pulled in different directions from college friends and work friends and her father had been insistent she dance with him so they could practice before the actual wedding. Daphne doesn’t think she had smiled this much in a while and her cheeks hurt as much as her feet as walked off the dance floor and discarded her heels. 

Break The Bubble

Pete wanted to stay, continue talking and find the resolution he promised Daphne he would. But the way Bradley looked at him was not the way you look at someone you want to continue speaking to. It was how Pete looked at him when he caught him with his hand up his daughter’s skirt at a backyard picnic. A man desperate to prevent the world from harming something precious to him. A man ready to fight for his family and the home he had built. A man ready to die for his convictions.

Rooting For Us Like The Home Team

He felt it in his heart that the universe was perfectly in line. That nothing was out of place and everything was exactly as it was meant to be. That beyond the door of the room they were in was hustle and bustle and the stress that comes along with it but that they were safe exactly where they were. His wife and son in his arms, his mother and his father over his shoulder. Bradley knew it wouldn’t last forever. Beyond that door was also long days and time away from home. But as he looked into the eyes of his son and felt the warmth of his wife in his arms, he knew what family meant. Knew he would move heaven and earth. Knew nothing less than divine intervention could keep him from being with them. Nothing less.

[try-set-me-on-fire]

wip game: should we talk about the weather 👀

Hehehehehehe big bang fic!!! Hmm I’ll share the pitch I gave to the event artists (hehehe…)

In a world where certain individuals are capable of sharing their own instincts and feelings — and even occasionally physical strength — with their likewise capable partners, Eddie and Buck, and Hen and Chim are what people sometimes call congeneric minds. It comes in handy in a high stakes profession like firefighting to have two people in such synchronization, able to warn each other of danger without ever having to waste time opening their mouths to speak.

Being so in sync with someone doesn’t necessarily mean smooth sailing communication however. Recently back at work after taking time off post-shooting, Eddie worries about Buck and how he’s been dealing with the events of the last year (last several years, really) but doesn’t know how to bring it up when he himself has always kind of encouraged them to move past life changing events with little discussion. While Hen and Chim are getting along just fine, Chimney and Maddie are dancing around each other and their recent breakup, and Hen feels trapped between disappointing her mother or her wife while being roped into backyard wedding planning.

With danger ever present on the job and turmoil seemingly always bubbling outside it, will everyone find the right words before it’s too late?

AKA what if people could be drift compatible in regular life without giant robots, and they’re all disasters at communicating anyway

And here’s a snippet!

Eddie doesn’t get around to talking to Buck till a week later. They’re in Eddie’s house again, but Buck has started to look exhausted everywhere, all the time, nothing special anymore about the way his eyelids droop when he walks in through this specific door. It’s worse than usual today. They had a hell of a long call — a rockslide down on the PCH, outside of their usual range but it was bad enough that the responding station had called for any back up they could possibly get — and Eddie’s wrist and shoulders and whole damn body aches from the hours of grueling work. Buck has to be feeling it, too. Eddie heads right to the bathroom, grabbing the tube of arnica gel that keeps this household running some days.

He doesn’t know how to bring anything up. We need to talk feels as ridiculous as it does dire. That’s a movie script confrontation, as contrived and meaningless as it’s not you, it’s me, or I’m sorry for your loss. Buck is his best friend, and also their fucking hearts beat in rhythm. He can do better.

“My leg hurts sometimes,” is what ends up coming out of his mouth when he gets back to the living room. Your ache is mine. A little poetic, but whatever. It gets the point across. Share it with me, please. We already do, so why are you hiding it?

Buck is sprawled on the floor next to the couch, Eddie isn’t sure why. He looks up at him silently for a few moments, and then rubs at his shoulder. Answer enough. Eddie barely has to look as he tosses him the gel, sure Buck will catch it as Eddie sits on the couch with a sigh. He watches Buck, still prone, hike up his pant leg and start massaging arnica into his calf muscles.

“Are you… doing okay?” It feels stupid to say.

Buck looks at him like it’s stupid to hear, too. His fingers drum a few times over one of the jagged lines still drawn up his shin. “‘M fine, Eds. Just a long day.”

Eddie purses his lips, shaking his head back and forth in a slow roll against the back of the couch. “You know that’s not what I meant.” His hand lifts up to catch the tossed arnica without thinking about it. He looks down at Buck, sprawled out, looking back up at him. “I want to… know that you’re okay. And, Buck, I’m here if you’re not.”

Buck sits up with a sigh that’s more petulant and annoyed than Eddie wishes it was. He rests his chin on his bent knee. “I know. But I’m- I’ll be fine. Stop worrying.”

Eddie snorts at that. “Oh, yeah, that’s something I’m great at.”

Buck’s smile grows so tenderly across his face. “I know.” He twitches his right pointer finger three times and Eddie’s moves involuntarily with he tug. “Come on,” he says, standing up with a groan. “Let’s make the pizza.”

They’d bought the ingredients together — sort of together, Buck on the phone at the grocery store and Eddie and Chris shouting requests down the line — earlier that week, and Chris will be home soon from a friend’s house and likely starving from the hard work of being a twelve year old all day long. He’s old enough that the novelty of making the pizza himself is less appealing than being able to immediately eat it, even if Buck had made sad faces as he’d relayed his instructions to make it in his absence. And this is all a distraction, Eddie knows it is, but Buck is smiling down at him and his finger goes tug, tug, tug, and he lets him get away with it.

[snailsandpuppy-dogtails]

I Do, Do You? chapter 2

WC: ~3,500 of fluff and small angst. Gratuitous use of figurative language It's probably a better read over on AO3

~After one short week, the wedding day has arrived! Our hopeful couples will finally come face to face with their betrotheds.~

Voiceover: “First impressions are everything, they are the standard by which we tell people to hold us. Whether they choose to believe it or not, how this first meeting goes will set the tone for their future interactions. How they present themselves and how they handle themselves today will create the foundation of the schema by which their partners view them and their relationships.”

Penelope looks around at the venue. The outdoor ceremony and reception are in a few hours; sunset, taking advantage of that very desired “golden hour” for filming and photos and then dining and dancing under the stars.

Production has chosen a neatly manicured grassy lawn bordered by maple and beech trees, the finely kept backyard to some historic Virginia property. Fairy lights crisscross and swoop above, and a rectangular marble dance floor is set into the middle of the area, later to be surrounded by long picnic tables lined with tealights and eucalyptus wreaths, but now holds rows of dark wood bench seating for wedding guests.

She likes the romantic details, clearly imagining the warm amber glow of the orbs above mixing with the soft twinkle of stars and lightning bugs, the sweet smell the humid night air will pull from the trees. The only disappointment is the shadowy figure her mind keeps drawing in place of a groom. Will he like her? Will she like him?

Workers and crew are buzzing around constructing the rose and laurel arch, arranging the petal carpet they’ll walk down, and setting up camera and microphone equipment. Penelope watches, staving off the same nerves she’s been mostly successful at ignoring all week preparing with dress, shoe, and accessory shopping, trying to write vows for someone she doesn't know, and deciding on the finer details of nails, makeup, and hair. This first impression could be the most important of her life, and while she wants to knock everyone’s socks off, she also wants to be as true to herself as possible. But with the day finally here and everything finally decided on, there’s nothing left to take her mind off what she’s about to do.

—-

Violins strike in the distance, Penelope squeezes her eyes shut swallowing down the acid rising in her throat, A hand tightens around her shoulder. “Pen? It’s time…”

Inhaling deeply, she opens her eyes, taking one last look in the mirror, checking her dress.

It’s a unique trumpet style gown made of a substantial, buttery, white matte silk satin, woven throughout with silvery blue threads that cast a glow. The plunging sweetheart neckline sweeps up into delicate off-the-shoulder illusion straps. The fine, white organic pattern seemingly floating across her décolletage isn’t so much what she’d call lace, but rather piped icing. The bodice fits like a dream, cupping her breast, and further down, clings to her hips, then flares out in a wide trumpet mid-thigh with five corners around the hem that kick up in swift peaks, every step making it look like the daturas her mom kept paintings of all over the house.

She knew the moment she tried it on it was meant for her, the top half a delicious, cakey confection, the bottom half an intoxicating and deadly flower.

“To hell with the show,” a deep cool voice calls from the door, “say the word and I’ll have us down the road in five seconds. Savannah took a separate car just in case…but you are a Goddess, any man would be lucky to find you walking up that aisle to him”

Penelope smirks, eyes still trained on her own figure, “Are you finally suggesting we run away together?”

“Penelope Garcia, it is your wedding day, behave.” he chides.

Her eyes connect with Derek’s, mischievous and smoldering, then JJ’s over her shoulder, she smiles, taking the bouquet of tall sunflowers from the dresser next to her, linking an arm with JJ’s. Something about this feels right. Something she can’t put her finger on. Or at least that’s what she’s telling herself. “Lead the way, my lady love.”

—--

There’s a light knock, fine knuckles rapping on wood. Luke, Matt, and Phil turn as Tara answers the door.

Emily’s standing in the doorway meeting them all with an apologetic look, her eyes cutting to Luke. They know what it means– new case. Killers don’t stop just because it’s inconvenient timing for agents.

“Look, you still have some vacation accrued…” she starts, “I’d approve the time off.” But he hears the ‘but’ in her voice, he knows the pressure they’re under, and with Reid away on family business, they’re already a man down.

He looks around the room at his friends and sighs, “No. I couldn’t leave all the fun to Matt and Tara. Do I at least get to see my bride walk down the aisle before informing her I’m ditching her?”

Coming from anyone else it would sound snide, but she knows he means it. She feels guilty that he means it.

“I’ll give you 24 hours to work some of that charm, you can meet us in Flagstaff tomorrow, my gift. I wouldn’t want her to dislike me immediately, but you know how time sensitive these things are.” She’s grinning, he can see the relief on her face, how the corners of her eyes loosen.

He wants to be mad. She of all people knows why he’s doing this, they’ve had this discussion specifically, but he can’t be mad, ultimately it’s his decision. He’s already retreating into the comfortable, he’s already going for the known unknown and making excuses for his choices. He wants to be mad, but he can only be mad at himself.

Phil pours another shot of amber liquid into a small glass and holds it out, “Come on, Emily, we were just about to toast the happy groom.”

—

He’s anxious, nervous, excited…and happy… If he doesn’t think about what he has to do tomorrow. He doesn’t know half the people here, and he won’t know the person standing up next to him, but he finds none of that really matters. What he knows is she’s adventurous, willing to take a risk, and hopefully, wants love, too.

Luke looks at the crowd of people that have gathered, his family and friends on one side, hers on the other.

His mom and sister, Isabella, and her two boys and husband are in the front row, Tara, Emily, Matt, Kiristy, and all their kids right behind them. He catches Matt’s small smile, a small comfort, before he quickly flickers back to her side, not wanting to be caught staring, but unable to resist the work part of him kicking in.

The people in her front row are three men and a woman. A petite blonde in a short flowing blue dress, her sister? is sitting next to a stern-faced black man in a charcoal suit husband? They’re both wearing rings, but… no. Next to him is an older man in a gray button down and black slacks, and next to him on the end closest to the aisle is a younger hispanic guy. An odd collection of family. The younger man doesn’t appear to share many facial features with the older man next to him or the blonde, in fact none of them look related at all, but they all sit like family, they all��act like family. Behind them a woman in a dusty pink dress sits with a small boy playing with two blonde boys next to him, and beside them is a tired looking white man. Again, they don’t look like a family, but are acting like one. Her family and friends seemingly intertwined, the line indiscernible.

He’s about to say something, introduce himself, ease the building tension he can feel between the guests and the situation, her front row and himself, when a ladybug lands on the back of his clasped hands.

The tickle distracts him, and instantly, looking down, good luck springs in his mind. Looking up, he makes eye contact with his sister and holds out his left hand with the scarlet beetle vibrating its wings on his ring finger for her to see. He stays silent not wanting to startle it and send it off. As he does, the violins strike and procession music begins, the beetle, as if on cue, flys away.

Luke follows it’s ascent briefly down the aisle, and then his eyes land on a figure silhouetted behind doors in the distance, and as they do, a placid calmness takes over. There was nothing to worry about, his bride, his wife, his person, was waiting. Long ago he’d made his peace with fate, as a soldier you have to, things would work out the way they were meant to…some days it just took a small reminder.

—

The distance isn’t long, but she feels miles away, this striking woman walking towards him. There’s gasps and howls, applause and awes from in front of him as guests catch his expression and follow his line of sight.

Flowing blonde hair billows in gentle waves with her veil, her dress dances at her feet. His eyes drink her up and take in every detail, every curve, every angle and every texture. She’s wearing the most radiant shade of white, it’s beautiful and unusual, and all he can think is that she looks like the moonflowers he’d spend hours watching twirl, hidden under the shade of their branches as a kid in his grandmother’s backyard. She looks like memories long forgotten and mysteries veiled in night’s shadow and he’s more than intrigued and more than drawn and he’s more than wanting to take her in his arms and spin her until they’re both dizzy, like the flowers used to make him feel. And he feels, again, more than he’s ever felt, that this must be fate.

His gaze is intense, she’s been trying to hold it the whole way, caught in how the setting sun reflects off his bright eyes making them seem as crystal as fresh cracked rootbeer candy. He’s absolutely gorgeous, stunning, the living embodiment of “tall, dark, and handsome,” but there’s not a streak of darkness she can detect in his eyes shining back at her or his dimpled crooked smile bright like a lighthouse. She kicks up rose petals floating down the aisle, and as dumb as it sounds, in that moment she feels she like a ship lost at sea, and he, this stranger, is the beacon of light leading her to safe harbor…or a siren threatening to send her crashing into the sharp rocks under.

His smile starts off small, but the closer she gets the bigger it becomes, toothy and consuming, and she can feel hers by contrast shrinking smaller and smaller, the pit in her stomach, dormant, suddenly swelling larger and larger.

Now in front of him, so close, all these eyes, attention on them, on her, his attention on her- she breaks away looking down as discomfort shyness? takes over.

Too handsome, don’t stare. Looking at someone this close this long is wrong, like staring at the sun. Too much, try to focus.

But this is him! The man you’re marrying. You’re not reserved! You, Penelope Garcia, are confident and secure and you're every bit as shine worthy. Look. At. Him.

It’s dead quiet, awkward, she’s looking away, looking down, she won’t look at him. He wants to pull her back to where they were a moment ago, to alleviate whatever distress she’s feeling, to let her know they’re in this together. That she can trust him. “Hey,” he reigns in his stupidly large smile, heavily forcing it into a more acceptable, smaller thing and gently takes hold of her bent elbows, thumbs stroking her soft arms in a way he hopes she finds soothing, because he certainly does.

His palms are warm and the pads of his thumbs are rough, the touch sending sparks flying up her arms and through her chest, a sensation like thrusting on the light, but she still can’t will herself to look from the flowers in her hands.

Dipping a little, determined to draw her back, Luke introduces himself quietly, “I’m Luke.”

“HE SAID HIS NAME IS LUKE” is yelled to the guests by the man closest to the bride, some laugh. Penelope straightens up instantly, whipping around, “Carlos!” is hissed in warning, and the older man next to ‘Carlos’ smacks his bicep. Carlos only smiles, “Look at Luke, sis, he’s the one you’re marrying” then winks.

Penelope glares, but turns back, apricot lips spreading, tension eased, “I’m Penelope, nice to meet you, Luke.”

And just like that his megawatt smile is once again firmly in place, grinning at her like she’d just unveiled the secrets of the universe. “Nice to meet you, Penelope,” he nods, then looking over her shoulder, adds, “And you, Carlos.”

Penelope’s vows had been funny and charming, she was effortlessly engaging and endearing. Luke felt his own paled in comparison, but there wasn’t much he could do about it now. This next part was where he laid his cards, this part had been a point of contention in the family, his mother nixing it, Isabella taking Luke’s side, her husband taking their mother’s…

He shifts his weight as he makes eye contact over the paper, tucking it away, he takes Penelope’s hands. Looking into a stranger’s eyes shouldn’t be this comforting, but what he finds when he looks at her feels like the safest parts of himself. He isn’t sure just how long he’s been standing there getting lost in thought, or what his face is doing, but he notices a fresh blush on her cheeks and feels her give his fingers a squeeze prompting him to go on.

Playing it cool was apparently completely off the table.

Luke clears his throat and smirks, continuing, “Before we uh…before we go on, I want to be upfront and say, someone very important to me was left out of today’s ceremony, Roxy. I wanted her here, but some people weren’t sure how you’d react…I was going to have her stay home so you, my bride,” and he can’t help but smile when he says it, noticing how she smiles too, “didn’t get scared off, but she’s a big part of my life, I’d do anything for her, she’s my girl, my everything…I’m hoping you can make room for her in a similar way, eventually.”

As the words come out he sees the shift in her expression, eyes widening, jaw slightly dropping before resuming the indulgent smile, her hands becoming clammy and her body pulling away. The tell tale signs of panic and fear. It isn’t what she thinks-

Or at least he hopes it isn’t what she thinks. “Leaving her out feels like lying, so my friend Phil did me a favor and picked her up about an hour ago…Sorry, ma.” he says as he turns, then calls down the aisle in a deep commanding voice, “Roxy, com’on”

Penelope blinks and rocks back, jerking to face the same direction he is.

There’s no way he calls his kid like that, right?

Out from behind the left row comes a wolfish looking happy hound now prancing down the aisle, a dark green bow tied around her neck.

Trotting up to Luke, she stops short sitting on her haunches.

“This is Roxy,” Luke says before kneeling and fiddling with the bow.

Following suit instantly, Penelope kneels too, hands petting and face nuzzling her head. “She’s your dog? Roxy’s a dog Oh hello, you sweet girl.” she coos.

Rings free from the knot on her bow, Luke takes Penelope in at a much closer range, nose nearly brushing her cheek, her eyes scrunched up with the biggest smile he’s seen on her yet and it’s for his girl, it’s for Roxy. His lungs seize, momentarily unable to breathe, his heart clenching and his stomach flipping. He couldn’t have dreamed a better reaction, or a more beautiful sight.

Pocketing the rings, Luke stands, offering his hands to help his new bride back up, “We’ve got one last part to this, if you still want to…”

Slipping her hands into his, letting him right her, she agrees, “I do, do you?”

“-Aht.” the officiant cuts them off, “That’s my job.”

He notices her hand is trembling, or maybe it’s his holding hers unsteady, he’s so focused on not letting the emerald ring slip from his fingers he’s not sure what the rest of him is doing. Luke looks down, and it’s both, both of them shaking and he lets out a little breath. She’s just as nervous as he is. He notices her nails then, not an inch of her left unadorned, had been painted with white flowers.

Women appreciate it when you notice the details, mijo, calls in his head, his grandfather’s voice, compliment your bride.

“Perfection down to the tips of your fingers…I like your nails.” He says it quietly, something just for them, something the mic doesn’t even pic up on.

“Oh, thanks,” Penelope’s hand, instinctively jerking away, is held fast by Luke’s, “just don’t look too closely, I was up pretty late practicing my fingering techniques-” She says it loud and clear, a dismissive thought explaining away the chips at the edges. Loud gasps from who she assumes are his guests, and a deep “Oh shit” followed by giggles can be heard from hers. Luke chokes and blushes, letting go of her hands to cover his face, a weakly chuckled “oh my god” slipping between his fingers.

“-no! No.” Penelope corrects sternly to Luke and then the guests, praying the entendre not stick, urging they know it’s a misunderstanding. She grabs his wrist pulling down an arm covering his face, “-for my clarinet!” she explains, “Which I play!” then to the crowd, begging they understand, “My clarinet. I play the clarinet.” Her cheeks burn. She can’t believe she just did that in front of this beautiful man, in front of his family, in front of cameras.

Luke, eyes still shimmering with amusement, body shaking with laughter, nods, not trusting himself to look up. “Whatever you say,” he hums.

She shakes his wrists, pleading, “No- I’m serious,”

He does his best to straighten out his face, to let her know he’s taking her seriously, swallows and looks her in the eye, “I believe you.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he agrees.

The commotion dies down, guests ready for things to move on.

Everything else goes smoothly, the rings slide on (though she’s sure her fingers have swollen from stress), and they’re beautiful, and they fit.

They each breathe a sighing smile when they look between their newly adorned hands, but this is it, their first kiss, she and her new stranger. Butterflies suddenly blossom and take flight, Penelope watches as he moves in, wondering how this fine, adorable and impossibly perfect man will kiss her, if she’ll have to cover their faces with her veil, a kiss just as electric as she’s feeling from his fingers. Her eyes catch his, dipping briefly, and jump back up, he’s so close, her mouth parts…

And then he misses.

No.

Doesn’t miss.

He didn’t kiss her.

He kisses her cheek, and a terrible little thought flickers through her mind:

He doesn’t like you.

Delusional girl, you’re not his type.

Already this man, her husband, is rejecting her.

But despite the disappointment, she can’t help instinctively leaning in, eyes closing, gently rising on her toes and pressing her cheek to his lips and damn does she want that feeling just a little more south. He smells like heaven and feels divine, her fingers curl on his biceps and she thinks she feels his tighten on her waist. His lips are full and soft and firm. The musculature there in that brief contact enough to make her fantasize, even here in front of all these people, and for the first time she’s suddenly overwhelmed with the possibility that she’s made a massive mistake.

Fudge, Penelope, what did you get yourself into?!

When it’s time to ‘kiss the bride’, his anxiety comes back. He wants to kiss her, wants to feel the rush and pull of those playful, funny, pink lips, but he isn’t sure she wants that, if she’s ready for that, isn’t sure what’s right to do… kiss a stranger in front of her family? Kiss his wife in front of her family? Asking would ruin the moment, so instead, he makes a split second decision, ducking for her cheek.

The chaste option.

He tried to read her body language but couldn’t make up his mind, feeling hope, personal desires, might be playing a part, it just disappoints himself. He feels her pressing into his lips and gripping his arms, but everything about this has him mixed up, he can’t read if it was a welcome invitation or a move to control the distance.

At least it wasn’t a hug.