#Yeah the coming out scene was nice. The bachelor party was nice.

[userautumn]

Everyone on the other side of the fandom is so busy trying to own the BTs to realize that we haven't had a really GOOD Buddie scene since Season 6.

[onmyyan]

i have some brain rot about the delmonts so i’m gonna unload my thoughts about it here: the boys with a stripper/pole dancer darling.

to me, how they feel about it/react is on a spectrum and it’s easier to write like that so walk with me

ricky is (imo, so maybe i’m wrong) one of the least likely of the bros to go voluntarily to a place like this. it’s just not really his scene and he finds the environment to be superficial. but when one of his business partners on meeting at a strip club (to avoid any rivals hearing in on their deal) he begrudgingly goes solely with the goal of sealing this deal/partnership, saving face by showing up, and then heading out. he’s largely uninterested in the girls until one of the men he’s dealing with calls over y/n to give ricky a private show. to commemorate the deal you know? what no one, not even ricky, would think would happen is how quickly and hard he becomes down BAD for y/n. the moment he laid eyes on her in her little red number that accentuated her best features (which is all of them in ricky’s opinion), he knew he was a total goner. and the little hi and giggle that y/n gives him before grabbing his larger hand in hers to lead him to the room? yeah, no doubt, he would be coming back to this place as often as he could, and only ask for y/n.

caspian/gabe are sweet and nice boys who doesn’t usually go to these types of places because they drink respect women juice and don’t want to objectify women like that (mom would kill them), but when his friends invite him for a celebration/bachelor’s party, he plans on popping in, getting a drink, and dipping before they notice he’s gone. but he doesn’t account for how spellbound he would be when y/n comes out in her skimpy outfit (coincidence that it’s his favorite color? he doesn’t think so) with fuck me heels that could poke a man’s eye out. when earned it by the weeknd starts playing and y/n starts her little routine, he knows that he needs to know every single thing about her like yesterday. his friends notice how infatuated he is with her and call y/n to come over for a lap dance for the big guy. he has to play it cool and focuses all of his energy in not getting hard while y/n grinds on his lap and shove her chest in face. yeah the obsession process got speed run by 5 million steps with the way she worked her magic on him.

marcos/manny are on the opposite end of the spectrum compared to ricky. anywhere there’s a good time to be had, they’ll be there. an abandoned warehouse in the seedy part of town? if there’s good drinks and music, one of them, if not both, are there in a heartbeat. they’ve been to strip clubs and they actually think it’s fun! anyways, they have some friends who are independently wealthy (translation: they sell drugs, in the business of killing people, or other shady stuff), so they get to go some nice clubs/venues. it’s at one of these venues where some hired strippers they got for the party - both guys and girls - start performing. marcos/manny are having as much as anyone else in the party, but it wasn’t anything to write home about for him. that is, until y/n comes out in very strategically placed strings and mesh. he doesn’t know what to do with himself when y/n starts the routine with do i wanna know by arctic monkeys (slowed down). what he DOES know is that he will be buying her a drink to get to know her inside (if he plays his cards right-) and out.

sorry for the long ranting, but i’ve been listening to a lot of those kinds of songs while doing homework, and the idea was rattling around in my head. hope you’re doing well <3

Spot tf on with the characterization babes like you nailed it and this was such a fun read thank you for submitting I adore it so much

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.89 Lose control

During our conversation about pre-wedding activities, Sophia and I found the idea of having a party appealing, but we had reservations about the traditional bachelor and bachelorette party. I'd never been to one, but I'd heard stories about them. Getting wasted and dancing with other women didn't appeal to me at all. My party didn't have to follow that formula; we could spend the night however I wanted. But the real reason we were anxious was because we both we both had a small circle of friends. We loved kicking it with our respective squads, but a party with just one or two sims wouldn't be lit.

"What if we did a joint co-ed party?" she offered.

That was the most brilliant idea, and it relieved us both. I mean, the whole point of a bachelor/bachelorette party was just to hang out with friends and have a good time, right? Who's to say we couldn't do that together? Our friends and their plus ones were enough sims for a fun, intimate party.

We tried to take Mama's advice and not show up early this time and walked in with the first wave. Heh, if Sophia had agreed to my offer earlier, we could have been super late, but let's not dwell on that. While getting a drink, I saw Alessia. I was low-key pissed, to be honest. Not enough to make a scene or even snub her all night, but we were definitely not okay.

Dub snuck up on me, and I almost dropped my drink.

"This is a nice place," he said. "The food selection is...interesting."

"Yeah. I guess I should have been more specific when I requested light refreshments."

"It's all good. Nothing like a little natural sugar to get you pumped up!"

"That's right. I expect to see everyone dancing, Dubstep."

"Dubstep??"

"Yeah! I think it's about time I gave you a nickname."

"But Dubstep though? I can't stand that music! It's everywhere at home!"

"Sorry, dude. I'm not often this clever. It's sticking!"

"Ugh! You better be glad your name can only be shortened, or I'd come up with something annoying for you too!"

"HA! Thank you, granddad I never met, for a boring name."

"Oh, hi Dub," Sophia said. "Thanks for coming!"

"Of course I'd come. I gotta make sure my boy Luc stays out of trouble!"

Sophia laughed.

"That's kind of you, but totally unnecessary."

I loved she said that. We had several conversations about my female friends, and she always expressed her acceptance of them. I believed her, but part of me wondered if she was actually cool with it or just trying to avoid conflict. Those conversations triggered her sometimes, and I knew she was still dealing with scars her ex-trash man inflicted. I never gave her a reason to doubt me, and I intended to keep it that way. Even so, her display of trust touched me deeply.

Less and Justin were chilling in the corner, probably relieved that I was busy. Did they keep in touch? Probably not. Regardless, I was happy they maintained a small connection, even though I still believed he was much too old for her. Once Rashidah and her husband showed up, Sophia hit the dance floor and got the party going. I sat down and watched her, mesmerized by the thought that tomorrow she would be my wife.

Chi Chi latched onto Maia as soon as she arrived and did not let her go. When Dub noticed, he not-so-casually got closer and watched their every move. I don't know why I thought it was funny, but I laughed anyway. Seeing him transition through this relationship, going from uncertainty about pursuing it to worrying about someone encroaching on them, was fun to watch. I knew Chi Chi was harmless, but he didn't, so I didn't laugh too hard. Still, what was Maia thinking? She was so gracious to endure all that talking for two nights straight. I knew all too well how draining it could be, trying to keep up with all the words that flew out of her mouth.

I eventually finished my drink and got out there to shake it with everyone. Poor Dub didn't even take one step and spent the whole night watching Maia and Chi Chi. I made a mental note to talk to him about it before we left, so it didn't become a big deal later on.

The fruity drinks were lame, so I invited everyone to the bar downstairs and bought us a round. The thumping bass from the DJ downstairs reverberated through the walls, injecting a surge of energy into our group. Moving the party downstairs was a genius move. The room was buzzing with excitement. Lively conversations and laughter filled the air. In the midst of all the excitement, I spotted Less trying to slip away, but I quickly caught her eye and called her out.

"Where were you last night?"

"What?"

"The engagement dinner? You didn't show."

She shrugged.

"I didn't want to go."

I needed a moment before replying, because her response struck a nerve. Her indifference was no stranger to me; I'd been dealing with it my whole life. It annoyed me then, and triple annoyed me now. I usually coped with it by ignoring her, but this was something I could not shrug off.

"You couldn't at least call and tell me you weren't coming?"

"I guess. Why are you so upset? You had the dinner and now this party. They're pretty much the same thing, so why do I have to come to both?"

I was teetering on the edge of losing my cool, and it caught me off guard. Despite all the challenges I faced in my life, I could never truly feel angry. I could've been mad at Dad taking us away from Mama, but I was just a little kid and more scared than anything. I couldn't bring myself to be angry with Mama for breaking up our family because my love for her was too strong. Less always got on my nerves, and I could've been mad at her countless times, but I felt pressured to always be in control as the oldest, especially since she always copied me. I just wanted to experience losing control for once, but was that the moment to waste my chance? In the grand scheme of things, it wasn't that serious. Less was just being Less, and as much as it pained me to overlook it again, I just took a few deep breaths and re-centered myself before responding.

"You're my sim of honor, Less. Does that even mean anything to you? We were doing toasts, and you weren't there. Dub did a toast for me, and we just met. Maybe I should have asked him or Maira to be my sim of honor."

"I'm sorry, Luca! I thought it was just a casual dinner or something. I didn't think you'd be mad."

I sighed and shook my head at her.

"You never do, Less."

Speaking of Dub, I saw him stewing on the sidelines, so I let Less go and went to de-escalate him.

"Am I crazy?" he asked as I sat down. "Is she really that bold that she would try to take my girl in front of my face?"

I was glad to have something comical to take my mind off my annoying sister.

"She's harmless, man. A bit of a flirt, yes, and she talks a lot, but she would never do that to you. She's sweet."

"Brooo! The talking! I thought maybe she liked me too because she had me hemmed up all night last night. I barely escaped in time to make a toast!"

I laughed.

"Believe me...I am aware. I feel like she has a word quota she has to reach every day or she'll explode or something."

"Yeah, and she's spending it all on us!"

"Seriously... But for real...I really appreciate you doing that last night. My sister should have been the one making that toast, but she wasn't there, and that really hurt my feelings."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I got you, bro. Whatever you need."

"I appreciate that, Dubstep."

"HEY!"

Dub and Maia by @mysimsloveaffair

[deluweil]

Lol.. first they promote the hell out of things only to cut it and then they go and delete critical comments on Insta... nicely done ABC.

Guess someone had to do overtime to delete over 500 comments on the Oliver reel. First I checked it was over 700, then suddenly you couldn't click on the answers anymore and now there are about 240 comments left.

Only a few about the cut karaoke. A lot where about how they bait and keep the transphobe around. All those seem to be gone now.

I have a bad feeling about this.

LOL yeah, PR team made a big boo-boo 😂

Not the first time, mind you, Fox used to make the same mistakes I wonder if these are the same ppl.

Also they are not responsible for the cuts, they work with what they get from the director and producer along with showrunner's descision.

Considering Oliver was talking about his favorite parts being filmed at the bachelor party and how much fun they had and how much they drank just to get through that karaoke scene, I'm guessing all cuts were made last minute and the responsibility is less on the PR ppl and more on the decision makers who has been known to be pathological liars over the years.

Moderation in the comments of a tv show is good to a degree imo, I've seen many pages on IG of big soccer teams and tv shows where the comments aren't moderated and it all borders on harassment and negative vibes between the fans themselves and the actors see it more than the decision makers anyway and the ppl talk about why they take a step back from social media.

Do I want the Marisol actress on the show? absolutely not, and that was before I found out about her bad joke on ig. - If you're a public figure and want to get work (in the US at least, where I come from if they fired every idiot who opens their mouth out of turn everybody would be out of a job) you keep your mouth shut and keep your account clean, she only has herself to blame for the hate she gets, especially considering that she didn't even apologize.

But sadly, she is here, crossing my fingers she won't be for long, not only because she's is a bad person, but also because her character is so lukewarm and trivial it's bordering on the absurd.

I am sad for Ryan and Oliver because they seemed so excited about these scenes in the bachelor party and the put in a LOT of effort into it.

BUT if that means the episode of Madney wedding focuses on Madney and nothing else, I am more than okay with that.

That is why you make the bachelor party in a separate episode, or like in CF in Mouch's party, you see them in the elevator dreading what may come, the get to the door figuring out that they've been played and that it is going to be a kick-ass party - the door closes- and opens up again in the morning and they all step exhausted and hungover into the elevator where it's clear the party was epic!

In 10 episodes season, you need to plan out, in advance, your time and scenes carefully, clearly it doesn't happen on 911,

My biggest fear is that from the hour and 15 minutes that were cut into 43 minutes, that the episode would feel rushed and not have emotional impact a Madney wedding should induce and maybe it would have been better if they cut guest stars storylines and calls down to make more room for a proper ceremony.

A kidnapping at this point feels like an overkill, they could have gone for a rough and dangerous call before the wedding and after everyone walk away, they are seen later that day or the next. at the wedding with a beautiful ceremony, like in Cruz's wedding in CF.

I really hope this episode focuses on Madney, everything else is completely unnecessary, I would be pissed if this episode focused more on other ships and take the spotlight off of Madney.

And the PR team should be handed the RIGHT materials in order to make a valid promo and post the right promotional pictures because otherwise it looks like they're deceiving the fans on purpose and that could be the reason why ppl would stop watching the show, ppl don't like to be played for fools.

Now, knowing that everything we were told we'll see was cut, and that final cut was made last second and SO much was cut, I have a bad feeling too, I am hoping we are both wrong. Because they can't afford another 6x18 episode - the format should be better with the move to abc not stay just as bad.

[lemotmo]

My 7X06 thoughts and observations

I watched 7x06 and these are my thought and observations as I was watching the episode.

Disclaimer: This episode is mainly about Madney, but there is quite some Buddie and Bucktommy stuff as well, since they were prominently featured. Because of that I have tagged this post ‘bucktommy’ and ‘buddie’. Now, I’m a Buddie shipper who is sure that Buddie will happen on the show. Doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate Buck’s journey so far and I can definitely see Tommy’s importance in that journey. But I did watch this episode with Buddie in mind. So, if you don’t like that, don’t read. Also, please don’t hate on me in my ask or in the comments. I believe in ‘Ship and let ship’ and I respect people shipping different things than I do. Please show me the same respect by not being mean. Thank you.

1. The opening scene is so lovely. What a beautiful venue to get married in. I somehow suspect that they won’t get married there in the end. I love Maddie’s wedding dress. It really suits her character.

Got to love Hen giving Buck and Eddie the ‘what the f*ck’ look when they walk in. They look so rough.

‘Where is Chimney?’ Maddie’s face. Noooo!

YAY! Flashback!

2. Ah, the Buck, Eddie and Tommy scene at the bachelor’s party. I’ve already seen this seen before as a sneak peak.

I’m sorry, but yes… Eddie is a lot more bitchy towards Tommy here compared to episode 7x04. I wonder if it has to do with the fact that 7x04 was from Buck’s point of view? Just a thought.

I like how Eddie seems to be very accepting of Buck and Tommy dating. I know he said it wouldn’t change a thing, but in real life it sometimes does change things between friends and I’d hate for Eddie to be that guy. But he clearly isn’t.

So, whatever it is that causes Eddie to react a little passive-aggressively towards Tommy doesn’t have to do with them dating. He’s okay with that. Buck and Eddie have always just been Buck and Eddie. They’ve shared everything together by now. There’s this deep bond between them. That won’t change because his best friend is dating a guy.

I doubt that he himself knows why he does what he does when it comes to Buck. I’m convinced at this point that he has some very complicated emotions and feelings for Buck brewing underneath the surface, but he doesn’t really know what they mean

But the way he makes Buck think about the whole coming out at Madney’s wedding? *chef’s kiss*

As for Tommy. When he high fives Eddie it almost seems as if he is going for the ass-slap. That would have been very awkward in front of the guy you’re dating.

When Buck and Tommy hug, we can see Tommy give Buck an appreciatively once over. I mean… I can relate. Although Eddie is more to my taste, I have to admit. That pink suit does things to me.

I know that a lot of people are like: Tommy’s on call, he can’t wear anything 80’s. But he could have at least put in a little effort to do something. Maybe an 80’s clothing accent? Something small. It would have been so nice to do that for Buck. It’s only a detail, but it does stand out to me. This was a deliberate choice made by the writers. For what purpose? Not clear yet. But everything in TV-shows has a purpose. I’ve learned that over the years.

It's also interesting how they specifically had Tommy talking about henley’s and wearing one. A henley is definitely a typical Eddie thing as well. They keep comparing Tommy and Eddie. I’m not saying it has to mean anything, but it is very interesting from a narrative perspective.

I also love the way Tommy seems to experience the chaos that is Buck and Eddie for the first time. His head just swivels from right to left, not sure what to think. He also clearly picked up on some of that passive-aggressiveness Eddie was serving.

As for the direction’s choices in this scene? Again *chef’s kiss* The way they show Eddie in between Buck and Tommy? Ryan’s acting choices when delivering his lines? Yeah, something is brewing there. It’s small, but it’s there. It will all come back to the ‘My attention?’ line from 7x04 in the end. I can smell it.

3. Hen and Karen look gorgeous! And Ravi is there!!! Love Eddie’s side eye as Ravi eats a slider and Buck is angry at him.

What? Chimney didn’t want a party? Well, that explains a lot.

4. Oh my, Eddie is the one who suggests Crockett and Tubbs? And Buck’s little ‘absolutely!’ is sending me. He’s so happy.

Seriously though, why Crockett and Tubbs? They have been queer-coded ever since the 80’s. It does once again show how in tune Buck and Eddie are. They didn’t even have to discuss anything. Eddie knows Buck well enough to know he’ll love his suggestion and Buck trusts Eddie to be right in this. It’s beautiful.

5. Everyone is leaving the party? Seriously? Come one, Buck made the effort to organise all of it and you leave? And now Tommy has to leave for work too?

I love how they keep Eddie in the shot when everyone is leaving. He’s just sitting there, drinking and not budging. He’s determined to stay and Buck doesn’t question him staying for a second. He knows Eddie won’t leave.

6. Okay, the party is about to begin! Aaaah! This is so much fun! It’s cringe, but so much fun! The drinking, the way they are so in tune with each other, the hanging onto each other… I can’t. My poor Buddie heart won’t survive this.

No Eddie NOOOO! You can’t just force your way into that room! Wait, where is Chimney? Those people ripping off Eddie’s shirt is such a choice though. Interesting, very interesting.

Why is this scene so short? I wanted more of Buddie shenanigans!

7. Ah, the morning after. Another sneak peak that was released.

Well, that hotel room is completely ruined. Who is going to pay for that? I love that split second where Buck’s face is terrified that Eddie is dead or something.

Oh, did I spot a second of ‘Wow! Eddie’s naked chest. I shouldn't look at it.’ moment?

I repeat: Where is Chimney?

8. Maddie, my love! Oh, she seems so worried.

Oh, Chimney? What is going on? Does he have amnesia?

Nooooo, Chimney! Don’t trust this guy. I don’t trust this guy! What is going on? He is going to steal your car!!!

9. Oooh, Chimney flashback.

Nooo, Kevin. I’m crying now.

Something is going on with Chim. Please don’t give him a tumor or something! I would never forgive Tim for that.

He’s complaining about Buck wanting a bachelor’s party for him to the Lee’s.

10. What is going on???????? Oh, Maddie getting in action! You go girl!

Noooo, Doug?! Is he hallucinating? What is going on?

Illusion Doug needs to stop talking about Maddie like that! Asshole! Nooooo, don’t stab him!!!!

It’s not real! It’s not real! It’s not real!!!!!!

I love dispatch so much right now!

I want to reach into my screen and hug Chimney!

No Maddie no! Marrying you isn’t stressing him out! Thank you Hen for being the voice of reason!

He’s revisiting places he used to live. Interesting. It almost feels like another ‘Chimney begins.’

Go away Doug!

Go Athena! Go do your thing!

Hen is figuring things out! He’s forgotten 2 weeks of his life? Wow!

11. Ah, my two favourite idiots are back! 😊

There’s someone stuck in a vent. Ooooh, he sneezed in Chimney’s face. Bet he has a disease and Chimney caught it. That’s why he forgot everything. This guy thinks the girl is his fiancée, but she no longer is.

12. Buck and Eddie bringing clothes and food to Maddie. So cute.

Encephalites? Well well well!

Save Chimney now! Please!

Even when sick, he wants to help people. Chimney, how I love you!

13. Oh no, Buck… find him!!!! He needs help!!!!

Shut up Doug! Chimney, don’t listen to him. Go to Buck!

Shut up! Shut up! Shut up Doug!!!!

Yes baby, you’re supposed to be somewhere! Exactly!

Side note: The actor that plays Doug is legit scary as hell. It’s jarring, because he’s such a nice guy in real life and married to Jen as well. I love him.

No, don’t go to sleep!!!!!

Oh God, I’m crying so hard right now! Kevin!!! It’s Kevin! You tell hm Kevin! You tell him!!!

This is the best scene ever!!! I love this show!

Home, brother!!! Tears are legit streaming down my face right now.

14. He’s at the Lee’s. He’s safe.

Oh Maddie. I love you. Yes! He remembers!

Jee!!!!!

Yes, Maddie. You always find your way back to each other!

15. OOOOOH, hospital wedding!

I like how the Buckley parents are making an effort for Maddie.

The Lee’s are amazing.

This wedding is making me feel all the emotions! Bobby is officiating? YES!

THEY ARE MARRIED!!!!! YES!!!!!!

16. Tommy being all dirty, but still showing up to the wedding. I like that he made the effort for Chim and Buck.

Buck being high on love, walking right up to him and laying one on him. Good for him.

Look, I love that Buck has figured this out about himself and I love that he seems to be so happy at the moment. I even quite like Tommy. The real Tommy, not the one some people have made up out of thin air. He seems nice, but we know next to nothing about him. Right now all I know is that he definitely has a crush on Buck.

That being said though, I’m still not feeling the Bucktommy relationship. It’s all so… lackluster. No offence to the people who love them together and ship them together. I see where you’re coming from. I do. I just don’t personally feel it. I do appreciate that this is the path Buck is on right now, but I really don’t see it lasting very long.

Can’t help but notice that the line ‘And you did walk in the night. Slowly losing sight of the real thing’ plays in the background at the end of that kiss, while the shot changes to Christopher and Eddie eating cake (right at the moment when the singer sings: ‘the real thing’). Directional choices choices choices! I’m eyeing you 911!

Nooo! Not Buck coming out by looking all sooty after kissing Tommy! :D This is so typically Buck. He looks so happy! Hen is all like: It was about damn time! She knew!!!! Okay, if she has clocked him, she has to know there is something there with Eddie as well.

Ooooh, the Buckley parents don’t look all that happy. Don’t be bitches about this! I will throw hands if you two decide to be mean to Buck about him being bisexual. No, you know what? Maddie will take care of it for me. And then Eddie will weigh in as well. He’ll let loose all his bitchiness on you! Be aware!

17. Were Buck and Tommy a thing before my amnesia? :D I love how he just accepts it, no questions asked. Love that for Buck!

Why do they call me Chimney? Nooo, don’t cut the scene now! I want to know!

Conclusion: Oh man, what a ride this was. It was such a great episode, filled with great things. Madney is the best 911 couple I swear. I’m still on the Buddie train guys. After this episode even more than before. I can’t help it. Choices were made in this episode.

[thealmightyemprex]

Sci Fi Month :Futurama the LAte Phillip J Fry

Futurama is one of the best sci fi comedies I have ever seen.For those who dont know the show follows delivery guy Philllip J Fry,who ends up cryogenically frozen waking up in the 3000's,where he befriends the robot Bender and slowly falls for Leela,a badass one eyed mutant ,as all three work for Frys eccentric mad scientist realative Professor Farnsworth .Now the show has been brought from the brink a few times ,Im mostly familiar with the early years of the show on Fox (Yeah the show has been canceled and brought back serval times,first 4 years on fox ,then it was a string of direct to DVD movies,then a few years on Comedy Central and recently its been brought back on Hulu ) so for this review I decided to look at a well liked episode from the Comedy Central days I hadnt seen ,The Late Phillip J Fry

In this episode that aired in 2010,Fry (Billy West ) after being late for a date with Leela(Katey Segal) promises to treat her to a nice birthday dinner,only for him ,the Professor (Also Billy West ) and Bender (John Dimagio) to be flung into the future while testing out a time machine.....That can only go forward ,with Leela assuming the three were killed at a bachelor party Bender wanted to go too

This episode is classic Futrama ,being a fun twist on a sci fi concept ,with the shows signature balance of cynacism and heart .Theres some fun gags ,the Leela and Fry stuff is sweet,and I like the twists .My favorite scene is when the trio come to the end of the universe,and decide to ride it out,drinking beers as they watch the end.Only nitpick is Bender maybe a bit to overbearing in this episode,but other then that it was a solid funny watch

@ariel-seagull-wings @countesspetofi @the-blue-fairie @themousefromfantasyland @theancientvaleofsoulmaking @amalthea9 @minimumheadroom @angelixgutz @princesssarisa @filmcityworld1

[sil-te-plait-tue-moi]

Wedding-seasonal depression.

Quick summary: What if Pierce actually did get married to Wu Mei way back when in the second season? You and Jeff are both struggling to come to terms with the fact that this is Pierce’s eighth time getting married, while you’re both still sad and single and alone. You decide to take your frustrations out on each other.

Word count: 7.8K

Warnings: SMUT (you have been warned, this is essentially porn with a lil’ plot), but it's not like super kinky; lots of swearing; first time writing second-person, so buckle up, I guess; kind of angsty (??); many suppressed feels.

A/N: Hey, guys, what’s up 😃🌈🦶! Uhhhh, I know this fic is a little random, but I’ve literally had this story in my drafts for six months. Since then, I have finished the entire Community show and have brought you this gem of a smut fic for Jeff Winger (particularly Jeff Winger with a fuckin’ beard 😩😩😩 he’s such an asshole). Please excuse my horrible attempts at dirty talk. Also, this is the first fic I’ve written in second person, soooooo I’m sorry if it’s, like, bad. Okay, enjoy!! :)))

***

You know, the wedding is perfectly nice. You have nothing against weddings. Apart from the strangely sexist ceremonies (as Britta will agree), the giving away of the daughter to her new owner kind of thing, the virginal unveiling thing, they’re perfectly fine. There’s free alcohol, free food, dancing, friends – sounds pretty nice at first, doesn’t it? Yeah, you’d think that, wouldn’t you? Except, now, the only kind of enjoyment you can feel is the pleasure of yet another scotch burning its way down your throat. You’ve had three, now, and it’s only a matter of time before they start to kick in. And you don’t come to weddings just to get drunk, okay? Your friend is getting married today, and no matter how blatantly racist and sexist and homophobic he is on a daily basis, you want to support his happiness (Annie forced you to come).

The fact that it’s Pierce getting married (again) hasn’t really hit you yet. Pierce. Pierce who talks about women like they’re objects, who treats them like they have a fucking expiry date, who has had his shot at marriage several times before, is now at the altar again, having another wedding while some of you are left to wallow in your own self-pity and loneliness until the night’s end.

You ask the bartender for another scotch.

You swivel in your stool to survey the venue – tables are dotted all throughout the hotel’s expansive ballroom, swathed with elegant white tablecloths, with elaborate centrepieces of white lilies and tulips and curling ferns to adorn. The ceiling reaches up, up, up, and intricate moulding compliments and fills its area, leading to the elevated centre where a glimmering, twisting chandelier dangles, its large gems scattering rainbow light here and there around the room. It’s pretty – the bride knew what she was doing. Pierce had refused to get involved in any of the wedding preparation because, and you quote, “it’s a woman’s job”. When you asked him what a man’s job was, he had looked at you condescendingly, as if it were as plain as day, and said, “To attend the bachelor party, of course.” You didn’t blink or breathe for a whole ten, fifteen seconds, you believe – you thought he was joking at first. But you shouldn’t’ve underestimated Pierce and his miraculous ability to infuriate you. Lord knows why anyone would want to marry him.

Your table – the study group’s table – is right in the corner of the room. The location is a little questionable (you’re all pretty sure the bride detests you for being more important than she is to Pierce, and you don’t blame her at all—but, you know, she could’ve sat you a little closer to the snack bar is all you’re saying), and it’s not close to the altar, it’s not close to the buffet, or the bar, or the toilets, or the band. But, of course, the group has found its own way to keep everyone entertained. Abed and Troy have napkin hats placed on their heads, acting out some movie scene, you’re sure, and Britta’s well on her way to becoming black-out drunk by the time the vows start, and Shirley’s trying to figure out the recipe of the cheesecake Annie ordered, reaching over the table for another forkful and another and another, face scrunched up in deathly concentration as she tries to identify the ingredients by taste. Poor Annie, you think to yourself, but you’re smiling.

Your eyes immediately start searching for Jeff. It’s an unconscious thing that you do every time you enter a room. You just want to make sure he hasn’t done anything stupid yet. And if you know anything at all about him, he’s going to be glowering the whole night away, rolling around in his bitterness, torn between his jealousy that Pierce gets to be married (again) and between his fiery disdain of weddings. He’s just a little bit too much like you – that’s how you can foresee his scowl when he approaches the bar, how you just know his hands will be shoved childishly in his pockets, and that he’ll roll his eyes when some bridesmaid will stop him and ask how he knows the groom. It happens just like clockwork. Jeff thinks he’s some wildcard, but, in reality, he’s so predictable.

“I’m actually the head of what used to be his favourite escort business. He was one of my best customers, but, uh—” he hisses cynically, “—you can’t win ‘em all, can you?”

You smile. He’s predictable until he opens his mouth.

The bridesmaid looks absolutely horrified. She leaves promptly with wide eyes and an open mouth, trying to stifle a laugh for the sake of her friendship with the bride.

A self-satisfied look overcomes Jeff’s face – he’s probably laughing internally at one of his own jokes again – and then his attention shifts up over to you, and his gleaming eyes grace themselves upon yours. He’s such an ass.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself,” you snort, turning back to the bar and digging your nail back into this narrow groove in its mahogany surface – maybe, if you’re patient enough, you’’ll soon be able to carve your initials into it forever. Jeff steps up onto the platform that perimeters the bar, sighing from deep within his chest as he slumps himself forward in the viridian, velvet-cushioned stool beside you. “You could have at least pretended to be nice for a few seconds.” While your manner is joking, there’s an underlying seriousness to your words. He needs to stop introducing himself as a prick to everyone – it’s off-putting.

But he just grins over at you – it’s hard not to smile back. “That was me being nice, I’ll have you know,” he says meaningfully, “and it just kills me—” he slaps a hand right across his heart, “—to know you don’t think I’m genuine.”

“She looked abhorred, Jeff. Abhorred.”

He scoffs violently. “Don’t say she looked abhorred, okay? She did not look abhorred.” Then, a pause. Then, “What does ‘abhorred’ mean?”

Oh, Jeff. You’d think that, what with his lawyer days (or rather, his days faking a law degree), he’d have a better vocabulary than he actually does. You’re pretty sure he looks up fancy words in his free time, just to impress people, most of which he doesn’t even know. You can just picture it: Him, sitting in the armchair of his ridiculously clean apartment, a dictionary in his lap, a thesaurus to the side, trying to comprehend what “sporadically” means so that he can use it in class the day after. You haven’t proven this theory yet, and Jeff always avoids the question, but you’re 100% convinced that this act is entirely true.

“It means horrified, Jeff,” you deadpan. You watch him make a mental note to use that in conversation later.

He hums lowly, and you let out a long sigh. Wordlessly, the both of you turn your heads to look back at your table. There are a few, special moments in life where someone will resonate so much with another’s feelings that they feel as if the two of them have become melded together. The borders of their mind will collapse, and that shared emotion will just mingle between the two of them like a strange, little ghost. It’s like that now, with you. It’s a melancholy type of feeling. You both can’t quite place the sadness, even as you’re looking on at the happy study group, and you can say that, with confidence, Jeff feels lonely. Just like you. You can feel the ache in his heart.

But, as quick as the intimacy came, it disappears again. Jeff swallows hard and frowns down at the counter, clearing his throat before commenting drily, “So, this sucks, huh? The wedding and everything.”

You nod.

“I just don’t get why Pierce is the one who gets to get married. Like, why not one of us or something? It’s just kind of unfair.” And then he stops abruptly, inhaling sharply like he’s just broken some kind of code. You nudge him and ask if he’s alright, to which he responds with, “You’re not gonna tell any of the others about this, are you? I don’t want Pierce finding out and having one of his little tantrums again.”

“He wouldn’t throw a tantrum,” you smile, completely missing the trust he’s putting in you right now. “If anything, he’d gloat about how you, the Jeff Winger, are jealous of him.”

He scoffs exaggeratedly. “I am not jealous of Pierce.” Jeff doesn’t admit to being jealous of anyone, but it’s always obvious when he is – his sarcasm will somehow double, his face will squint up into a semi-permanent, sour expression, and his voice will up an octave or two if he’s feeling extra shitty. It’s always funny to see him try to keep it together. That man’s got an ego like no other. Under his breath, he finishes, “No more jealous than you are.”

Damn.

Truth is, even though you’re fucking bitter as can be about Pierce getting married, you know that you have no actual desire to ever enter matrimony. It’s not a Britta “fuck marriage as a whole” type of thing; it’s a “wow, someone is achieving something, and you are achieving nothing” kind of situation. What can you say?—it’s your toxic trait. Anyone “beating” you at anything is enough to discourage you from that sector as a whole. If you’re not naturally gifted, what’s the point? Not to say that Pierce is gifted at relationships. No, he’s just rich. It takes everything in you not to strangle him whenever he opens his goddamn mouth. But you just suck at navigating true, meaningful romantic connections with people, and having to watch Pierce enjoy a pretty party and tick off that milestone (again) is just a kick straight to the fucking vagina.

But you’re not going to say all that to Jeff Winger of all people. So, you suck it up, deepen your scowl, and say, “Ah, yes, ever since I was a foetus, my one goal in life has been to wed a person half my age so that they can drain me of my non-existent fortune and give me pity sex for the rest of my shrivelled-up, little life.”

“Can’t tell if that’s sarcasm or not, ‘cause that actually has been my goal since I was a foetus,” Jeff whips back, and you snort. His grin widens.

Stupid Jeff Winger and his stupid Jeff-Winger smile. You hate it when he does that with his fuckin’ face. It’s infuriating. He’s infuriating. You always feel it tugging at your stomach adamantly whenever you’re in his proximity and he does that, and it’s unsettling. Could be annoyance, could be something else. You’re not ready to explore that.

“Anyway, you wanna go find a back room and fuck?”

The words are so swift and casual that you have to take a moment to realise that that is not something normal people say when attending their friend’s wedding and having a conversation at the bar with their completely platonic other friend who has never before made any hints towards attraction.

You turn and blink hard at Jeff, your lungs buffering in your chest.

“What?” you stress to him.

He darts his eyes away from the great hall and shuffles them back to you like he has all the time in the world, like he hasn’t just said what he just said. He raises his eyebrows innocently and politely continues, “Oh, sorry, I just thought that was where this conversation was going.”

The commotion of the party, to your surprise, carries on as usual.

Your wrists are numb with shock, and they’re sparking with what you think might actually be excitement. Did Jeff really just say those words out loud? Are you angry about it? You can’t fucking tell.

Instead of addressing the problem, you swallow thickly, hoping he won’t notice, and ask through an incredulous scoff, “Is this how you get people to have sex with you?” Would you be mad about that? About the fact that he’s just asked, essentially, to sleep with you, right to your face, right in public, at Pierce’s wedding, where there are people that you know and that can see you clearly from where they’re sitting? God, do you look as thrown-off as you feel right now? You would hope to die before looking thrown-off in front of Jeff Winger. The very Jeff Winger that’s finishing your drink off for you and watching you amusedly from over the rim of the glass, smiling his fucking smile to himself as he watches you glitch and hesitate like a browser with too many tabs open.

“Don’t say the s-word,” he hisses patronisingly, narrowing his gaze, leaning closer to you, glancing warily around the room. “There are children.”

“You just said fuck.”

“Yes. Yes, I did. And also, would you like to?”

He’s analysing your expression with fond eyes, you see from your peripheral vision, setting your glass back on the counter gently as he waits, all patient, for your answer, for your reaction. This is probably the most patient he’s ever been in his life. It’s certainly the most patient you’ve ever seen him, and you’ve seen him through a lot.

You tell him (a little breathlessly), “You’re fuckin’ crazy.”

He lowers his voice. “Did I read the situation wrong?”

There’s a silence that’s far too long to be salvageable. Then, a flustered, “No.”

Jeff raises his eyebrows, like he’s impressed with himself, and he looks smugly up at the ceiling. Damn him, you think to yourself. And, sweet Jesus, he has pretty nice hands. You also think to yourself that he has—he has pretty nice hands. Nice hands fixing the cuffs of his shirt and jacket. Nice hands scratching at that awful thing he calls a beard. Nice hands shoved in his pockets all nice-like. Nice hands that you’re sure can do a lot of—nice—things. Jeff clears his throat, and your attention snaps back to where it belongs.

“So,” he drawls. “Back room?”

And just like that, his pick-up somehow works for you. Somehow, you end up stumbling into the janitor’s closest, and you’re shushing each other and telling each other to be quiet as he helps you on top of the wobbly desk. It’s clumsy and fast and you’re both more than a little drunk. “Ow!” he exclaims when you accidentally elbow him in the ribs. Maybe it’s that you’re both just extremely lonely at this wedding – you’ve both kind of realised that you may just have to spend forever alone, that Pierce has a better chance of getting married than you do, that happiness might not be for you after all. And that’s always a nice thing to hear. You just want solace, and both of you are fighting for that by getting it on in a barely sanitary janitor’s room. Think of it—as a favour for a friend. Yeah. You think, with Jeff, the Jeff who blunders over a bucket when he tries to kiss you, it’s just pheromones and genetics doing their thing. Skin-deep. That’s your excuse as you grab him by the tie and press your lips to his as he positions his arms either side of you to keep himself from falling. “Your hair smells kinda nice,” he tells you before he helps zip down your dress, and you slide down your underwear.

He goes down on you first, after you both mock each other about who you bet is gonna finish first. “Oh, I’ve spoken with Britta about you,” you’d said lowly, smiling, and his eyes filled with sweet, sweet defeat. “Yeah, she told me everything—One-Minute Wonder.”

And this had gotten little, insecure Jeff all riled up. “Alright,” he huffed, voice scraping against his throat like he hadn’t had anything to drink for a week. “Alright, we’ll see who cums first, then, huh, doll?” And instead giving you one of those classic Winger smiles, he whispered a request for permission to use his mouth on you. You didn’t even have a response to that. He kneeled down in front of you, hands eagerly spread on your thighs, and his breathing was slightly uneven as he awaited your answer. It made you feel some type of way. You gave a quick nod and shuffled forward to meet his hot mouth. When his tongue delved deep inside your cunt, all coherent thoughts went straight out the door, and now you’re weeping into the back of your hand and clenching down your teeth down on your fingers, trying your best not to cry out.

Now, there are a few things you do to try and stop yourself from finishing immediately: you try clenching your legs together, but this only makes Jeff moan right into your pussy, and that doesn’t do you any good at all; you pull lightly at his hair and scratch at his back and his neck and his arms, holding on for dear life, but he only grows more enthusiastic; and you try insulting him under your breath (“twat”, “asshole”), but he just chuckles into you, and you have to bite down on your knuckles all over again, wrestling with that increasingly violent fluttering feeling in your legs.

Near the end of it, you just give up that bet with Jeff; you’ll cum, you’ll finish first, you’ll lose the bet, and you’ll do whatever you can to get to it. You grind shyly, and then shamelessly, against Jeff’s face, finding a delicious friction with his beard, a lovely contrast to the soft, velvet slickness of his tongue – that is, until he uses his hands to press your hips firmly back down onto the table, rendering you powerless to his actions.

You’re just about to finish when he pulls away. You think it’s a mistake at first, trying to lower him back down onto you with your hand cradling his head, but then you catch sight of a shit-eating grin wanting to take over his face, and you whine out, “Jesus Christ, Jeff, don’t be mean!”

“C’mon, honey, I thought the point of the bet was to not cum. You don’t wanna lose, do you?” His chin is still slick with you and he’s talking to you like you’re not hot and flustered and half-naked for him in a fucking supply room, on the brink of an orgasm, legs shaking like there’s no tomorrow. What a fucking prick, you think to yourself. You’re still gonna fuck him, of course, but he’s still a prick to you, and nothing will ever change that. “What? Can’t talk anymore?”

“I’m about this close—” you narrow my index finger and thumb down to a microscopic space between, “—to leaving you alone in here with blue balls, Winger. You hear me?”

He stands up and massages your legs gently, almost tenderly, and makes you forget, just for a second, that you’re probably another one of his escapades, another one-night stand, just another girl for him to forget in the morning. “Aw, just look at you,” Jeff taunts, twisting his face up in mock-sympathy as you scramble to regain control. “You’re cute when you’re angry, you know that?” His nose brushes up against yours. He comes in real close and whispers against the shell of your ear, “You know, I think you just might get us caught, sweets. I think you’re gonna be crying out my name by the time we’re done, and all those wedding guests are gonna be shocked at the dirty things I’ve done to you and you’ve done to me. You think you’re gonna be able to walk right when they ask us to come out this room? Or do you think everyone’s gonna know how hard I fucked you in here, how I fucked you senseless, how I fucked you so good that you can barely sit down without thinkin’ ‘bout how my cock felt up inside of you?” Your clit throbs painfully. How can it not? You try to snake your own hand between your legs, but Jeff softly moves it away and kisses your shoulder. “Hmm? So, which is it?”

“I think I want you inside of me,” you say breathlessly, needily. Yes, you knew that Jeff likes to sleep around a lot, you knew that he was experienced, you knew that he knows how to get someone hot—but you didn’t really prepare for this. How many other girls has he had in the janitor’s room? How many other girls has he had at a wedding?

“I think I want to play with you for a little while longer,” he replies huskily, and you very nearly finish right on the table. You take his hand and guide it between your glistening thighs, taking him through the way you like to be touched, and he soon takes control, finding out what makes you squirm and what makes you bite into his shoulder and scratch at his back. Jeff has always been a person who loves knowing that he’s good at something, that he’s in charge, that he’s in control – it’s not hard to figure out he loves praise. So, when you tell him, “You’re doing so well,” and he kisses you roughly, hand in your hair, and pinches your clit, you take satisfaction again in his predictability. You yelp right into his mouth, brimming with smugness. Then, he dips a finger into your cunt, and maybe the attitude is punched out of you, but you lose a little respect for yourself with how eagerly you sigh out. After a while, he asks if he can add another, and you agree, grinding against the heel of his palm.

What you’re really scared of is that he won’t let you cum again, that he’s into edging, and that you’re going to be denied the sweet release you’ve been craving for what seems like years, now. “Let me cum, please,” you say, kissing his neck. “I’ll go down on you later, but just please don’t edge me again.” Ew. You hate how desperate you sound. You’re usually a little more dignified than this. Jeff’s there, quick-witted and sharp-tongued as always, and you’re sitting here, tongue-tied and helpless. This is sort of the most bottom you’ve ever been, give or take. With sex with other people, there was a mutual bond rather than a power dynamic, but, here, there’s a very clear distinction. It makes you a little uncomfortable. You’d feel, oh, so much better if it were you saying all those dirty things to Jeff, making him sweat with his cock on your tongue, being the one he asks for permission to cum. But you’re saving that fantasy for another time – you don’t have the willpower to do anything like that today, not when Jeff wants to be in charge right now.

And maybe it’s your imagination, but he grows just that little bit harder at the desperation in your voice. Maybe he should let you cum, since you asked so nicely.  “You don’t have to go down on me,” he says, even though he’d definitely love to see your pretty, little mouth wrapped around his cock. Instead, he reaches down and starts to kiss and lick and suck and bite at your breasts, making sure to linger at the swell of them – he has an odd thing for that area between your side and your breast, that little swell, you both learn, and he strokes that area tenderly with one hand as he continues to fuck you with his fingers.

When you finish around his fingers, he licks them clean and wipes the rest on the little square handkerchief in his pocket. He’s going to save that for later, he decides. Say he gets hard at night thinking about you and needs the smell of you to get off—or maybe he’ll just tease you at the post-vows dinner and make eye contact when he presses the damp fabric against his nose, just to see you clench your thighs together. Who knows? You, on the other hand, are only just realising that he’s still fully clothed. You are as naked as the day you were born, and he’s still prim and smart and handsome in that navy-blue suit and tie.

Pulling him closer to you by his belt, you fumble with the buckle as you tell him, “I’ll go down on you.” You just want a grasp of control after him having seen you so bare, so vulnerable. You don’t know if you’ll be able to face him after this if you just don’t get his dick in your mouth right now – it’s a strange logic, yes, but there’s no stopping you.

Jeff watches you passively as you frantically undo his belt, somewhat enjoying seeing you so flustered and out of control. It doesn’t only feed into his desire and lust, but it also adds to that weird, warm feeling in his gut, one that he hasn’t really experienced before. He can’t quite figure out what it is – heartburn, maybe; indigestion? – but he’s not stupid, and he’s a little suspicious, so before his tipsy subconscious can come to that terrifying conclusion, he tells you, “Can you spread your legs for me?” At your surprise, he adds, “Please?” Just to be nice.

“So fucking demanding, aren’t you?” you huff, but you do as you’re told, gut wriggling with apprehension.

He kisses you nice and slow, storing this memory in his mind carefully for later, trying to be the most genuine he can because, at the end of the day, you’re his friend, his good friend, and he would never do anything to harm or lose you. If he’s going to fuck you, he’s going to do it nicely, the way you’d fuck a friend (I don’t know). You remove his jacket as he loosens his tie, and he unbuttons his shirt as you tug down his trousers and his underwear. He rifles through his wallet for a condom, and you make fun of him for carrying a condom in his wallet (“You’re such a skeez, Jeff.”; “Hey, you’re fucking this skeez!”).

You both have a brief moment, a brief pause, of should-they-shouldn’t-they – after all, you’re going to have to see each other practically every day after this, at school, at the study group, at lunch, at hangouts. But then, you tell him, “Well, get on with it, then,” and he e-e-eases into you, taking his goddamn sweet time with it, letting you grasp at his arms and his back and his waist and his neck and hair and face and chest. He loves how handsy you are. You try not to be so vocal – you don’t want his ego growing any bigger than it currently is – but your touchiness always gives you away. And it makes him feel special as well – you’re not the most affectionate person usually, and you rarely give out hugs and touches and pats like some of the other members of the study group, so the fact that you’re touching him so much and so freely makes him feel blessed.

When he thrusts up into you, you bite into his shoulder again, and he nearly loses it. There’s a sinful, explicit, wet noise that’s made when he moves in and out of you, and it’s almost enough to make him cum on the spot. He’s suppressing his moans, now, trying to do well for you, trying to be good, be strong, be satisfying enough for you.

“Good girl,” he chokes out when you whine high in your throat for him – he says it more to himself than to you, feeling the need to give praise after receiving it, wanting to make you feel as good as he is (say what you will about Jeff, but he’s respectful when he wants to be). But little does he know that you love being called that. Some weird insecurity issue is probably to blame, but you whimper for him and clench around his length, making his hips stutter and his pace falter. He decides to play around a bit, just to see how far he can push you while you’re sedated like this – usually, you’d be up to speed, quick and sharp-tongued and tough and sickly sweet, but, now, he has you a mess in his hands. “Oh, you liked that, didn’t you?” he chuckles darkly. “You’re such a good girl for me. Such a good—” he thrusts harder, “—little—” harder, “—girl.”

All you can do is gasp and try to take it well. You can barely form words – it’s like you’re drunk. Well, you are drunk. Of course, you know you’ll have a hard time getting rid of this picture – this picture of him panting and sweating, of his mischievously glinting eyes, of his large hands digging right into your hips and thighs and waist – and you’re probably going to get yourself hot later just thinking about it. You blame him. You blame him for all of it. He’ll probably forget about it in a heartbeat, you think to yourself. He’s Jeff Winger, after all – ladies’ man, professional man-whore, completely indifferent to everything all of the time. You try to plan ahead, try to plan for later when you’re sad and alone and hating your body and hating your life choices, but then Jeff moans breathily into your ear, and you’re right back in the moment. You curl your legs tightly around his waist, letting your head fall back as he takes further control.

“You know, I think this is the first time you haven’t had some comeback ready to go, isn’t it, hon?” he says, then softly biting your earlobe. You can only choke out a moan. “Thank you for that addition.”

You groan and roll your eyes. “I fuckin’ hate you,” you say in a feeble attempt to put up your guard again.

“No, you’re just fucking me, actually.”

You sob dryly into his shoulder, and Jeff starts to encourage you a little, probably the kindest he’s ever been during sex: “Come on, darlin’, why don’t you cum for me? You’re doing so well, you know that?” And that just sets you over the edge. You finish, body quivering, exhausted, and slump right forward onto Jeff’s chest. He somehow manages to hold on – he’s not done yet, and he’s going to want to drag this out for as long as he can, that much he knows. He plants his hands on the table, either side of you, and rests his head forwards on your shoulder, panting.

“Nice one, Jeff,” you say to him awkwardly. What does one say to the friend they’ve just fucked? There’s no right thing, of course, but you know straight away that that was definitely a wrong thing.

But he laughs. “We just fucked the shit out of each other, and that’s what you’ve got to say to me?”

“Well, what am I supposed to say?”

“I dunno,” he tells you, and he genuinely doesn’t.

You stay like that for a while, him laying light kisses on your shoulder and neck, you running your hand gently through his hair, both confused as to what to do now. That is, until you point out, “You’re still hard, huh?” You can feel him throbbing painfully inside of you. This must be torture for him – you’ve finished twice, now, and him none.

“Yeah,” he replies. “I was gonna wait for a better time, but.”

“I don’t think there is a better time in this situation.”

Jeff swallows thickly, throat suddenly dry as he pulls back and rests his forehead against yours. His dick twitches inside you when you grin up at him, and you pretend not to notice (but, oh, you’ll definitely remember it the next time you smile at him). He’s quite nervous, and he can’t pinpoint why. His brain’s just still a little too fuzzy to really process any coherent thoughts, even despite that sobering experience just then, but, again, he isn’t stupid – he knows what that knotted feeling in his chest probably is – so, before he has the chance to figure out what he already knows, he asks you, “Can you turn around? Bet you feel real good when I have you bent over this desk.”

“What a charmer,” you mumble under your breath. You know that’s about as sweet as he gets. You’re about to turn around for him when he surprises you:

“Of course, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He strokes your arms nicely. “We can go back to the party if that’s what you’d prefer, have a few more drinks, make fun of Pierce a little. Or we could try something you decide on. Got a favourite position? I’m sure we could make do with the space we have in here – maybe move a few buckets and boxes around, and we’re good. What do you like?”

Your mind goes completely blank, except for one very clear thought: “You’re what I like.” Not out loud, of course. You’d probably do anything he wanted right about now. You half-expect him to pull a 180 and say something snarky or sarcastic, but he doesn’t. He just kisses your cheek sweetly and waits for your answer. What do you like? You don’t even know anymore, and yet you’re getting wetter than ever before. Your breath is picking up, now. “You know,” you mumble, trying to contain your nerves, “the usual: a little light asphyxiation, a bit of hair pulling. I dunno. What else is there? I guess overstimulation can be nice sometimes. And, you know, I liked it—” a blush starts to form on your cheeks, “—I liked it when you...”

“Liked it when I what?”

“You know,” you huff frustratedly. “Said all those nice things to me.”

Jeff raises his eyebrows. “Praise?” Internally, he smiles to himself – he likes that he shares that in common with you. “Don’t worry, I like it, too.”

“Nice to know.” You maintain a neutral expression, but your clit is fucking beating right now, and your cunt is dripping wet. Your efforts not to clench around Jeff are herculean.

“Well, how do you want it?” he asks you brazenly, the usual Winger way. Okay, now, you squeeze tight around him, and Jeff presses his hands around your thighs in response—but, outwardly, the two of you are perfectly normal about this. “I can dial it back a little if you wanna take charge.” His eyes darken just slightly. “I don’t mind.” And that’s genuine enough – he certainly doesn’t mind the mental image of you with your fingers wrapped around his cock, teasing him as he whimpered and begged for a release, completely submissive to you in the moment. He wouldn’t mind that at all.

You grip the edge of the table and run a tongue over your teeth briefly. “I can turn around.”

“Really?” he asks. “You want to?”

“I want to.”

“Alright then,” he says, smiling. “Better get to it. We don’t want the others realising we’re gone, now, do we?” And you shake your head in response. Now that Jeff’s a little nicer, you’re more comfortable around him. He realises it, too, and so he allows himself to do the things he normally wouldn’t, brushing your hair out of your face for you and really looking into your eyes. Sex sort of became meaningless for him sometime along his life, full of emptiness and loneliness even in that intimate act – that’s the trouble he gets for sleeping his way out of his problems. And so, looking in his partner’s eyes has always brought him some type of shame – he’d always close his eyes and power through it. But you’re nice. You’re familiar. You’re safe and warm and soft. It might be a little to do with the friend thing, but, even when he was with Britta, he never felt this type of comfort, this okay-ness, this general acceptance. It was nice to have, for once: a friend.

He carefully pulls out of you, and then you turn around and bend over the table. Jeff almost stops breathing at the sight in front of him. And it’s not bad, don’t worry – he’s just a bit dramatic. “Jesus Christ,” he curses, and he moves his hands to massage gently at your hips. “You’re so fuckin’ wet.” And it’s true. Slick spills down your thighs, some of it slathered across the table and a fair amount dripping down onto the ground below them. That’s the type of stuff you see in pornos, he thinks amusedly to himself, and he continues to stare in awe at your cunt. Now, what Jeff really wants to do is to kneel down and lay his tongue flat against you. But he controls himself, and, instead, just sucks it up and praises you for it; “Keep that sort of energy up, yeah?”

“You sound like you’re a key-note speaker addressing an assembly of seven year-olds,” you say to him as he places his hands on your ass, spreading the sides apart slightly, his dick straining when he catches a better view of your aching cunt, and then he runs two fingers along your slit – he grows silent for a few heartbeats, amazed at how easily you drip down the length of his fingers and onto his wrist. You then turn back to see him place those fingers in his mouth, and you turn back around, blushing, before he can notice.

“Ah, so you’re into role-play?” he teases, lining himself up with your entrance.

“Sh—” but Jeff is already pushing into you, heavy and strong and thick; you try to continue your sentence without your voice shaking, “—shut u-up.”

He continues all the way to the hilt, and both of you use your hands to hold onto something for stability, his on your hips, and yours flat on the table. “You know,” he says as he bends over you, chest against your back, one hand coming to rest on the wall by your head, coaxing a pant or two out of you as he does so, “it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Role-play’s good once in a while.”

“Uh-huh,” you manage breathily. “You sound like you’re covering up a deeply concerning fantasy, there.”

“Don’t shame me.”

“We all know what it stands for, Jeff. ‘Role-play’s good once in a while.’ Really? Show me where you hid the goddamn body.”

He exhales amusedly through his nose. “I feel like you’re just trying to ease in with your officer-perp kink.” And he’s just casually gri-i-i-in-ding up against you, carefully pushing you back down so that your stomach is flat against the table, his lips pressing kisses into your hair and upon your shoulder blades as he starts to find a pace.

“It’s h-hot, okay?” you stutter out, trying to continue the conversation. It’s true enough – police officers can be hot when they want to be, and Jeff would certainly make for an interesting experience in that sector. Not that you were planning to sleep with him again. Fantasies are what’s discussed between a couple – it’s not really something you tell a one-night stand, especially if that one-night stand happens to be one of your closest friends who would never let you forget anything embarrassing you did—ever.

“Really?” Jeff says through a smile, though, now, even he’s having trouble composing himself. He should’ve cum when he could’ve – he feels like he’s about to give way any second, but he, oh, so wants to finish inside of you while you crumble apart around him. “Hands—” his breath catches, “—above your head.”

“I’m literally bent over a table in front of you.”

“Could still apply to some other positions, though.” And, with that, he begins to slowly pull out and push into you, nice and gentle at first, very controlled, but, as I said, Jeff was very quickly losing control, so one can imagine the animalistic desperation that soon kicked in for not just him, but for both parties. You buck up against him feverishly, letting out whines and suppressed, breathy moans and little, desperate whispers of his name (he absolutely loves those), and he just goes at it with all his energy. Who cares if he looks like absolute shit at the party later on? That’s a lot coming from him, he’ll have you know. As long as this memory is playing in his head, he doesn’t care about his hair or his suit anymore (the suit might be a stretch). He tells you breathlessly, “You know, you look good like this. Such a pretty girl.”

There’s the praise that you love. You squeeze around him and pant, “Take a picture—” and Jeff slides a hand between your legs, rubbing at that golden spot, and you have to choose between pressing into his cock or into his hand; the indecision makes your head reel, and the continuation of your sentence is twisted high and quiet, “—it’ll la-ast long-e-er.”

“Is that an invitation, doll? ‘Cause I’m not exactly against it.”

He pounds and pounds into you, nice and firm and precise, until you’re mewling and whining for him. “Be quiet, now,” he whispers against your ear – there are people chattering outside the room, passing through the exit after the party. But you can’t exactly keep it in. You try to hold your breath, you really do, but you end up grunting out when Jeff kneads at one of your breasts. “What?—d’you want those people to hear you or something? You wanna get caught?” You whine suppressedly again. “I bet you’d love that, wouldn’t you? Dirty girl.”

You clench once again, so fucking close to cumming, and he asks, “Can I try something?��� And you nod frantically, alongside giving him a rushed, weak verbal affirmation. “I want you to prop yourself up a little more, hands on the wall – can you do that for me?”

“Uh-huh,” you mutter, adjusting yourself, and, with your movement, Jeff groans and grips your hips tightly.

“Good girl,” he praises, kissing the place behind your ear. And he continues thrusting, and then swiftly lifts one of your legs right up into the bend of his arm, leaving you to press the side of your face into the wall, your entire body swaying with the sheer force of the rutting of his hips. You feel so full like this, and he’s reaching that heavenly spot inside of you. Your knee gently brushes against his corresponding shoulder whenever he moves into you, out of you.

“Shit,” you curses sharply when he roughens his pace. “Jeff.” His name comes out as an awfully high-pitched sigh.

He huffs, “Yup, that’s me, doll.”

“You’re such a prick.”

“You could at least wait until I’m not inside of you to insult me.”

“Tell me something nice.”

“Something nice? I dunno if I can muster it up – all the things I’m thinking aren’t exactly nice. Definitely not things I’d say to anyone’s grandma.”

“Well, then, be mean,” you chuckle, and he jerks inside of you. “I don’t care.”

“You like getting off on my voice, do you?” His voice is nice and low and gravelly, and it practically grates against your pussy in some magical way, and your whole body shudders beneath him. He keeps at that perfect pace, pressure, and you commend him for his technique, you have to say. “You ever think about me when you touch yourself?” You nod. “Such a perfect, little girl. Fucking perfect.”

And he’s got a good-ish look at your face from this angle. Your eyes are closed in ecstasy, mouth open in silent pleasure, and you’re chasing, chasing that feeling. He can’t help it. He cums. And you follow immediately after – your fists screw up uselessly against the wall, and your legs quake and quake, and you squeeze so impossibly tight around him that he lets out a choked moan at how good it feels. He continues sloppily thrusting up into you, helping you ride out your orgasm while also riding out his own. “God, you’re hot,” he mutters, smiling.

You grin back at him, and his cock twitches again – it’s instinctive, he swears. “You’re not so bad either,” you reply, eyes shimmering in the dim light. Those eyes flutter shut again when he carefully pulls out of you with a sinful, wet noise.

Shit, he thinks to himself as you slip your soaked underwear and your pretty, green dress back on.

Shit, he loves you, doesn’t he?

After he’s put his suit back on, you help to adjust his tie, and he has to try his very, very hardest not to blush. He’s pretty sure you notices anyway, but it’s the effort that counts, right? He really, really wants to kiss you, but he doesn’t know if he should. The one-night stand is over, right?

“Call me tonight?” you ask after a brief pause. Was that the correct thing to do? You and Jeff call sometimes, obviously, when he’s at the store and wants to ask if you want anything, or when you want to order a pizza for yourself but get too nervous and ask for his help—but this’ll clearly be different. Are you still friends? Of course, you know you’re still friends, sure, but is it still the same?

And his heart rate has picked up significantly. You want him to call you. You want to talk to him later. “So you can get off to my voice?” You laugh. He made you laugh. He just made you laugh. The sound is like music to his ears. “I’m not a phone sex line, you know. Not a free one, anyway. If you want my services, you’re gonna have to pay.”

You’re smiling. “What’s your price?”

“$100, give or take.” He neatly folds his pocket square back up and places it into his breast pocket. Like he said, he wants to save it for later. He’s not sure for what, but it seems important to him now. And then, what he bumbles out next is said on a whim – the words are quiet and shy. Yes, shy. Jeff Winger is shy. He’s blushing. His stomach is full of butterflies. “Can I come visit your room instead?”

“Yeah, but it’ll cost you $100, give or take.”

Jeff approaches the door, and you line up behind him. “Ready?” he asks you. And you grab a fistful of his suit jacket from behind, going up on your toes, and kiss him lightly on the corner of his mouth in response.

He doesn’t even notice that you wrinkled his suit. He just closes his eyes and turns around for another kiss.

(Spoiler alert: You don’t end up seeing each other in your hotel room because Britta gets black-out drunk and nearly starts a vodka fire on the bride’s dress, so Jeff has to take her to get her fucking stomach pumped. But he gives you a call, and you come, and you sit together by Britta’s bedside as she sleeps. You talk about weird hospital experiences you’ve had, and then you fall asleep. He lets you rest your head on his shoulder.)

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Omg can I please get a hannibal x a shy girl reader ? Like he’s really possessive of her and she doesn’t know how to handle it but she likes him so they date??

Sorry this took so long, anon. I’ve been bouncing ideas around and this one in particular, I believe, fits your request. Y/n feels out of place among Hannibal’s fancy friends and it becomes even more obvious when he abandons her at a party. 

Trigger warnings: social anxiety, sexual harassment, overstimulation

You and Hannibal had an agreement about large gatherings. He could only bring you to a party if you had a week's notice and at least three uninterrupted hours of gaming time prior to the event.

For this event, you needed a solid six.

One of the major Maryland universities was awarding a lucrative research grant to a student of clinical psychology, and every influential name in the industry was expected to be there. As a recent college grad with a bachelor's in business you didn't know what to do with, you couldn't imagine a less welcoming environment if you tried. You couldn't fit into their world and more importantly, you didn't want to. But the thought of being noticeably different in any situation was twice as terrifying. So you spent the whole week repeating your mantra; blend in, be quiet and make it through the night.

But Hannibal had different plans for you.

Halfway through the week, just when you'd pushed the party out of your mind, Hannibal presented you with a gift.

"What's the occasion?" You asked. You hoped that if you pretended not to know, it would just magically go away.

"I brought you something to wear on Friday." Hannibal answered, hanging the garment bag up on the bureau. "You know I'll take any excuse to dress you up."

He unzipped the bag and placed a black silk dress into your arms. "Try it on so I have time to get it altered if it needs it."

The material was cool to the touch and outlined your figure so perfectly, you felt even a little naked. Hannibal, of course, loved this. You were his own personal Venus de Milo. His goddess and his muse. 

“Yes, that will do nicely.” He observed, looking at you hungrily. 

“Seems a little short for a such a sophisticated event, doesn’t it?” You raised an eyebrow. The answer was yes and he knew it. He was very deliberate in everything he did. “I don’t want to come off the wrong way.” 

“And what way would that be, darling?” He asked, not taking his eyes off your figure. 

“I mean--” You searched for the right words. “It’s a gathering of the Mid-Atlantic’s most esteemed academics, I feel like, in a dress like this, I might be seen as, well, a...” 

“A prostitute?” Hannibal finished, choosing a much nicer word than you would have.

You looked down. “Yeah. It just doesn’t seem all that appropriate.” 

Hannibal approached you and lifted your chin slightly to look into his eyes. “Many Christian denominations believe that Mary Magdalene was a prostitute, yet she was Christ’s right-hand woman. She was first to see him crucified and first to witness his resurrection.” 

“Dr. Lecter,” You smirked. “I never would have taken you for a religious man.” 

“Goodness, no.” He shook his head. “But any reputable academic is expected to be familiar with biblical literature and its many contradictions and impossibilities.” 

“What does that have to do with me?”

“You are my divine feminine, Miss [L/N].” Hannibal said in a low whisper. “And I want everyone to see it. If they see a common whore, it would only be a reflection of their own jealousy.” 

Hannibal's rationalization almost made you forget about your fear of being noticed. Almost. It all came rushing back when you arrived at the event. Not one person your age was in attendance. The women wore long, flowing evening gowns that reached the floor. The length of your skirt alone guaranteed that all eyes were on you. In a simple black silk dress, you looked the very model of high society. Silk was a sign of luxury, and Hannibal wanted everyone to know that you were a woman of means. His woman, to be precise. That was why he brought you to these functions in the first place. To put you in a dress short enough for any wandering eyes so see the smattering of love bites running up your inner thighs. He wanted everyone in his field to know that you were completely and entirely his.

You realized too late that this was all his little exercise in showing you off.

Everyone seemed to know him. He only knew a handful of people by name, and you didn't know anyone.

"And who is this delightful young woman?" A woman with a light southern twang in her voice asked, looking at you as if you were a caged animal on display.

"I wasn't aware you had a daughter, Dr. Lecter." The young man beside her laughed. "Or is she your side piece?"

Your eyes scanned the room for the nearest exit. It would be unbecoming to make a scene, so you plotted a way to slip out quietly.

“Darling, meet Dr. Charlotte Ramset and her TA, David.” Hannibal introduced, notably ignoring the young man. “Dr. Ramset, this is my intended, [F/N] [L/N].”

"I didn't realize she was also a ventriloquist!" The lady, presumably Dr. Ramset, joked. You'd heard that one a million times. She looked at you. "Tell me about yourself, sweetie. What are you studying?"

The lady was old enough to be your grandmother and reeked of too much perfume.

"I graduated last year." You said, quietly. "With a BA in business."

"See, there's a good woman." David added. "Only speaks when spoken to. They don't make ’em like you anymore, baby."

Hannibal tightened his grip on your hand. "On the contrary, David. See, Miss [L/N] is quite a bit like myself. She only dignifies those she deems worthy with a response. There's nothing wrong with being selective."

The lady laughed at David's expense and smiled at you. "Good for you."

You smiled back just a little, not ready to bring your guard down yet. "I've had to deal with more than enough. It's best not to engage."

"Oh, I know, I know." The lady said, shaking her head. "That's how it is for us educated gals. Always having to put up with pigs. See, I went to college in the sixties, so I can tell you some real stories."

This was a new experience. Talking to Hannibal's friends and having them listen to you was something you never considered possible. Now, you were one of the educated gals. You were just about to strike up a conversation with this woman, when the man next to her decided someone desperately needed to play devil’s advocate.

“I find that sexist, actually.” He cut in. “Not all men are pigs.” 

The silence following his comment was deafening and you wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Whatever progress Hannibal and Dr. Ramset made breaking down your defenses was completely reversed and you were ready to retreat.

Dr. Ramset took a long sip of wine and adjusted her shawl. “David, none of us said anything about men, you drew that conclusion yourself.”

“I mean, look at you.” David gestured to your dress. You knew exactly where this was going and you wished you could just disappear. “You’re basically asking for it.” 

Dr. Ramset glared at him. “David, that’s enough.” 

“I’m just stating facts.” David crossed his arms. “If you dress like a slut, what do you expect?”

Dr. Ramset and Hannibal seemed to have an entire conversation through prolonged eye contact before one of them broke the silence. 

"Charlotte, I hate to have to excuse myself so soon, but the president of the university is expecting me." Hannibal said, dropping your hand. Your heart hit the floor when you realized that he would be throwing you to the wolves.

"Of course, Dr. Lecter." She nodded. "Duty calls."

"I trust you'll keep an eye on my beloved [F/N] in my absence?" His voice hardened. The severity in his tone frightened you.

Dr. Ramset didn't seem disturbed or even surprised in the slightest by his gently threatening demand. "Of course."

"Thank you. And [F/N]?" He said, pressing his lips to the back of your hand. "I won't be going far. Please, try to have fun."

You tried not to look affronted, but you were going to have a long talk with Hannibal when you got home. 

"I'm just saying what everyone is thinking." David continued, his inability to take a hint positively astounding. "Why don't you respect yourself enough to cover up, [F/N]? You have a boyfriend!"

Your eyes scrolled across the room looking for any sign of Hannibal, but he was gone. Dr. Ramset finished her wine and stared at her TA with the resigned disgust of a death row jailer.

"Any other thoughts?" She said, snatching a fresh glass of wine. You looked at her with a clear expression of discomfort.

"Come on, do you see any other woman in the room dressed so provocatively?" David's voice broke mid-sentence. "No. Because they're educated enough to know that real men don't care about their bodies."

The hotel clerk approached the group. "Mr. Hosmer, there's a call for you."

David narrowed his eyes. "Uh, what?"

"Someone is on the phone asking for you." The clerk repeated. "Says it's an emergency."

David shrugged. "Fine."

Just when you thought you would be rid of him, at least for a moment, he planted his hands on your hips in attempt to "get by" you. His touch was like that of an insect crawling across your skin; unexpected, filthy and leaving you squeamish.

"I'm so sorry about that." Dr. Ramset's words echoed in your ears, but you didn't really hear them. You were too focused on grounding yourself to process what she was saying. 

“Dr. Ramset?” You said, quietly. “Which one is the president of the university?” 

She glanced at a tall woman in a dark blue suit, surrounded by equally important looking businesspeople. You followed her eyes. “That’s Dr. Mary Hosmer.”

Your ounce of righteous fury was squelched in two seconds when the reality of having to talk to someone, especially someone of stature, set in. You looked sheepishly back at Dr. Ramset. 

“Could you please ask her where Hannibal went?” You whispered. “I’d really like him to take me home now.” 

Her face turned sympathetic. “Of course, [F/N]. Stay right there.” 

You nodded. “Thank you.” 

Dr. Ramset crossed the floor and politely greeted the president. You took a few slow, calculated steps closer, just to get in earshot.

“Pardon me, but, have you seen Dr. Hannibal Lecter?” Dr. Ramset said, casually. 

“I wasn’t aware Hannibal had even arrived yet.” The president answered. “I haven’t seen him.” 

Your eyes widened. You fought the urge to freeze, but you had to move back before Dr. Ramset knew you’d been eavesdropping. You heard everything you needed and rushed back to where she’d left you.

“Dr. Hosmer said he stepped out.” She told you upon her return. “He should be back soon.” 

You tried not to show that you knew she was lying. “...oh.” 

“Would you like me to stay with you until he comes back?” 

You knew you were completely on your own. You didn’t know what was going on, but you had an inkling that it had to do with the president and David sharing a last name. All you knew for certain was that you couldn’t trust anybody. 

“Don’t bother.” You shook your head. You took off for the door, but Dr. Ramset grabbed your wrist. 

“I’m sorry, [F/N].” Her voice dropped to a low whisper. She didn’t look mad, but afraid. “But Dr. Lecter told me to stay with you. Please. Don’t make this harder for me.”

You recalled how seriously threatening Hannibal’s request was. She wasn’t answering to the president of the university. She was answering to Hannibal. You didn’t know whether to be scared or relieved. 

“Right.” You conceded, stepping back in. “I’m sorry.” 

The actual award ceremony was much longer than it needed to be, and it dragged on even longer knowing there was no reason for you to be there. Other than that, you awkwardly followed Dr. Ramset around the party like a lost puppy the whole time. You were back to your original plan: blend in, be quiet and make it through the night. 

Just when you thought the party would never end, someone tapped you on the arm. You turned around, hoping with every fiber of your being that it was Hannibal, but it wasn’t. A tall woman in a dark blue suit stared back at you. 

“I’m sorry to bother you, miss.” She said, apologetically. “But have you seen my son? I saw him talking to you and Dr. Charlotte earlier, perhaps he told you where he was going?” 

You’d pushed that man completely out of your mind. You shook your head. “He left to take a phone call and I haven’t seen him since.” 

A hand found your shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Hosmer, but I believe I saw the boy on his phone out in the lobby.” 

“Dr. Lecter!” The president’s eyes widened. “How nice of you to finally join us.” 

“...Yes, I believe he left right after making unwarranted comments towards my intended here.” Hannibal ran his hand down your arm lovingly. 

“Well, boys will be boys.” The president chuckled. “Maybe you should teach your girlfriend not to wear such revealing clothes.” 

Hannibal smiled and pulled you in protectively. “Whatever the case, I hope you find him very soon.” 

Her phone chimed in her back pocket. “Oh, that’s him right now.” 

“Wonderful.” Hannibal said. “[F/N] and I will be taking our leave.” 

He hurried you towards the door, his hand tight around yours. A blood-curdling scream came from behind you. You looked back for just a moment and found the president hollering in pain and falling to her knees. 

“Let’s go, darling.” Hannibal tugged at your arm. “They don’t deserve your presence.” 

“Hannibal, I swear.” You said, once you were in the safety of the car. “If you killed every man who looked at me like a piece of meat, sooner or later, there won’t be any men left.” 

Hannibal smirked and reached for his seatbelt. “Wonderful.” 

[allegra-writes]

"On the balcony"

Tom Hiddleston x Reader

NSFW

Warnings: Smut, semi-public sex.

"You're perfect, and everything in between

Keep moaning, 'cause we're making a scene

Keep going, until they tell us to leave"

Notice me - Role Model

"Oh, god…"

"Shhh" His hot breath on the back of your thighs sent shivers down your spine, "You have to be very quiet, princess. Can you do that for daddy?" 

You nodded your head, not realizing he wouldn't be able to see it. You were too far gone to use words anyway, too drunk on the heady cocktail of adrenaline and desire, too drunk on him.

On his big, calloused hands trailing caresses up and down your naked legs, slipping under your dress, pushing it up and up, over your ass, bunching it at your waist. On his lips, his teeth, kissing, sucking, and nibbling at the pliant flesh of your cheeks. 

On his wicked tongue, wet and hot even through the lace of your gossamer-thin underwear, that you had picked out just for him, and now he was taking great pleasure in ruining.

"Tom…"

Your soft sigh was almost imperceptible, you couldn't even hear it over the pounding of your own heart inside your chest. But of course he heard it. His tongue left you, but you didn't have time to complain before one of his long, dexterous fingers tugged your underwear to the side, toying briefly with your clit only to ghost over your entrance a second later, teasing you but never penetrating you. 

He felt your sharp inhale, no doubt about to whine or complain, but you caught yourself in time. It was worth it, if only to feel his lips trail kisses up your naked back as he stood up to tower over you. 

"Very good, baby" He breathed, husky, against your ear as you managed to keep perfectly still while he buried two fingers as far as they would go into your soft, velvety heat. "Just like that… nice and quiet. Prove to me that you can be a good girl taking my fingers in silent, and maybe… maybe I'll let you have my cock" 

It was an empty threat, you knew that by now. If you were to break and moan, whine, or even cry out, he would just slap his hand over your lips, muffling the sounds as he bent you over the railing, fucking you hard and fast in punishment. Good girl or not, there was no way you were leaving that balcony without christening it the same way you had done every other room, piece of furniture or surface, horizontal or otherwise, in that, your new house. Your safe haven. Your sanctuary. The little piece of paradise he had built just for the two of you. 

No, you knew he would never follow through, but that wasn't the point. The point was that you liked the praise. You liked being his princess, his angel, his good girl, as he did bad bad things to you. And Tom was quite aware of that. He loved seeing you bending over backwards to please him, to cater to his every whim, to obey his every arbitrary rule as he made it increasingly impossible for you. 

It was absolutely perfect, you were absolutely perfect. 

"Yeah… Just like that… such an obedient little thing…" Tom savored the effect his words had on you, your walls delicate squeezing his big fingers, the new wave of wetness falling on his palm like sweet ambrosia, like candy; you tasted just as sweet. A part of him wanted to keep playing with you, to drive you crazy, torture you until you begged for him to take you, debase you in the filthiest, lowest of ways you could think of.

But another, more powerful part, hungered for you, needed you even more than you wanted him. It had for the whole night, ever since you stepped into the garden in that shimmery, backless blue dress, designed with the sole purpose of testing his sanity. 

So far, it was a losing battle. 

The cacophony of music and party sounds downstairs drowned the sound of his zipper and belt buckle being undone, so you didn't realize what was happening until he was sliding his thick cock inside you in one long, slow and controlled stroke. 

"Fuck," your boyfriend broke his own rule, cursing out loud as he bottomed out, "you feel so good… being inside you is pure heaven" 

Understatement of the decade. There was a hunger, an ache in him whenever he was as much as six feet away from him. A heartbreaking longing that could only be fixed by having you like that, in his arms and all around him.

"You feel-ah… You feel amazing too" 

You could practically hear the smile in his voice as he started moving, unhurriedly but harsh. Deep and measured.

"Really now?" 

A sigh was the only reply you could munster, eyelids falling shut by their own accord, head falling back in pleasure.

"No no." He tsked, "Don't close your eyes… look at them" 

You did as he said, trying your best to focus on the housewarming party still going strong in the garden. On your family and friends, blissfully ignorant of what was going on above their heads. 

"All it would take is for just one of them to look up…"

There was no disguising the shiver that shook your body from head to toe at his words. You felt his dark chuckle against your back,

"Oh, but you would like that, wouldn't you? Them seeing us… I would like too," he confessed, "you look positively stunning when I fuck you"

He licked your ear, from lobe to top, and you swore you tasted blood, from how hard you were biting your lip.

"And no one… absolutely not anyone, can fuck you like I do, can they?" 

You shook your head. But he wanted more.

"Use your words, angel"

It was a trap. Of course it was, cause as soon as you opened your mouth, you felt his fingers dig into your hips for leverage, as he started thrusting brutally, his cock splitting you open in the best of ways. Your lips parted in a silent scream.

"I asked you… a question… princess" Tom demanded, punctuating every word with a hard, almost cruel stroke.

"Ah… yes…" you gasped, "yes, daddy. No one… never…" 

"Look at you, so obedient" He praised, "I think you deserve a reward… you deserve daddy's come"

"Oh god, yes" You almost came right there and then, your walls fluttering uncontrollably around his thick shaft, almost driving him to a climax of his own. 

"Ask me nicely, then" he commanded, his movements becoming erratic, "ask daddy nicely to fill you with his come…"

"Please, daddy, fill me with your come" You half murmured, half whined, not even concerned about the volume of your voice anymore. You needed it, you were so close, you could almost taste your release. And you wanted him to come undone with you.

"Take my come, princess… and come with me" 

You did, burying your screams against his palm, just as he buried his against your shoulder, no doubt leaving a mark. 

Tom pulled out of you, fixing your dress before taking into his arms, stepping inside the room, so you both could collapse on the king size bed.

"That was…"

"Absolutely amazing" he finished, once he could catch enough breath to talk again, "just like you, my angel" he brought your hand to his lips, placing sweet, reverent kisses on each of your knuckles.

"No. Just like you… Tom, you're a dream come true"

His replying simile was nothing short of breathtaking. It never failed to marvel him, the fact that you loved him back. The fact that you were his, such a wild and free creature surely ought to be elusive. But you had willingly let yourself be caught by him, and far from feeling trapped, you had actually liberated him. It wasn't the first time you had done something like that: You had let him fuck you on the back of a limousine, finger you under the table at the Met gala, sneaked your hand down his pants on the dancefloor… The list went on and on. 

He felt even more free with you than when he was a bachelor. 

For so long he had run away from commitment, from love. Now all he wanted was everybody to know he was yours and yours alone. 

Just like you were his.

"We should probably get back to the party before they start wondering where we disappeared to…" 

This time, he was the one letting out a bratty whine,

"I know… I don't want to, but I know"

"Do you think anyone saw us?"

Your boyfriend shook his head,

"The balcony is too dark, and the music is too loud, so I honestly doubt it" 

You breathed out in relief.

"Ok. Let me just grab a jacket and we'll go downstairs"

Tom frowned,

"Why? It's a very hot night… are you feeling alright?"

"I am, don't worry" his concern made you smile, "It's just someone left a hickey on my shoulder…" 

Far from looking guilty, a mischievous glint illuminated Tom's icy blues.

"Don't cover it" It wasn't a request. You were ashamed at the weakness of your knees in response to his dominant tone: he had just fucked you, you couldn't possibly be horny again. He was turning you into a nymphomaniac.

"No?"

"No" He confirmed. They might not have seen him taking you, right there under (or above) their very noses…

But they sure as hell would know what you just did. 

[typical-simplelove]

Bragger (M. Barzal)

A/n: This is based of Kelsea Ballerini’s Bragger and a very self-indulgent fic. Enjoy!! 

Warnings: Brief mentions of sex

Word Count: 5.3k (including song lyrics)

Italics are flashbacks

“So, Yn, tell us all about Mathew. What’s he like?” Candace, your maid of honor, asks.

You look at her puzzled. “What do you mean ‘what’s he like’?”

You were sitting at your bachelorette party; you didn’t want anything too big, so you decided on brunch with some of your friends, bridal party, and the WAGs.

“I mean, tell us all about him. How happy he makes you, how he drives you crazy but in the good way. Just brag about your fiance. Today is about you so whatever you want to share.

You smile just thinking about Mathew. Yeah, you could talk about him for days. His smile. The way his hair curls over his forehead. His arms. Dear Lord, don’t get started on his arms. You were about to start but remembered Liana, Mathew’s sister, was sitting with you as well. You didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. You also didn’t really want to brag about your relationship.

“Liana, are you okay with this? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” you say. You and Liana have grown quite close during your relationship with Mathew and especially close after the proposal.

Liana just smiles. “Go ahead, bride-to-be. It is your bachelorette party. You go talk about the man you love.”

“Well, then. What do you want to know?” You say with a smirk on your face.

He's got the look, he's got the touch He's got the eyes that make me crush And he's not one to make a scene But he deserves the spotlight He ain't from 'round this side of town But he fits in to every crowd And he knows how to do my body and my heart right

Mathew Barzal. Where do you even begin? The start? The first time you kissed? The way he walks around your apartment without a shirt on because (a) he refuses to do so and (b) knows it gets you going? The beautiful eyes that make you want to melt the minute you look into them? Just the fact that he knows exactly what to do to make you weak in your knees? The fact that Mathew knows exactly what to do to make the heat rush to your face and make you flustered? The list goes on and on.

“Tell us about something he does that annoys you but you secretly love,” Tessa, your high school best friend, says. She knows exactly what you’re going to say. You have spilled this to her multiple times. However, the fact that she’s asking makes your heart grow warm, best friends forever, right?

You pretend to ruminate over what to say. You, once again, look at Liana for reassurance. You doubt she wants to hear about her brother walking around half-naked. She nods and signals you to continue. You take a deep breath; you never did like talking about yourself. “Um, well, he walks around our apartment without a shirt on all the time. Not even in the mornings after we wake up. He just refuses to ever wear a shirt.”

Some of the girls sigh. Grace, Anders’ wife, and Sydney, Matt’s wife, look at you with understanding. Hockey players really hate wearing shirts and love showing off their chests. Grace and Sydney know exactly what you’re talking about.

“He claims it’s because he knows he can get a rouse out of me, which he can, but it’s also because I don’t think he likes to wear a shirt.”

“Mathew is very proud of the way he looks,” Liana adds and you smile knowing that she knows what Mathew is like. “When he used to come home before dating you, mom had to remind him to put on a shirt.”

You laugh. “I try to tell him to put on a shirt but he always just,” you pause reminiscing the memory. “He’ll just,” you feel the rush of heat to your cheeks as you try to put the words together.

“Even without Mathew here, he’s got you flustered,” Grace says with a warm smile. She loves seeing two young people hopelessly in love.

You shake your head playfully but put on a large smile. “He’ll do this thing with his face and then kiss me in a way that knocks out my breath, and I just forget about him putting on a shirt.”

“He just gets away with not wearing a shirt? He just kisses you and that’s it?” one of your bridesmaids questions. She smirks. “My husband has to do more than just kiss me for me to forget he’s walking around without a shirt.”

“Well, no wonder you’re pregnant,” you playfully retort. She knows you’re joking, and she smiles back at you.

“You’ve got me there, ynn.” The group erupts into laughter.

“Well, then, if we’re on the topic of kissing. I’m not going to ask what happens behind the doors for your own privacy. But, what’s it like kissing Mathew?” Lila, another bridesmaid, asks.

You melt at the thought of kissing Mathew. A wide smile erupts across your face.

“Clearly he kisses tremendously well,” Liana says, and her response shocks you.

You look at her and glare at her playfully.

“I’m just making an observation. Just the thought of kissing my brother puts a giant smile on your face.”

“Yeah, you’re not wrong there. I’m not sure if this is going to make sense but just here me out. When he kisses me, I never doubt he loves me. It doesn’t matter if it’s a small peck, a passionate kiss, or we’re making out. Sorry, Liana. There’s always love, and it’s almost as if it’s overflowing.”

“Oh, to be young and in love,” someone comments and everyone laughs.

“We do this thing where, assuming he’s not on a road trip, we always kiss each other good night, even if we’re angry. Yeah, I know the marriage advice. Don’t go to bed angry. Blah blah. Okay. But still. We’ll be angry and have yet to resolve the fight and just go to bed. We kiss each other goodnight angrily but the love is still there. I don’t doubt it. The way his lips linger on mine, and the gentleness despite being angry is there. I always go to bed knowing that we can sort out whatever problem we are having at the moment.”

“You guys are literally what I strive to have in a relationship,” Candace says. She wiggles her eyebrows as she says the next thing. “Any more kissing stories? Maybe some not so clean?”

You were taking a sip of your mimosa, and you choked on it. The heat immediately rushes to your face, and you know exactly what she wants. Just thinking about Mathew’s lips on anywhere else other than your lips has you turning to putty. You have to put down your glass for fears of dropping it and spilling it. These were nice glasses. You had them made that says ‘I Do Crew’, and you didn’t want to break them. Your reaction has everyone snickering.

“I hate to interject but if you’re going to talk about your sex life, I’m going to have to walk away,” Liana says. She can stomach talking about her brother kissing you but anything more than that was not something she was comfortable with.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’m comfortable talking about that, especially this sober.”

“Well, then, we have to think of something else. Come on ladies, we can figure this out.” Candace says. You really didn’t like talking about yourself. You don’t want to brag because you know that not everyone can have what you have with Mathew.

I don't wanna be a bragger But my man's a heart attacker Like McConaughey and Jagger Hotter than a Saturday night I can't help it that I flaunt him (All the time) I understand why you would want him (I don't mind) And you can keep up all the chatter 'bout my happy ever after 'Cause all that really matters is he's mine

Candace is about to say something but is stopped when you get a phone call. You look at the caller ID and see that it’s Mathew.

“Speaking of the lover,” Candace says, and you glare at her. “Just answer the phone. We’ll use your reactions as a conversation point.”

You pick up the phone and instantly have a giant smile on your face as Mathew says “Hi, baby.” The girls around you hoot and holler at your grin.

“Hey,” you say back to him.

“Wow, it sounds like you’re in a hockey locker room. How’s it going? I just wanted to check on you. I’m about to head out for my event.” Tito is taking Mathew and his friends to go golfing and then a dinner tonight for Mathew’s Bachelor party.

“Yeah, it seems like that sometimes. We’re doing well. We ate already and might get some dessert in a bit.”

“What are you guys talking about?”

“Funny enough, you.”

You can’t see him but you know that there’s a giant smirk on his face. “Oh yeah? What about me are you talking about?”

“Nothing in particular. Just everything I love about you. The way you walk around the apartment without a shirt. The way you kiss.”

“Well, make sure you tell them about that thing I do with my lips that makes you moan my name in bed.” You instantly feel the heat rush to both your face and core remembering exactly what Mathew is talking about.

“We’ve established that I wasn’t going to talk about things like that and also your sister is here, so.”

“Well, I’ll let you go and also Tito is yelling at me to get going. I love you, future-Mrs.-Barzal.”

“I love you, too, future husband.” You hang up the phone with a giant smile on your face and the girls around you all smile. “What?”

Sydney smiles back at you. “The giant smile on your face. Mathew makes you really happy.”

Your smile, if possible, gets wider. “Yeah, he makes me really happy, and I love him more than anything.”

“It’s obvious,” Candace says. “Also, what did he say to tell us that we established we weren’t going to discuss?”

You feel your cheeks warm up again. You ignore Candace’s statement and turn to the chocolate-chip muffin on your plate.

“Oh come on, Ynn. Tell us.

“Um, Liana, I’m sorry you have to hear this,” you begin hesitantly. She just looks at you. “He told me to tell you guys about that thing he does in bed that um,” Liana nods for you to continue. “Makes me moan and yell his name.”

The girls just stare at you.

“I’m not going to, though. That’s, um, a rather private matter, and I feel the need to express that I am not going to elaborate.”

Liana smiles. “Hey, at least my brother knows how to make you feel good, right?”

You look at her and are surprised that she’s not completely disgusted with what you said.

“Don’t worry. I’m here as your friend not Mathew’s brother.”

“Yn, we want more, please tell us more!” another one of the girls at the table says to you. You really didn’t want to brag about your relationship with Mathew. It was strong, loving, healthy, and made you extremely happy. There was something about Mathew, however, that made you want to talk about him and put him on display.

You smile. “What do you want to know?”

I've got his nights, I've got his name There ain't no shame in this girl's game If he was yours, you'd do the same Without apologizing

The girls wanted a story from the first year in your relationship. What story to tell them? There were so many. You first thought instantly goes to the first time you ever wore his jersey and went to one of his games. You begin telling the story.

You and Mathew had been dating for almost seven months before he invited you to a game. He wanted to make sure that you weren’t with him for his money or fame, and you understood that. You never prompted him or forced him to insert yourself into his life. You let Mathew decide when he wanted to introduce to his friends and teammates. You were fully content on watching Mathew from your television on game nights.

However, one night, Mathew decided that he wanted to have you at the game. It was a home game against the Rangers, a rivalry that has a long history in New York. He bought you your tickets and told you that your seats weren’t with the other WAGs per your request. You didn’t want to sit with them quite yet until you were ready, and Mathew respected that. Also, he had yet to tell anyone on the team he was seeing anyone.

When you left for work the morning of the game, Mathew was still there. However, when you got home, he wasn’t but in his place was a jersey. Not just any jersey, however, it was Mathew’s jersey with his number and last name on it. You looked at it and smiled; you couldn’t wait to wear it for him.

About an hour later, you put on the jersey and head to the arena. When you’re seated, you finally realize how close up your seats are. You looked around and were so giddy. You were going to be watching your boyfriend, whom you were sure you were in love with, play the sport he absolutely loves.

You watched the boys come out for warm ups, and your heart swelled. He was in his element, and he looked so happy. You loved how effortlessly he made the sport look, and you loved how he interacted with his teammates. You were so caught up in watching him that you didn’t notice that Mathew was watching you. It took a few moments, but you did eventually realize, and you both laughed. You remember someone, who you now know was Anders, smacking Mathew over the shoulder.

The Islanders won that night in a overtime, and you were beyond elated. Mathew told you that he’d meet you at your car and that he did.

When you saw him, you jumped into his arms and held him tightly. “You played so well, baby.”

Mathew pulls away for a moment and looks down at you. “Yeah, well I had the woman I love in the stands and my new good luck charm.”

You pull back for a moment. Were you hearing this right? Did Mathew just tell you he loved you?

“Before you start overthinking everything and scrunch up your nose in that really adorable way, let me just confirm, yes, I do love you. Yn, I love you.”

“I wasn’t going to overthink anything, you’re wrong.”

Matthew laughs. “You know, you’re avoiding the obvious.”

You knew you were. “I thought I was pointing out the obvious.”

“Do you need me to say it again, yn?” Mathew asks.

You pretend to ponder it. “Yeah, I do, Mathew.”

“Yn, I love you.”

You smile. “I love you, too, Mathew.” You remember him leaning down and kissing you. You remember that you both had to eventually separate so that you could drive back to your place. You remember that night that you fell asleep in Mathew’s arms hopeful of what can happen one day.

“Oh yeah, I remember that,” Grace says. You look at her puzzled. “Anders, Tito, and I think Sydney and Matt were there, too. Anders said that Mathew was staring at a girl, so we all followed Mathew secretly, and we saw you guys.”

“That’s right! That did happen!” Sydney remarks.

“So, you weren’t really shocked when Mathew finally introduced me to all of you?”

“No, we really weren’t. We didn’t quite see your face, but we knew Mathew was seeing someone.” Sydney answers.

“We finally realized what was behind Mathew’s stellar playing. Anders once came home from a roadie saying that Mathew was playing extremely well and wasn’t sure what to correlate it to. Now we know, it was you.” Grace says.

Your smile reaches ear to ear.

“That’s so cute and romantic, you guys. The two of you were made for each other.” Candace dotes.

You smile. You didn’t want to brag but yes, you and Mathew were made for each other. Yes, sometimes it was hard, but you knew that at the end of the day, you and Mathew loved each other to pieces.

“Hmm. Tell us about meeting Mathew for the first time. That has to be a story.” Tessa. You smile at the memory.

You were running late. The uptown 4 train in Brooklyn was having a bunch of delays, and you didn’t have time to walk to the closest 5 train station. The 4 train heading uptown to Brooklyn Bridge finally came and you jumped on. You breathed a sigh of relief as the train rolled away from the station. However, you became aggravated when it stopped in the middle of the tunnel, and an announcement came that the train would be moving shortly. Yeah, you knew what that meant. You could either be moving again in two minutes or two hours.

Twenty minutes passed, and your feet were starting to ache. You really wished that you wore flats on your commute and then changed into your heels at work.

“Did you want to sit?” someone asked. You remember looking up. “Your feet look like they’re killing you, did you want to sit? I don’t mind standing.”

“Oh, um, no it’s okay, I’m good.” You remember saying.

“No, really, I insist,” he insisted.

You shake your head. “I’m fine, I promise.”

“So, then, if I stand up, you’re not going to sit down?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“No, someone else can sit,” you remember saying. You weren’t one to take up offers like this out of respect for the other person, and you were also very stubborn.

He chuckles and sighs. “Can you just sit? I don’t know why you won’t take up the offer of my generosity. I just don’t think you’re really all that comfortable.”

You hesitate.

“What if,” he proposes. “I got up and said I wanted to stretch my legs, and you just took up the opportunity to sit?”

You look at him and are about to say something, but he gets up and mumbles something about needing to stretch his legs. He gives you a knowing look (one that you’ve grown to love). and you know you are going to sit. So, you sit. You breathe a sigh of relief, and he laughs softly.

“See, was that so hard?”

You look at him and grumble. “No.”

He laughs and time passes quickly. It only took thirty more minutes after this for the train to start moving. You exited the Brooklyn Bridge - City Hall station ninety minutes after you would have liked. You were fast walking because you had to catch the Uptown 3 train.

“Hey, wait,” you don’t think this person is talking to you, so you keep walking. He taps your shoulder, and you finally turn around. “I know this is weird, but can I get your number?”

You remember looking at him shocked and he laughed at you.

“I’m Mathew, and there’s something about you that I want to get to know better.”

For some reason, that cheesy line made you smile, and you gave him your number. And, as they say, the rest is history.

“Wait, Mathew took the subway?” Liana asks puzzled.

“Yeah, he said that he was running late for meeting Tito, and he thought taking the subway would be faster. Clearly, it wasn’t.” You explain.

“Oh, Yn, give us more stories about you and Matthew,” one of the girls says.

You smile softly. You really weren’t sure what else more to say. You really didn’t want to brag about your relationship with Mathew. The constant theme in your relationship was that you kept private things private. Mathew was private in the sense of the media, and you were just a private person all around. But, something about today and the girls asking made you want to spill literally everything.

“I’d ask about the proposal, but Mathew has shared that a million times,” Candace jokes. “Just give us a random story that makes you laugh or smile.”

“I can give you that,” you say. You ruminate for a moment and begin.

Matthew was spending the weekend with you because he didn’t have any games, and they just came off of a two week road trip. You guys missed each other, and, at the stage your relationship was at, being without each other for even an hour was unbearable. This was not to say, though, that it was easy to be apart now. Only, now, you both have learned to find a way to make that pain ease a bit.

It was 12:34pm on a Saturday, and you were hungry for lunch. Mathew said he was taking you out for his favorite sushi place and told you to eat a light lunch. So, you were going to make some avocado toast. No, nothing fancy. The basic summary was that you had pumpernickel bread and a ripe avocado that might go bad soon.

You retreat from the warmth of Mathew, the pillows, and blankets to make some toast. You didn’t hear Mathew follow you; you actually didn’t think he was going to considering you told him you’d just bring it to him. You put the bread in the toaster and pulled out a knife to cut the avocado. You waited for a few minutes as the bread toasted. You looked out into the living room but didn’t see Mathew. You figured that he went to the washroom.

The toaster dings, and the toast pops out. You put the toast on the plate and begin cutting the avocado to spread onto the toast. Suddenly, you feel two very strong arms snake around your waist. It’s Matthew, who else?

“You cut your avocado weirdly,” he says, and you just look at him.

What? “What?”

“You cut the avocado weirdly.”

You snicker. “What is a not weird way to cut your avocado?”

“I don’t know, I just know you cut it weirdly.”

“Why can’t it be that I cut it normally, and you cut it weirdly?”

“Because, yn, you need a weird thing.”

You giggle. “Why do I need a weird thing?”

“Because all people in a relationship have a weird thing that only the other person in it knows.”

“So, you’re telling me that my weird thing is that I cut avocados weirdly?”

“Mhm, exactly.” Mathew takes a piece of toast with avocado already on it and bites into it.

“Despite that, though, you still make very tasty avocado toast, babe.”

“Well, if my weird thing is about cutting avocado, what’s you weird thing?”

“I don’t know, you have to figure it out on your own.”

You remember smiling and then kissing his cheek. Dinner that night did not disappoint, and Mathew brought you to the right restaurant.

“Did you ever figure out what his weird thing was?” Sydney asks.

“I mean, no? But, like, the way I cut the avocado is not weird, so I’m not sure what he was getting at. I told him that the way he ties his shoes was weird.”

“Not the skates?” Grace asks.

“No, not the skates. I told him that there was a difference between the skates and the shoes.”

The girls laugh. “How did you do that? Isn’t it the same?” Candace asks. “It is, but he wouldn’t tell me why the avocado cutting was weird, so I did this. He took me to the rink the day after I told him and forced me to watch him tie his skates like ten times. I guess it’s what I deserve.”

“That was a cute story. As my future sister-in-law, I want to say, I’m glad Mathew has you in his life.” Liana says.

You smile. “I can drink to that.” You all clink your glasses and take a sip.

You loved these girls and were so glad that you got to celebrate your Bachelorette with them. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

If he were a wine, he'd be the shelf at the top (Top) If he were a house, he'd be the end of the block (Block) Walked up to my heart and went, "Knock, knock, knock" So I've got to show him off

You got home that day at 4:00 pm and before Mathew. You were expecting that; Tito told you that Mathew and the boys would be out later only because their day started later. You went into your bedroom and changed out of your bride-to-be outfit and into your comfortable clothes. You took off your makeup and put your hair in a comfortable style. You were going to use the time to open some of the invitations you’ve received and mark down their attendance and meal choices.

Constantly, though, your mind went straight to Mathew. Every thought you had went back to Mathew but not in a sophomoric, conceited way. In a way that expressed your true love for him and how you felt. You didn’t like talking about your relationship with Mathew often; you enjoyed the privacy, and it allowed you to grow as a person both in the relationship and outside it.

However, this didn’t mean that you didn’t want to talk about Mathew all the time. You knew that if you didn’t control yourself, you’d be one of those girls that brought up her boyfriend at the most random times. You also knew that those types of girls were annoying, so you tried not to be like that.

That didn’t mean you didn’t let your mind wander to those places. Mathew was amazing. Sure, there were some flaws, but the great things about him enormously outweighed the flaws. Mathew had the most beautiful hazel eyes you have ever seen. Even if you had friends who hazel eyes, their eye color didn’t match Mathew’s, nothing could. He could be doing the most mundane task or thing and you’d immediately fall more in love. No question about it.

Physically? Mathew had the body of a Greek god and that drove your crazy. When he constantly walked around with a shirt on? You had to force yourself not to jump up and kiss him or run your hands down his broad, firm chest. When you both sat on the couch and he didn’t have a shirt on, you absolutely adored just running your hand up and down his abs as if it were a pillow. Yeah, you wanted to shout from your balcony that you had a hot boyfriend, no, fiance now, that you loved. You loved running your fingers through his hair. There was softness that was indescribable. His hair was rough but also soft at the same time. You constantly wanted to be touching him. All the time. You just needed to be close to Mathew at all times. You didn’t want to say you were clingy because you weren’t. You were just in love and wanted to be in the presence with him at all times. You loved to tell Mathew that you felt so lucky that you got to even be in the same universe as him. He laughed and said the fact that he got to even get your number was remarkable to him.

You were both crazy about each other and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

I don't wanna be a bragger But my man's a heart attacker (Oh, he is) Like McConaughey and Jagger Hotter than a Saturday night I can't help it that I flaunt him (All the time) I understand why you would want him (I don't mind) And you can keep up all the chatter 'bout my happy ever after 'Cause all that really matters is he's mine

Mathew got home that night at 9:32.

“Oh, you’re home early,” you said, and he came down and sat next to you.

Mathew smirked. “Hiding me from your boyfriend?”

Your face turns warm. “No, I just thought that you’d want to celebrate the last of your bachelor years with the boys instead of at home with me.”

“I celebrated my bachelor years already; now I’m coming home and celebrating what my future holds.”

You smile. “Look at you, Mathew Barzal; don’t you know the way into a girl’s heart.”

“I only want your heart, babe,” Mathew says and then kisses you. “How was your day with the girls?”

“It was nice. Oh! Did you know that Anders, Matt, Tito, Grace, and Sydney knew we were dating before you began officially hinting at it and introduced me?”

“What?”

“Yeah! I was telling them about the first time I went to one of your games, and Grace said they caught on to you staring at a girl. She was saying that they followed you secretly and saw us.”

“That’s, wow. I’m not sure how to respond.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter, now, does it? We are getting married.”

“That indeed we are, babe,” Mathew says as he reaches down and places a kiss on your temple. “So, what else did you talk about?”

“Wedding planning, you, other stuff, normal girl talk.”

“Did you just say ‘you’ as in me?”

You turn your head away bashfully. “Maybe.”

Mathew laughs his deep belly laugh. “What did you guys say? I mean, I know you were talking about me, but I didn’t think it was a lot.”

“They just wanted me to brag about you and everything. I told them about the story of when we first met, the avocado thing, how you don’t walk around with a shirt, the first time I went to one of your games.”

“Oh, speaking of,” Mathew takes off his shirt, and you laugh. Of course.

“They just wanted me to brag about my love and relationship with you.”

“You should, as bride-to-be.”

“How was your day?” you ask.

“Pretty good; it was fun, but I missed you.”

“Yeah, I missed you, too.”

“It’s funny, we can go a long time without seeing one another when I’m on the road. Don’t get me wrong, it’s quite unbearable but this honestly felt worse.”

“My take is that because we both know that we’re in the same city and can be with each other in probably under an hour. However, when you’re on the road, it’s less hard because you know that you have to be there.”

“Look at you, my intellectual fiance. Our children better get all your traits.”

“I think they should get your looks.”

“I don’t think so; no no.”

“I’m not arguing with you on this. How about a good mix?”

“Perfect, babe.” Mathew kisses you. “Do you want to go to bed? Maybe I can do that thing to you I was referencing earlier?”

The heat instantly rushes to your face, and Mathew instantly knows he’s got you in the palm of his hands. The way your eyes bulged out and swallowed deeply, Mathew just knew.

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” he picks you up and carries you to bed.

Yeah, you didn’t want to brag about your relationship with Mathew, but he was too amazing not to.

I don't wanna be a bragger But my man's a heart attacker (Oh, he is) Like McConaughey and Jagger Hotter than a Saturday night I can't help it that I flaunt him (All the time) I understand why you would want him (I don't mind) And you can keep up all the chatter 'bout my happy ever after 'Cause all that really matters is he's mine

Taglist: @goalision @coffee-ontherocks @glassdanse @barzal-burakovsky @petey-patty @beauvibaby @boqvistsbabe @rmaye @heatherawoowoo @heaveniish @stars-canucks @tkapuckit @mellany1997 @nhlboyshavemyhart88 @heybarzy @2manytabsopen @habsfan @besthockeyfics @plds2000 @kaitieskidmore1 @iwantahockeyhimbo @sidscrosbyy (Join my taglist here!)

[kingandfireheart]

Okay I need to rant I need to get this off my chest

WHAT EVEN WAS THE LEGACY COME ONNNN

I was so fucking excited and now I'm just 🥴

Where tf do I even start ugh

1) Logan and Grace were supposed to get married right? We were supposed to get a wedding right? But did we? Uh NO. If there's was supposed to a wedding, we should have gotten a wedding man!! I was so excited for a wedding scene because we rarely get wedding scenes in books, and we were supposed to get Logan and Grace's and we were robbed!! AT THE END!? What even was that 🥴

2) Okay so Hannah and Garrett. THEY DIDN'T EVEN FEEL LIKE HANNAH AND GARRETT IN THIS ONE🥺 I was so excited for them because come on they're so beautiful together and The Deal was so beautiful and this one🥺 why the miscommunication🥺 and most of the time Garrett was dealing with his father, which is ok he has trauma, but this was H&G's story and it didn't feel like it. And Hannah not telling G about her pregnancy and waiting for that long uh huh😬 but that last scene when G gets a jersey for the baby and they find out that they're having twins, TWINS😍, his only reaction was that he only got one jersey😂❤️

3) Dean and Allie were actually good in this. I liked the proposal and Dean asking of her father's blessing and the entire thing was so cute and beautiful and they felt like the couple that I had read.

4) I'm yet to read Tucker and Sabrina's story but I'm like so disappointed after the first two that I couldn't go ahead and read it. 🥺

I few things I actually loved,

The boys dynamic ❤️

- the bachelor party was awesome

- Dean practicing his proposal at G and Logan just 😂❤️

- G and Logan's scene in H&G's story where they're at the function and G's mad about Logan getting married without him and saying that he's gonna give Dean the best man position but Logan says that he won't and G sighs and says that he's not and Hannah teases them to get a room CHEF'S KISS 😍❤️❤️

- Tucker's psycho speech when they're in the limo and talking about Dean proposing at the wedding I LOVED IT SO MUCH LIKE 😍❤️😂 that entire speech was so awesome man I love these boys so much

- Logan running to G's room after a fan crashes his room and after he forces G to get adjoining rooms THE BEST😍

- The entire thing with Aleksander was kinda funny but eh

I love Jamie so much ❤️🥰

What was I looking forward to- some Hannah and Allie moments, I mean they're bffs right but we got nothing

I was kinda looking forward to some group time with all of them together but it didn't happen. This was supposed to be a closing thing but it didn't feel like it you know? Maybe I was expecting something else, and I get it that not everyone can be satisfied, but still, it didn't feel like a ending 😬

Anyhoo I got to see my baby boys and I loved all four of them so much in this just best thing out of this book was the boys' moments together ❤️❤️

Okay The legacy rant anon,

I finally read it! I split up my comments by the sections, but yeah, I don’t regret my decision to wait for the book, but it was nice!

Logan and Grace:

I was obviously hoping to see the wedding, but I thought this chapter was really sweet. Logan and Grace felt like such a sweet couple once they got through their issue in the Mistake and I’m honestly sad we didn’t see more of them in Briar U series. I know this chapter was recycled but I had never read it before. It so nice to see how they’ve both grown up and still have so much of their charm.

I love the doll jokes. I love that Logan still brings up Winston. I love that they are with each other through thick and thin. I love that the girlfriends have a group chat. I love that Dean and Tucker are still a part of their lives even though they don’t play hockey. I have always loved John Logan the most of these four and the fact that he calls Grace “Gorgeous” (100 times better than baby doll imho).

Dean and Allie:

I saw a spoiler for this one and avoided reading it for a long time because I knew it would break my little heart to see these two fight. But honestly? I’m with you. Dean and Allie are all about meeting each other where they’re at and it warmed my heart.

I also loved mentions of my absolute faves: Conor Edwards and Jake Connelly (and the Chad and Doctor Mom cameo!!!) Allie finding out about Grace and Hannah was gold. Grace sending Alexander was gold. Garrett Graham and John Tucker own my heart, only to be bested by Jamie Tucker!! Fitzy is such a simp. Hollis is amazing and I’m sad about the lack of Rupi content. What really stole the show for me though, was the guys showing up for the Hockey game. I love a good team spirit moment, but I love a “we love you man” moment even more!!

Tucker and Sabrina:

Honestly? This one was a bit predictable to me. I was hoping Sabrina and Tucker would have worked out their communication problems after the Goal, but it makes sense that it all bubbled up at the worst possible time.

Once again, love the group chats and Alexander. Love the meddling gay couple. Everything else was kind of meh though. Maybe I’m just at a weird stage in life, but the career fulfillment plotline was just not compelling to me.

Garrett and Hannah:

JAKE CONNELLY MY LOVE 😍 I mean Jake wasn’t THE highlight of the book, but still a major highlight honestly, I’d throw away all of these novellas for a Briar U Follow Up Novel. Seriously my love for Jake and Conor knows no end

I thought this one was good! I’m glad Garrett finally came to terms with his dad and his abuse. I’m glad Hannah may finally have a way to save her parents. I’m glad they’re both doing well career wise and Hannah and Allie get to be engaged at the same time. But Wellsy and G were always endgame and this whole “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME” plot was kind of repetitive. Like their problems in the Deal came from Hannah not telling Garrett about his fathers threats. Why do that plot line twice?

Overall

I’m not sure why Elle wrote the book outside of fan-service. It was heavily implied the couples are endgame. They still had issues to overcome, and the epilogues with the time jumps and the Briar U appearances (especially in Hunter’s novel) showed the characters made it. I would have loved to see more interactions with the Briar U couples, but I get that that wasn’t really the point of the book.

If I’m honest, I think I loved the friendship bonding moments the most (you’ve mentioned most of them). I have this headcanon of all 9 couples (off campus + briar u + Rupi and Hollis) all getting together and chatting and having a fun time. I loved the Alexander stuff and the group chats, I loved the ongoing jokes. I didn’t really like seeing 4 couples that got their HEA get into fights and rehash issues from their books.

If Elle does write more in this series, I want (1) more Hollis and Rupi (2) Hunter, Demi, Taylor, and Conor’s senior year (But like just the happy fluffy parts- maybe a fun scene with all 4 of them hanging out, but no more couple fighting and problems) (3) more Summer and Brenna friendship

[fandom-imagines-stories]

A Bourbon Street Wedding

Enzo St. John x Mikaelson! Reader

Part 4 of 4: ( Part One, Part Two, Part Three)

Words: 3859

Summary: The big day has finally arrived.  You couldn’t have asked for anything more perfect. 

Notes: I can’t believe it’s been around 3ish years since I started this series. To anyone out there who is still reading, thank you! This is the final part in my Enzo and the Originals Series and I really hope you guys enjoyed. Thank you so much for reading! Warning: So much fluff ahead. Lovey dovey fluff, family fluff, just all kinds of fluff. 

-

The New Orleans’ sound did not wake you up. It was the feeling of someone looming over you as you slept that crept deep into your slumbering mind and forced you awake. Your eyes fluttered open and you screamed. Caroline stood over you, hands on her hips and rage in her eyes. 

“How are you still sleeping?” She shrieked yanking the covers off of you. You groaned and turned your head to look at the alarm clock. “The wedding is only seven hours away! We need to get ready!” Enzo rolled over, covering his ears with his pillow. Caroline grabbed your hand and Enzo’s arm and dragged you out of the bed.  

“Caroline, I appreciate how much you’ve done to help, but-” Enzo started groggily. Caroline shoved a bag of hair product at him and pushed him out into the hall. 

“Damon got here earlier, he’s waiting downstairs for you.” 

“But-”

“No, buts, we are already way behind schedule.” Caroline huffed. Her planner-face calmed and she smiled at both of you, stepping to the side so you could look at each other. “Alright, you two. This is it.” The last time you would see each other before the ceremony. You just stared at Enzo, speechless. Neither of you could even begin to know what to say, so you just laughed nervously. Caroline slammed the door. “Okay, let’s do this.” 

Bonnie, Rebekah, and Hayley all burst into the room. Hayley pushed play on the stereo and music blasted, mostly cheesy romance songs that Caroline had insisted upon. Bonnie popped a bottle of champagne and Rebekah toyed with your hair while Hayley and Caroline talked about their daughters. 

“Hope is staying with her grandmother this morning. Mary is bringing her later.” Hayley explained. 

“Ric’s staying with the girls. He sends his best.” Caroline announced. You nodded and smiled. Alaric was your friend, despite his complicated relationship with the rest of your family. Then again, most of your friends had a complicated relationship with your family. Caroline scowled. “Stefan has elected himself as the selfless martyr who will not be attending so he doesn’t ‘cause a scene’.” She rolled her eyes. You took her hand swinging it back and forth playfully. 

“You deserve better.” You noted. Bonnie raised a glass.

“Amen to that.” She handed out the drinks and the morning passed by with many giggles and indecisive arguments over what color lipstick you should wear. When all was settled, you were cast into a frenzy of makeup and hair curlers until Caroline declared your look to be ‘just right’. 

Meanwhile, downstairs, a reluctant vampire stood outside the gate, tempted to turn around and run as fast as he could in the opposite direction. Of course, the first person to greet him didn’t exactly put his mind at ease. 

“Damon Salvatore…” Klaus chuckled darkly. “What a pleasure to see you again.” 

“Niklaus.” Elijah called from inside. “Do stop frightening the best man.” The oldest living Mikaelson came out and stood by his brother. “Hello Damon.” Damon gave the pair a reluctant wave. The magic witchy Mikaelson- one that Damon didn’t even know existed until now- invited him in and the three lead him to the room where Enzo was getting ready. Damon death-glared him as Freya went upstairs and the brothers stood on either side of him, like minions of death. 

“Please tell me you’ve got bourbon.” He grumbled, side-glancing the two originals, waiting for one to pounce. Enzo watched in irritation as Damon threw his stupid, trademarked leather jacket onto the chair. Kol glared from his spot on the sofa. 

“I thought we’d already gone over the guest list.” He sneered. “I would’ve made sure that this-”

“Behave yourself Kol.” Elijah warned. 

“It’s nice to know none of you have changed.” Damon snarked, snatching up the bottle of bourbon on the side-table. He poured himself a drink and downed it quickly. “And neither has your taste in liquor.” Enzo growled.

“You’re here for a reason, Damon.” He groaned. “You already missed the bachelor party, now please, do something helpful.” 

“You missed one hell of a night, Damon.” Kol smirked, licking his lips. 

“Yeah, I heard about those call girls going missing.” Damon noted. “I’m surprised at you, Elijah. I never took you for one of us miscreants.” Elijah kept up his stoic expression, his tone betraying his slight annoyance.

“I refrained from last night's activities.” 

“He was absolutely no fun.” Klaus whined. “Lovesick fool. Hayley’s practically got him on a leash.” Kol and Klaus both snickered. Elijah shook his head, but couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He really was a lovesick fool, not that he was ashamed to admit it. And with Davina and Cami both gone, he didn’t reprimand his brothers for their partying. 

“I believe that I was not the only so-called ‘buzzkill’ at the party.” He pointed out, his eyes on the groom. Damon’s jaw dropped. 

“Enzo?” He fake-gasped. “Has our blood-thirsty party man finally turned into a hopeless romantic?” Enzo rolled his eyes and shrugged. 

“Just because I’m not a brute, doesn’t mean I’m a hopeless romantic.” He smirked. “Undeniably in love, yes. But not hopeless.” 

“I think I’m going to be sick.” Kol pretended to gag. “You remember you’re speaking of my twin? I know a couple secrets about her you would not find so romantic.” 

“Kol.” Elijah scolded. “We wouldn’t want Lorenzo getting cold feet now would we?”

“Yes because then I would have to remove them.” Klaus threatened, casting a dark look to the groom. Enzo gulped and began to tie his tie over his pristine white shirt. Elijah had picked it out, which meant that it was the best money could buy. 

You both looked perfect. After all, this was the biggest moment in all your centuries of living. The girls gathered around you and let out a collective sigh of awe. This was it. 

The guests were beginning to arrive and you felt your heart pounding, wishing that you could be with him to calm your nerves. But of course, it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony and with your shared history of weddings, you needed all the luck you could get.  And so you waited, tapping your foot at an alarming speed and trying to take deep breaths. 

“Everything alright dear sister?” Kol wondered with a smirk, leaning against your doorway. Caroline, Rebekah, Bonnie and Hayley were all getting ready to be the perfect bridesmaids and Freya was preparing to officiate the wedding. She had been so excited when you asked her and you couldn’t think of anyone else you wanted to say the words ‘I now pronounce you husband and wife’. 

“What could go wrong?” You looked at your twin and smiled nervously. Kol’s face suddenly darkened. 

“Well I can think of something.” He growled. You turned to see who he was looking at and gasped. Kol stepped towards Marcel.  “I don’t recall sending your invitation.” 

“I just came to tell Y/N congratulations.” He held up his hands a sign of peace. “I don’t want to cause any problems. Not today.” Kol continued to loom ferociously over Marcel until you stepped in between them. 

“Kol, why don’t you go make sure that Klaus hasn’t killed any of the guests? I don’t want a single speck of blood on him when he and Elijah walk me down the aisle.” You were able to shoo him away before he could object, turning back to Marcel with fiery eyes. “Of all the days you decide to make amends…”

“I’m not asking for your forgiveness for not telling you I was alive all those years.” He started. “I’m asking you not to hate me. All I want is for things to go back to the way they were before everything happened. We were pretty close friends, you and me.” 

Thick as thieves, more like it. While Marcel was like a son to your older brother and a lover to Rebekah, he was always one of your dearest friends. You were devastated when you believed your father had killed him. When you discovered he was really alive, you were both relieved and furious. All those years and never once had he reached out to find you. Seeing him stand before you now erased all of your anger. 

“You say it like I’ve forgotten.” You cried, pulling him into a hug. “Thank you for coming, Marcel. You don’t know how much it means to me.” You pushed away with a small smile on your face and tears in your eyes. 

“Hey,” He comforted, placing a hand on your cheek. “We can’t have you crying before the wedding.” 

“Would you stay?” You pleaded. “Please, Marcel. It would make this day even more perfect.” He gave you a look. 

“Can you promise none of your siblings are going to try to kill me?”

“You know I can’t.” You both laughed and he agreed to stay, sneaking down into the courtyard where the ceremony was taking place. With him gone, you were alone again and the unstoppable nerves returned. “Come on, Y/N. You have faced centuries of trials and vicious enemies. You’re just-”

“Pledging to spend the rest of eternity with someone with probably as much emotional baggage as yourself?” Klaus finished, stepping into the room. Elijah had managed to get him into a suit and he completed it with his famous mischievous grin. 

“Shouldn’t you be downstairs with Elijah?” You put your hands on your hips. 

“Oh come now, don’t be so cross. It is, after all, the happiest day of your life.” He replied smugly. “I simply wanted a word with you before the festivities begin.” He led you to sit on one of the sofas, taking your hand in his own. 

“What’s this about, Nik?”

“I know that I have been… difficult these past centuries.” He smirked and you couldn’t help but laugh in agreement. “The truth is, Y/N, that I am completely afraid of losing your love to someone else. But I have seen the way you are with Enzo and I simply cannot bring myself to take it away from you. I may be a selfish bastard, but even I do not wish to see you unhappy. I wish you the most joyous life, Y/N.” 

“Klaus,” You placed a kiss on your brother’s shoulder. “My love for you will never falter or diminish, no matter how much of a thorn in my side you are.” He gave you the loving smile that you often wished to see more of. Klaus was troubled and all you hoped for was that one day he would find the kind of happiness you had found with Enzo. 

“You look stunning.” Elijah noted from the doorway. He held out his arm. “Shall we?” Klaus and you stood and the three of you walked down to where you would be entering. Caroline and Bonnie would be first, then Rebekah with Damon, and Kol insisted on announcing you like some kind of queen. You were pretty sure he just wanted to get a laugh out of the crowd before you walked down the aisle. Of course, it was just nice to have your twin want to take part. 

You could feel yourself trembling as Caroline and Bonnie started walking. Rebekah and Damon were bickering even as they began down the aisle. You took shaky breaths and felt Elijah chuckle. 

“Everything is going to be fine.” He assured you. 

“You know, it’s never too late for me to kill him.” Klaus whispered and you elbowed his side. Kol gave you one final smirk before heading out to the front of the space. 

“Ladies and gentlemen!” He greeted. “You are all here to celebrate the union between Enzo St. John and my beautiful sister, Y/N Mikaelson. Us being twins, I could share a great deal of stories about Y/N…” He looked back towards you and you glared at him. “But that will have to wait until the reception. Now, without further adieu,” He had an exceptionally smug smile on his face now and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his final words. “Here comes the bride.” 

Enzo finally was allowed to turn around as the music began to play. His heart leapt and his breath hitched. You were the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen. In fact, gorgeous wasn’t even the right word for it. Nothing could describe how you looked as you walked towards him.  As if his eyes alone had calmed you, you felt your nerves wash away and the brightest smile spread across your face as you took the first step down the aisle. The faces of your closest friends turned towards you and with each step, you felt emotions bubbling up inside. As you reached the end, Klaus gave you a wink before taking his place beside Damon, removing a stake for his pocket. 

“Klaus!” You hissed. He gave you a mischievous grin.

“Couldn’t resist.” He said, Damon taking the stake from him.  Elijah lifted your veil and you felt a tear roll down your cheek. He smiled and wiped it away, placing a kiss on your forehead. 

Freya beamed at you as she greeted the crowd and thanked them for coming to witness your union. Enzo couldn’t take his eyes off of you. The ceremony itself was simple and you and Enzo stared into each other’s eyes the entire time.

“May I have the rings?” Your oldest sister asked. Damon handed Enzo your ring and Rebekah handed you his. “The couple has prepared their own vows.” Freya nodded for you to begin and you took a deep breath, taking both of his hands in yours.

“The first day we met, you were trying to kill my best friend. However, just a few years previous so had I.” You laughed through the tears now freely falling down your face. “I thought that the only promise I would make was to my family. Our code of always being there for each other, and although it has been tested- multiple times-” You shot Klaus a look. “I want to extend that to you. I promise to love you and to protect you and cherish you. Always and forever.” You slid the ring onto his finger and laughed to yourself, wiping away the tears. You looked into his eyes to see that he was crying too.

“I didn’t know what it was like to be loved.” He began and for a moment you thought he’d blubber more than you had. He always was a romantic. But he composed himself as best he could. “Until I met you. You saw past all of the bloodshed in my past. All of my pain and anger. You had had your fair share of hurt over the years and you decided to take a broken soul and mend it. You saved me.” He took a deep breath, feeling a tear roll down his cheek. “And I plan to spend the rest of our lives trying to repay you for the love that you’ve shown me. Always and forever.” He put the ring on your finger and you both laughed at how emotional you both were. Freya smiled. 

“What are you waiting for? Kiss her.” The crowd erupted in applause as Enzo dramatically pulled you into his arms and lowered you into a dip before kissing you for the first time as your husband. 

-

The reception was held at Rousseau’s, which was heavily decorated with roses and lights to the point that it no longer looked like a bar, but something from a fairy tale. Again, the handy work of Caroline. Klaus watched Caroline from his seat at the head table as everyone waited for you and Enzo to arrive. 

“Now that Lorenzo is officially family, I recommend you don’t give him the same treatment that you gave us for the past few centuries.” Elijah straightened his cufflinks with a smile, giving Klaus a side glance. 

“Of course not, Elijah. The daggers don't work on him.” Klaus grinned mischievously. “Although, there’s always the crypt in the basement.” 

“Don’t even think about it.” Rebecca chimed in. Elijah looked across the table to Hayley, feeling a deep desire to one day have this with her. To have the happiness that his sister was now experiencing. Hayley saw him and smiled, her eyes lighting up his soul, or whatever was left of it. Perhaps one day...

The doors opened and the newlyweds entered. You still couldn’t quite believe it. In all your years of living, you couldn’t think of a moment when you were half as happy as you were now. Enzo’s fingers were laced with yours as you walked towards the main table, seeing the smiles on your friends and family’s faces. The guests cheered as you took your seats. Dinner was quickly served and it wasn’t long before Rebecca stood, tapping her glass with her spoon to get the room’s attention. 

“Ah yes, it is time for the dreaded speeches.” She announced with a smile. “Being the maid of honor, I am obligated to speak for my dear older sister. And since I have over a thousand years of stories, it was difficult to pick just one. I succeeded however, in finding a memory that I believe best describes my sister.

“She and Elijah were the only two to escape Klaus without being daggered and shoved into a box.” She gave Klaus a brief glare before continuing. “In the late 1800’s, when I awoke, many things had changed. People I loved turned their back on me.” Her eyes came across Marcel, but didn’t linger for long. “Elijah reintroduced me back into society, but it was Y/N who helped me nurse a broken heart. She made me believe in my own strength again. Y/N showed me the love that only an older sister could. I am beyond delighted that her heart has finally found its equal.” She looked at Enzo happily and feigned a scowl. “But know that should anything happen to her, you will not only have my brothers to worry about.” 

“Duly noted.” Enzo nodded, his hand having never left yours. All eyes were now on the best man. Damon took a long drink from his glass and stood reluctantly. 

“There isn’t a lot I can say about Enzo before him and Y/N met. When Enzo and I first knew each other we were prisoners. We were trapped together, tortured together, and experimented on.” You felt Enzo’s grip on your hand tighten at the memory. “When I got my chance to escape, I took it. I betrayed him. Decades later, he swore revenge on me and tried to kill my girlfriend.” Reading the confusion in the crowd, he smirked. “Don’t worry, this bromance has a happy ending.” 

“Of sorts.” Enzo whispered to you and you both laughed quietly. 

“My point is that Enzo hated my guts until Y/N got him to forgive me. I believe her words were ‘There are better ways to spend an eternity than seeking revenge. Especially against an old friend.’ Anyway, here I am and here they are, so I guess we all know the end of that story.” Damon glanced at you and despite his usual smirk, you could see the sincerity in his eyes. “Elena was always rooting for the two of you to end up together, so that meant I have to too.” The crowd chuckled at his last comment, but you stood up from your chair and pulled the snarky vampire into a hug. 

“Thank you, Damon.” You whispered. “I miss her too.” You felt him return the embrace and smile sadly against your cheek. 

“She would have loved this, you know. All the gushy romance and twinkling lights.” He said, fixing a hair that had fallen out of place and tucking it behind your ear. You nodded.

“You’ll have this with her someday, Damon. And when you do, I will be the one giving the speech.” 

“Over my dead body, Mikaelson.” He snarked. “But I guess is Mikaelson St. John now. Jeez, that’s a mouthful.”

“Sit down, Salvatore.” You shook your head in amusement. As you went back to your seat beside your husband, you noticed a member of the wedding party’s chair was empty. A rush of panic shot through you. “Elijah, where’s Klaus?” 

All of your siblings turned to the vacant seat and their eyes widened. Everyone started to split up to go find him before he could cause any trouble. 

“I’ll go get Caroline, she went to the bathroom.” Bonnie said, taking off in the direction of the restrooms. You and Enzo decided to check the kitchen but were not at all prepared for what you would find. Sure enough, there was Klaus. And Caroline. On the counter. You quickly shut the door, trying to contain your laughter. You took Enzo’s hand and headed back to the table, grinning like an idiot.

“Well it’s about time.”

-

As the night slowly died down, Enzo clinked his glass to acquire the crowd’s attention. Everyone focused on him as he stood, shooting you a bright smile. 

“May I have everyone’s attention? First and foremost I would like to thank each of you for coming out to celebrate this wondrous occasion. Some of you are from this beautiful city, and some came all the way from a small town called Mystic Falls.” He turned to Damon and smirked before returning his loving gaze to you. “But to end the night, I wanted to say a few words to my new wife, Y/N.”  You felt the blush rise to your cheeks and the warmth rush over you. 

“A few months ago, I discovered who my family was. As it turns out, after a century of searching and hoping, they turned out to be a bunch of thieves and betrayers. No resemblance to me, I’m sure.” The room laughed. “I’ll admit that I was crushed. But now, the Mikaelsons have accepted me into their family, some more willing than others.” Klaus shrugged with a smirk, still flushed from his little rondevu earlier. 

“I almost had you.” He teased. Enzo continued, holding his hand out for you, lifting you to stand beside him.

“None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for the brilliant, caring, incredibly sexy-” he winked and you giggled, “most wonderful girl that came into my life when I thought I had no reason left to live.” You laid a hand on his shoulder, feeling tears start to well up in your eyes as they started to in his. “She made me see that maybe there was a slight shred of hope in this eternity we were both stuck with. Y/N became my world. A world I would do anything to protect.” His hand slipped into yours. “Now we may have our disagreements, and I’m sure we have a long road of bickering and evading certain doom.” He held up his glass in one last toast for the night. “So here’s to one hell of a forever.”

-

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination;  @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks

[yoonpobs]

things change | jhs

pairing: jung hoseok x oc

genre: FLUFFFFFF, established relationship

words: 3, 377

summary: when you're an unlikely pair but it works

“Do you ever wonder what it would be like if you weren’t with her?” Yoongi slurs, his alcohol breath apparent enough for Hoseok to scrunch in his direction.

Hoseok knew, though. What he meant. Drunk Yoongi got sentimental and curious, two perceptions that were dangerous independently and possibly collateral together.

“I don’t.” Hoseok shrugs.

Because being with you was the best thing that’s happened to him and he would be a crazy man to ever put himself through the angst of imagining a world that he was Jung Hoseok without you by his side. It was cheesy and he was sure if he said it to your face you’d groan and shove him by the shoulder. But he’s always been observant and he’d be the first to see the way your eyes soften in a way that no one else can notice but him.

“I do.” Yoongi snorts.

Hoseok raises an eyebrow. “Is there something you’d like to tell me?” He’s careful with his words because Yoongi was no snitch, even if he was absolutely wasted. But Hoseok can’t say his interest isn’t piqued. Especially when he surrendered himself to the DD (designated driver) of the group.

“It’s just”—Yoongi sighs, sitting up and his drink sloshes in his cup when he places it onto the table—“I’ve said this before and you’ve probably heard this a thousand times but the two of you are so different.”

Hoseok remains silent but doesn’t do anything to give away the thoughts floating through his mind. He was half-expecting the same words to leave his friend's mouth, but having it be confirmed only makes Hoseok internalise his sighs.

“Yeah. You and every person who’s seen the two of us together.” Hoseok grunts.

“Look. I know you hate it when people point it out.” Yoongi says. “And I’m not here to tell you what you already know and on a fundamental level, we both know that the birds of a feather flock together bullshit is redundant and unrealistic. It’s just that every time I see the two of you together—it works. And it’s bewildering maybe because I can’t ever imagine _____ letting you win an argument.”

Hoseok blinks. “She doesn’t.”

Yoongi snickers, throwing the last bit of his drink down his throat before leaning back into the plush booth of the club they were at.

When Jin suggested throwing a bachelor party at one of the hottest nightclubs in Seoul, Yoongi and Hoseok almost ditched purely because the two of them had girlfriends and they didn’t really want to hear the end of the story if a stripper suddenly thought they were free game for the night.

Frankly, Yoongi’s girl was far more possessive but she was sweet. She just didn’t like it when people were actively trying to sleep with her boyfriend.

You, on the other hand, were simply unbothered. It wasn’t because you didn’t care—because you did. Hoseok knew that even if you’d roll your eyes at him when he’d joke about going to a strip club with the boys. But you weren’t insecure, and that wasn’t to say that women who were outwardly concerned were. You were just assured, and you made an effort to let Hoseok know that he needed you as much as you needed him—so anything he did wouldn’t just hurt you, but him too.

“It’s just that you’re basically the most cheerful dude I know and I don’t think I’ve seen you ever frown at anyone. Even the barista who fucked up our order four times.” Yoongi recalls. “Then there’s ____ who’s resting face literally is a big fuck you to anyone who breathes in her direction.”

Hoseok snorts, sipping his virgin cocktail. Even if he wasn’t the DD, he couldn’t do alcohol so the minty flavour of his drink was a night refresher for a tiring night (though he spent it just moping in his seat while the rest of his single friends partied away).

“I get mad too.” Hoseok shrugs.

“Yeah. Barely. Even then—you’re the most diplomatic person I know and you have a way of talking to people to get your point across without making them fear for their lives the next morning.” Yoongi deadpans.

“And sometimes diplomacy isn’t necessary.” Hoseok retorts.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “I’m not shitting on your girlfriend. You don’t need to play social justice warrior here.”

Hoseok sighs before leaning back, mirroring the man spread Yoongi was in while he ponders his next set of words carefully.

Yoongi was probably one of the most chill people Hoseok knows, and maybe that was why they got along so well. Yoongi was a take-no-shit kind of man who was truly sensitive under all the intimidating layers he showed the world. Hoseok was just nice, but he was no pushover. It was a good balance that came out when necessary.

So Hoseok didn’t want to rub Yoongi the wrong way and tell him to stop talking about petty differences between him and you but also wanted to satiate the curiousity that lingers in his eyes.

“I know,” Hoseok says. A girl nearly topples into their booth but Hoseok spots his younger friend Taehyung grabbing her by the waist and shooting the two men a sleazy wink before he stalks off with her in his arms. Yoongi rolls his eyes but Hoseok can’t even be bothered.

“I mean,” Yoongi drawls. “Based on what you told me I know that the two of you don’t even want the same things in the future. And again—not saying there’s anything wrong with that—but didn’t you want kids for the longest time?”

Hoseok nods his head, deciding against his words.

Yoongi clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth, nodding slowly as if he was processing Hoseok’s words.

“How did that … do you still want kids?”

“I want what _____ wants.”

Yoongi groans. “You sound like a total pushover.”

Hoseok levels a strict stare onto his friend, and even if Yoongi was older—there was something about a man who never got angry shooting him an intense stare that could make Yoongi zip his mouth.

“And kids aren’t endgame to a relationship. I love her, and yeah—I want kids. But she’s important to me and she’s here now. There isn’t a reason for me to condemn her or push her for a future that doesn’t exist yet. She’s the one carrying the baby for nine months and it’s her decision whether or not we have kids. Whether or not a kid comes along doesn’t matter to me because I’m with her because I love her and not because of a kid that isn’t real.”

Yoongi blinks. Then he huffs a breath out before letting out a low chuckle.

“Wow.”

“I know you don’t mean any harm but I don’t need to explain to anyone why _____ and I work so well together. But because you’re my best friend and you get oddly sentimental when you’re drunk I’ll spell it out for you and you better hope you’re sober enough to remember this tomorrow because I won’t repeat it again.” Hoseok says firmly.

Yoongi’s eyes widen at the serious tone Hoseok shifted to and observes the way Hoseok looks stern yet … soft, all at the same time.

“_____ is tough. In more ways than her exterior. She knows what she wants and what she’s ready for. And it was a goddamn miracle that she decided that what she wants and what she’s ready for was me. Yeah, she’s terrifying but she’s human—her heart is still pure and she’s a kind woman—person. Sure she’s systematic and needs an answer for everything but I’m her boyfriend and I’ll make sure that I can give her all the answer she needs to feel safe in this relationship. And yeah—we may not want the same things. She doesn’t want to get married but I do. But marriage isn’t endgame to me. She is. She wanted to move in together but I was iffy about it. So we live apart. That doesn’t change the nature of our love and she still loves me even if all I do is annoy her. So yeah. I’m willing to compromise and so is she. We’re different but we’re together.”

Hoseok is still calm as ever and there’s even a hint of a small smile on his face. The fact he’s smiling only testifies to the fact that you and Hoseok were so different from each other.

Yoongi is stunned to silence and sure he’s a quiet man but he usually had things to say, opinions to add. But Hoseok’s proclamation of your love only makes him sit in silence, letting the words dissipate in the atmosphere but remain in his conscience.

“Wow,” Yoongi repeats his words from earlier, but it’s all he can muster up.

Hoseok offers his friend a kind smile, sipping the rest of his drink while his friend can only stare at his nonchalant demeanour.

“And if you still don’t see it.” Hoseok grins. “There’s a reason why you don’t. I’m the only one that gets to fall in love with her like this.”

Yoongi whistles lowly before rolling his eyes. “No need to get possessive.”

“I’m a man in love. Sue me.” Hoseok shrugs with a slight smirk.

Yoongi gags at the cheesiness even if he finds himself internally grinning at his best friends blatant love for his girlfriend. He was sure it was the alcohol that was making him mushy—or perhaps Hoseok has always looked the way he did when he spoke about you. Eyes bright under dark lights and the heart-shaped smile of his becoming wider.

“If it counts for anything …” Yoongi trails off, offering a lazy smile to Hoseok. “I really hope she does marry you.”

Hoseok scoffs at Yoongi’s blatant optimism. Sure, he wanted that. He wanted nothing more than to see you in white, smiling only at him—or even with your usual stoic face—he doesn’t care. But he knew that the event itself would never change the fact that he wanted to be with you, now and forever. If fate wills, he’d marry you in a heartbeat. But Hoseok was content—and more importantly, he was in love.

“It doesn’t. But thanks.”

extra scene

“Hi, my love and my absolute sunshine.” Hoseok coos the next morning, and that’s the first thing he says when you open the door to your apartment; eyes already rolling to the back of your head.

“Did you do anything to piss me off?” You ask dryly.

Hoseok snickers, but pulls you in by your shoulders to give you a wet smooch to your lips that has you whining. You don’t push him away because you knew it was just the two of you and possibly one of your snooping neighbours.

“As you love to remind me during arguments—my existence is enough to do that, no?”

You nod your head, patting him gently on the cheek as you offer a half-hearted smile. “I’m glad you’re on the road to self-actualisation.”

Your boyfriend snorts, stepping into your apartment as he makes sure to leave his shoes on the shoe rack instead of idly laying on the floor because you were anal about things like that. And he missed you so he didn’t want you shooting him death stares just yet.

“You keep me on my feet.” Hoseok flirts, tone a little sleazy and you can’t help but sigh at your boyfriend's antics even though a hint of a smile marks your face.

When Hoseok settles into your couch, he immediately spots a wrapper that looked like it went into gift boxes—a pretty shade of green, which was his favourite colour. He immediately leans forward and eyes it with furrowed brows before looking up at you.

“My pretty baby got me a gift?” He wiggles said brows as you scoff at him, plopping into the seat next to him as you lean into his embrace.

“See for yourself.” You shrug, face still remaining blank.

Hoseok chuckles, already expecting your reaction even though everything about the placement of the wrapper to the strategic colour scheme of it screamed a gift for Hoseok. He knew you still got flustered when you did nice things for him, even if he’d argue that was on a daily basis because you were just a loud lover in a way that let your actions speak for your affection.

He wants to coddle you further, snuggle you so hard that you’d whine and attempt to shove him away until you decide that you secretly love it and hold him tight. He was so in love. But he placates the shift of your knee in a way he knew was due to your patience wearing thin.

So, he picks up the wrapper and realised that it was much lighter than he’d expected; and lacked the density of a usual present. It almost seemed like you were pulling a prank on him for no apparent reason. But Hoseok trusted you and knew that you weren’t the type to pull shit like that because you just had better things to do.

He unravels each crevice, eyes still searching for the gift that somehow never comes—all until he finally settles on a stick that he vaguely recognises from pharmacies that he never thought would be in his hands, staring up at him with two straight lines.

The silence is loud, but Hoseok is stunned. His mouth falls agape as he cradles the pregnancy test in his palm, eyes not bothering to look at your nervous expression. One that rarely comes from you just because you were an assured person in general and seldom needed validation from others.

But you loved Hoseok and you knew deep down that he’d always have an effect on you, words or actions—presence or not.

“Hobi?” You call softly, voice nervous as you fiddle with the hem of his shirt as he blankly stares at the test.

You’re terrified you made a mistake—or if he’s changed his mind because of your pessimism on the idea of having children. Sometimes you wonder how Hoseok could love you, all edges and harsh lines when you spoke. A woman who was either black and white or purely a grey area. Hoseok was the rainbow on dark days and brightened any environment.

You can’t read Hoseok’s face, and it scares you. Because you usually can since he was an open book. So when he finally turns to you, and you finally get a proper glimpse of his expression—

First, you see tears.

“I-Is this …?” He chokes.

Your eyes widen, immediately reaching out to cradle his cheeks as an involuntary reaction.

“Why are you crying?” You feel yourself tearing up and you try to suppress it. There was something about you being so connected to Hoseok and his feelings that made everything he felt translate to your own conscience.

“Y-You—I-I—you’re pregnant?” He whispers, eyes returning to the stick.

You nod your head slowly. “I am.”

Hoseok nibbles on his lips and you wait patiently for his next response. You can more or less guess that he’s happy yet confused, the conversation of potentially having kids never really showing any progress. But he’s been patient and so loving—and you thought you’d never shake but here you were.

The next thing you know, Hoseok is wrapping his arms around you so tightly that it hurts as you try to gasp for air. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck in a way that makes all your edges turn round, and your heart melt from the stone wall it was into a flurry of emotions that only he can bring out of you.

“We’re going to have a baby?” He asks softly, pulling away to clasp his palms around your cheeks, forcing you to look at him.

“We are.” You reply, equally as soft; eyes and tone. “You’re going to be a father, Hobi.”

And somehow, that breaks him. He can’t stop the tears nor can you. So you allow him to cry, and you allow yourself to feel too; holding each other close as you feel his hand reach out for your stomach. And you can’t deny the butterflies that erupt.

When he manages to regain his composure, wiping at his eyes; he looks at you so earnestly and gives you a wide smile that drew you in from the moment you met, and grown to love.

“You really want this?” He asks, eyes concerned but tone irrevocably gentle. You knew he wasn’t doubting your choices, but respecting them.

You nod your head.

“For the longest time … I thought kids weren’t for me. That I wouldn’t be a good mother because of how I am.” You tell him, and you see Hoseok’s eyebrows furrow and you know he’s thinking about denying that. But Hoseok has never been the type to interrupt you while talking. “And maybe I won’t be, maybe I will. But having you here with me just reassures me to know that our baby will have the greatest, most loving and most patient father out there.”

Hoseok’s eyes soften, knowing how big of a decision this must’ve been for you.

“I love you.” He whispers when he leans in to give you a slow kiss on your lips, one that wasn’t leading anywhere but was nice enough to feel the emotions pouring through.

You don’t say it back, but you look at him with gentle eyes that only he can recognise—and he knows. He knows your heart like you know his.

“You’ve compromised a lot of things for me, and I know I’m particular about many things. I have a plan ten years down the road of where I’d like to be in my life—and I never thought I’d be planning with a kid in mind.” You chuckle softly, and Hoseok pulls you closer so that you’re resting your head against his chest. “But you make me want to do things I’ve never done. And I really—I really want this baby. I want him or her to grow up thinking about how badass their parents were even though their mom is a total bitch and their dad is the mediator of the family.”

Hoseok snorts, brushing his hands through your hair.

“How long?” He asks.

You grin against his t-shirt, not looking up when you fiddle with the fabric of it.

“I’ve been feeling symptoms for a month now, and the test was from a week ago. I went to the doctor to be sure because I knew from the moment I suspected it that I wanted it to be true, for you, for me—for us.”

Hoseok tilts your chin up, offering you the smile you love so much and you feel so … happy.

“Next thing you know I’ll have you walking down the aisle.” Hoseok sighs, happy and content.

You roll your eyes, narrowing it at him as you push on his chest to sit up.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Jung.”

Hoseok wraps his hand around the back of your neck before pulling you close to meet your lips again.

“Let a man dream.” He grins against the kiss.

He can feel your giggle and the way you do the thing that you do when you’re secretly ruffled but adore him way too much to pull away.

“You know this means we have to move in together, right?” You murmur against his lips.

Hoseok snorts. “Duh. But you know you already have a home in my heart, right?”

You expected it, but it doesn’t make it any less cheesy when you groan and shove at his chest. Hoseok cackles, fully loving the way you scrunch your eyebrows in distaste at him.

“I hate you.” You scowl.

“No, you don’t.” Hoseok sings, resting his head against your shoulder while he looks up at you with innocent eyes.

You’re happy, and so is he.

And a few months down the road, Hoseok drops a ring into your palm, no words or expectations. You roll your eyes, as usual; but you slip it onto your ring-ringer anyways.

[chrisbitchtree]

Florida Man: Billy Hargrove Says I Do

For @harringrovetrashh, who wanted a little Harringrove wedding action! @bisexual-cupcake and @0bugzzz, I hope you enjoy as well!

Part one here

Part two here

***

Wedding planning with Billy was, to say the very least, interesting. Billy had never once tried to hide who he was from Steve and was always unapologetically himself. Wearing jorts and bright red cowboy boots to Robin’s daughters dance recital? Check. Sunbathing in a pink thong while sipping a margarita, in plain view of the neighbour’s children? Check. Requesting chicken fingers and a cold beer at a five-star restaurant? Steve had seen it happen more than once.

He’s not sure why anyone thought even for a second that their wedding would be any less Billy. It had all started with the suits. He’d thought classic black suits would be nice, but Billy had other ideas, insisting on an all-white tuxedo with tails and a top hat. At least Steve was able to talk him out of the cane and convince Billy that it would look better if he was in white, and Steve was in black. Steve had vowed to himself that he would never try to change his blond beauty, so he didn’t say a word apart from the cane.

Next was the music. It turns out that Billy was from a long line of line dancers and had to have music that they could dance to. He’d even gotten matching white cowboy boots for he and his mother for the occasion. The DJ ended up being handed a playlist that had everything from Ariana Grande and The Weeknd to Billy Ray Cyrus and Brooks and Dunn.

The one thing that he didn’t have an opinion on was the cake. He’d batted his eyes at Steve and licked his lips, stating “You’re sweet enough for me all on your own, Stevie. Better than any cake could ever be.” Steve kissed the grin right off his face.

With his massive sweet tooth, Steve was having the time of his life dragging Robin and Billy along for cake testing. Billy had no clue that Steve was ordering him a groom’s cake in the shape of an alligator. Steve could feel his mom’s blood boiling at a higher and higher temperature every time he gave her an update. It was glorious.

There was also the case of the bachelor party. It was going to be a joint affair with Robin and Billy’s friend Tommy planning it. Tommy was just about as crazy as Billy, if not crazier sometimes, so Steve was very interested in seeing what he and the level-headed Robin had managed to come up with together.

---

The bachelor party was a night to remember. Between polishing his cowboy boots to a cherry ride shine and picking out his shortest jorts to go with them and styling his mullet just right, Billy had managed to almost get arrested for taking a nap on a slide in a park while on his way to get milk and eggs at the store, and refusing to leave when he was woken up, stating that this was public property, and the kids could play somewhere else. Thankfully, Robin had answered the call and let him off.

Once Billy had gotten home and suited up, they’d headed to their first destination, a honkytonk bar. In a scene that echoed their first meeting, Steve had soon had a very drunk Billy grinding up against him. This time though, Steve hadn’t had to hide his attraction. The bathroom was blissfully empty when they slipped away from the group. Steve couldn’t contain his laughter when he noticed that the door of the stall was adorned with “For a good time, call Billy Hargrove – 555-1248.”

If there was one thing he could say, it was that Billy was definitely a good time. He was proving that, with Steve pressing him up against the wall, Billy’s legs wrapped around Steve’s waist as he thrust into his golden beauty.

Billy was moaning so loudly, Steve was shocked that no one had come in if only to see what the hell was going on. “Oh yeah, pretty boy, right there. Yeah, right there.” He captured Steve’s lips in a kiss, shoving his tongue into Steve’s mouth, while he tweaked Steve’s nipple. It made Steve go weak in the knees.

After they’d danced their hearts out at the honkytonk, there was the obligatory trip to the strip club. For the sake of the grooms having a good time, poor Robin and her wife, Heather, had endured a whole parade of men in rhinestone thongs and cowboy hats. Billy had the time of his life.

Things went sideways when Billy decided that he could out dance the strippers and tried to crawl onto the stage. Steve and Tommy tried to hold him back, but he was bound and determined, pulling himself up and ending up with a black eye courtesy of a stripper, but not before he got in a few good kicks, punches, and bites of his own. Steve was in awe of how Billy saw what he wanted and went for it every time, regardless of the consequences.

Having narrowly escaped having the cops called on him, Billy had managed to avoid arrest up until he drunkenly tried to shoot the moon out of the sky, shouting that he wanted to eat the ball of cheese. That arrest would be one for the history books.

---

Steve had thought their bachelor party had been a night to remember, but it had nothing on their wedding. He’d teared up watching Billy walk down the aisle towards him, on his mothers arm, in his white suit, mullet teased up within an inch of its life, Sugarland’s “Stuck Like Glue” playing over the speakers. He was really going to marry this lunatic. He couldn’t believe his luck.

The wedding dinner had been a feast of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and biscuits, much to Steve’s mothers’ horror, although thankfully he’d put his foot down and nixed ordering from KFC, no matter how much Billy tried to insist.

“How can you say that the Colonel isn’t good enough for us, Steve? It really is finger lickin’ good!” Steve had smiled fondly, but still shut him down in the end.

They’d had their first dance to Anne Murray’s “Can I Have This Dance for The Rest of My Life?” before getting down to “Cotton Eyed Joe”. Steve had even tried his hand at line dancing to “The Boot Scootin’ Boogie”, although he’d been no match for Billy’s grandmother.

Billy had loved the groom’s cake, the head of the alligator speared on a fork in one hand, and a bottle of champagne in the other, not bothering with a glass or a plate. Steve’s heart grew with love and affection for the other man with every moment that he got to call him his husband.

They’d ended the night with karaoke, Billy and Robin duetting on “Man, I Feel Like a Woman”, before, in true Billy fashion, the cops were called because Billy decided that the guests of the hotel that they were getting married at, whether they were invited to the wedding or not, should come down and party with them at 1am. The cops caught him on the fifth floor, loudly inviting a family of five to head downstairs for karaoke. Steve would be lying if he said that he didn’t have Billy’s mugshot from that night, featuring his white suit and hair in disarray, tucked away in the back of their wedding album.

The day, from start to finish, was pure Billy, and Steve wouldn’t have it any other way.

[captain-jensen]

The Most Powerful Thing

Chris Evans x Reader

Request: Are you taking requests? If so, can you do a Chris (or Sebastian) x reader one where they're at an event and his ex (also an actress) comes up to Chris multiple times. Even when the reader isn't there but she sees from afar. And his ex is constantly flirting and bringing up the good times they had. And the reader feels insecure cuz how can she compete?

Warnings: Some angst, fluff, swearing.

Authors Note: It’s been a while since I’ve written so I’m rusty. No specified race or gender for the reader! I hope you all enjoy it. It hasn’t been proofread though so just a fair warning. 

       Stepping out of the car and into the flashing of the cameras for the first time ever was an extremely overwhelming experience to say the least. Tonight was yours and Chris’ first time going public with your relationship. It’s only been 6 months and you had no idea how people were going to react to one of Hollywoods’ most eligible bachelors dating a normal person, someone who isn’t a model, or an actress, or a singer. To be honest you were really scared. Scared of the judgement from his fans, and scared of the judgement from the public in general. Everyone was going to be looking for any possible imperfection that could exist. Chris on the other hand, couldn’t be more thrilled. Even though he understood your anxieties about tonight, he could not be more exstatic to show the world that you were his and that he was yours. Chris had become so used to the attention that was paid to him that he knew nothing anyone said could change how he feels, but he still made sure to pay extra close attention to how you were feeling and was very reassuring. Even though you were scared shitless you knew all you had to do was try really hard to not pay any mind to the negativity. One thing you absolutely could not get your mind off of however, was the fact that one of Chris’ gorgeous exs’ would be there. 

   Walking the carpet was easy enough. All the press seemed thrilled that they now had a juicy new piece to write about Chris Evans’ “mysterious new woman”. Getting inside the venue was something out of a dream. A great big ballroom lit up with beautiful coloured lights and decorations. You couldn’t stop yourself from gushing to Chris and taking pictures of everything, wanting to commit the evening to memory as best as you could. Chris watched in amusement as he realized for what seems like the first time ever how wonderful all of this stuff could be. Watching you experience it all made him develop a whole new type of appreciation for his life. Then, out of nowhere a voice came up from behind you and Chris. “Awe how sweet! Taking pictures to show to your mommy and daddy when you get home?” You heard a high pitched voice feign adoration. Just as you turn around you see a pair of small arms wrap themselves around your boyfriends slender waist. Chris very reluctantly gives a half-assed hug to the woman. “Chris it’s so good to see you again, it’s been a few months now hasn’t it?” 

“Well it’s actually been more like a year or so” Chris corrects her. “This is Y/N, Y/N this is an old friend” Chris moves to wrap an arm around your waist to introduce you. 

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you” You sheepishly greet. She gives you nothing more than a daunting once-over before turning her attention back to Chris. You decide to shake it off though. 

“Chris you look absolutely delicious tonight! Is that the tie I bought for you for that one birthday? As I recall, we had some good times with that tie” She coos with a smirk and reminiscent eyes as she reaches a perfectly manicured hand out to his chest.

“No actually, this is just the tie that came with the rental suit” Chris replies emotionless. 

“Oh, well it looks really familiar” She says, clearly trying to get the last word. 

“Well you’re mistaken i guess. Anyways, we should find our seat” Before she can get another word in, Chris turns you and ushers you infront him with his hands on your waist. “Don’t pay any attention to her. She just really likes stirring the pot and getting attention”

Trying to seem chill and secure you simply respond with a sarcastic “Oh really? I thought she seemed really nice” which earns a chuckle from Chris. After finding your seats and settling in Chris offers to grab drinks for you both from the bar. Noticing that he’s been gone for a bit you turn to scan the crowd for him. When your eyes finally find him your heart stops beating. From a distance you see his ex girlfriend basically draping herself over him, giggling and obviously trying to fuck him with her eyes. Unable to bear the sight and the embarrasment you make your way to the bathroom. Just as Chris sees you practically running to the bathroom he pries himself out of the grip of the clout vulture to make his way to you. He makes it just as you’re about to open the door. Grabbing your wrist Chris gets your attention with a small “Hey!” When you turn around he can see the tears brimming your eyes and the poorly hidden pout on your lips. “Can we go talk outside?” he asks, earnestly concerned about you. Following him through the crowd you spot her eyes trailing you a glint of smugness that you just wanted to slap right off of her face. 

   When you finally maneuver your way across the building you find yourselves in a peaceful garden scene. “Do you want to talk about this” Chris asks, attempting to make eye contact with you. 

“What is there to talk about? Last time I checked you’re allowed to talk to your exes”

“Not when they talk to you like that though. Not when they purposefully try to make you feel like shit” he says. 

“What’s done is done Chris. Can we just go inside and try to have a good night?” You pry, wanting so badly to not dwell on this and have a good time.

“Not until you know that she’s just trying to be a bitch. It was barely even a 2 month fling. I don’t want you thinking badly about yourself just because of some attention seeker” 

“Chris, I said what’s done is done. There’s nothing I can do to make it go away now anyway” 

“You’re right. There’s nothing YOU can do. But I can make sure that you know what you mean to me. And that just so happens to be everything” Chris puts a finger under your chin, glancing in your eyes to make sure you see the full meaning of his words. “I love you so much Y/N. You know that” 

“Yeah I do. But it makes no difference knowing that I’ll never look like she does, or do what she does. I’m just some random person you met at a party” You admit. 

“First of all, what’s wrong with how we met? I love our story! Secondly, do you really think you can’t compare to some talentless wannabe actress? Y/N you’re a fucking genius! I can’t believe you’re being so dumb right now!” Chris exclaims. You get slightly annoyed at that last comment but decide to let him finish before making your rebuttal. “You are genuinely, the most beautiful person I���ve ever met. I mean your hilarious, you’re driven, you’re smart as fuck, and you’re the most genuine person in existence. You’ve honestly got the longest list of amazing qualities I’ve ever seen. Her? All she’s got is her legs and plastic surgery. I love you so fucking much I can’t handle it sometimes”

 You stand there shocked at Chris heartfelt admissions. Unable to speak, Chris senses your hesitancy and moves his hands to the sides of your head, placing a tender and loving kiss on your lips. Still unable to comprehend what he said you just reply with a simple “I love you too Chris, with everything I am”. He gives you the most glowing smile ever and you walk inside with a new found sense of confidence and security. You’ve never experienced this kind of love before, but you were sure it was the most powerful thing in existence. For the rest of the night the 2 of you were attached at the hip. Hearing praises from Chris’ friends about how happy you were and how much of a beautiful couple you made. Now when you scanned the room and found her eyes, there was nothing but an annoyed look in her eyes and a triumphant look in yours. 

[insert-inconspicuous-name-here]

Before I start my first re-watch of TUA 3 I want to organize myself: [spoilers]

Starting from what I recall my first feelings were: loved the fighting scene with the Sparrows. While watching it I kept remembering how a lot of people, me included, thought it was funny how the Brellies were kicking ass at the trailer while the Sparrows were being bullies on Twitter. LOL. Well, one of the funniest sentences was "they must be exhausted after kicking our asses" or something like that, i haven't memorized it yet. Beautiful.

Luther fell at first sight, and so did Sloane and I loved the Stockholm thing (not the actual Stockholm thing obv). Viktor threatening Marcus got me all hot and bothered. Fei had eyes everywhere, which is such a badass move to go with her entire wardrobe. Jayme is a snake and I fucking love snakes. Alphonso was such a hoot, "punch me in the face" - hilarious.

Then we entered the second episode and there's where things started to get a little darker. Majorly because of Allison. Trauma, PTSD, panic attacks? We're going deeper into the darkness here and I getting worried for my girl. Viktor coming out had me in tears. Five thinking he could finally relax and retire? Yeah, no. I feel so bad for him. Klaus figuring out his momma died. Five singing along the radio and having to stop because the cows turned to dust, godammit.

I wanna talk about Ben. "Why do they keep looking at me like that?" Like what, sweetie? Like they love you? Yeah. I'm looking at you like that too. It was like he kept getting pissed about their attitude because they just showed love for him, but it wasn't even for him "him", it was the other Ben, but they could totally still learn how to love this Ben too. Klaus was working himself up to it, and we see that from Ben's expression when Reggie says Klaus "didn't make it". This Ben was a major asshole, but when they didn't invite him to the bachelor party? I felt that. And personally, i didn't think he was that unlikable to be excluded from the party. Oh, and i totally taught he was going to die on the last episode.

Reginald fucking Hargreeves. This (bad connotation) snake. I didn't believe the "pilled" Daddy until Pogo showed up. That's also when I confirmed my paradoxal concerns, that Klaus fucked up big time teaching him how to cheat on his meds and trusting this "nice old innocent shit face" facade. It was obvious he was playing each and every one of them by emotion with deep manipulation and acting. He went very far for this and I'm not even sure what it is. But I wavered at the wedding, when he was all alone and shit. But then Five saw him making a deal and I came back from that emotional place.

I've spent too long on this (I had to stop and come back a few times). Completely lost my points. I need a complete solo post for Allison.