#best small gifts for wedding guests

[giftedfeeling]

Celebrating the union of love is an extraordinary event, a moment when two souls embark on a journey together. What elevates this celebration is the shared joy with family and friends. 

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

✨Dress Up, Part 2: The Ceremony✨

Well well well, looks like you guys won. You get a continuation of this fic that was meant to be a one shot lmao! I had some awesome people to bounce ideas off of and I couldn't do this without them. I hope you enjoy this chapter, it's time for the wedding! But you know I can't go a chapter without writing a little smut hehe~

*** - Scene change ~~~ - Flashback

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Lucifer x f!sinner reader

Summary: It's wedding day! And Lucifer is more than willing to try and convince you to the leave the reception early...

Warnings: 18+, smut, hand job, oral (m receiving)

"You know, if you don't quit your pacing back and forth, you're gonna wear out the carpet..."

***

It had only been a week since the proposal and the wedding was already here. But this is what you both wanted; a nice quiet wedding with only a handful of people with everyone else in Hell being none the wiser. You had to beg Lucifer for the week you got in between, he was practically ready to say "I do" once he put that engagement ring on your hand. It may have seemed like you two were moving a little bit fast considering most weddings take months, sometimes years to plan out! But when you're marrying the King of Hell, there really was next to nothing to worry about when it came to your special day.

The new hotel was the perfect venue, complete with a beautiful ballroom that could rival any chapel on Earth. The guest list was extremely exclusive consisting of only the occupants of the hotel, minus one Radio Demon, not that he would attend even if he was invited. It was Charlie who suggested that he protect the hotel today from any threat that might make itself known. On top of that, Charlie was more than happy to be the officiant, as being the Princess of Hell granted her that authority. Money was no object to the Morningstar family, so no expense was spared.

But regardless of any of that, Lucifer couldn't help but worry. You had one other request for him after he popped the question.

~~~

"I hate to ask more of you after asking for a week to prepare," you started, putting on the last of your clothes that you had discarded during your fun little teasing display, "but..." Lucifer approached you suddenly and held your hand in both of his.

"My love, you can ask of me anything you wish. There is no limit when it comes to you. You've already given me the best gift of becoming my future bride. Anything in my power is yours for the asking, you just name it!" He leaned down and planted a small kiss on the back of your hand. You couldn't help but blush, he never failed to charm you.

"This may sound a little odd, considering what just took place a few minutes ago," you breathed out a sigh, "but...what would you say to refraining from any...intense intimacy?" Lucifer cocked his eyebrow and smirked, seemingly intrigued. "B-but only for this week, I promise! Kissing and cuddling would still be on the table, of course. And no deliberate teasing from me, that wouldn't be fair. I was just thinking that...I want our first night as a married couple to be special. And I figured holding off for the time in between would only heighten the experience. If that's not something you want, I completely understand that-MMPH," you were silenced by Lucifer's soft lips on yours.

"Oh darling, was that all?," he flashed his signature toothy grin at you. "That's hardly a request! I think that's a wonderful idea...n-not that I don't want to ravish you at any given time! But you're right, I couldn't imagine a better honeymoon than getting the chance to feel you again after being denied for a few days, even though it may feel like an eternity. I'll be on my best behavior; you have my word!"

~~~

And Lucifer was on his best behavior, for the most part, at least. There were a few instances where his hands had traveled a little too low on your body and some kisses became deeper than they should have. But both of you managed to make it through the week! But today was the day, and his anxiety was at an all-time high. You decided to sleep in separates rooms the night before, wanting the next time you saw each other to be at the altar. That was the plan, at least.

It had been a while since Lucifer had slept alone. Suffice to say he couldn't sleep. He assured you that he would be alright sleeping alone for just one night, but that ended up being easier said than done. The empty bed he laid in brought back painful memories of his first night without Lilith, something that still haunted him to this day. There would be times where Lucifer would wake up in a cold sweat, only to glance over to see you peacefully asleep, and he could breathe again. Anytime you felt him tug you closer to him in the middle of the night, you knew what had woken him up. He never hid his feelings from you when he confided in you about his ex, and you didn't mind that he would wake you when his nightmares overwhelmed him. You loved him and he loved you. You would never leave. So when you heard your door creek open in the middle of the night to see your fiancé standing ion the door frame, you only smiled and gestured him to you.

~~~

"I-I'm sorry," he sobbed quietly, "I tried...I really did...I-I had a dream, a nightmare, you were there but you started to fade away in front of me. I reached out but it was no use. I woke up and…and you weren’t there, I panicked…I’m so s-sorry…”

"Hey, hey, shh, it's alright," you soothed and brought him into a tight embrace. You felt a tear that had fallen from his face make its way down your collarbone. "Don't cry, Luci, I'm not upset, not at all." You lifted his head up to wipe away his remaining tears. "Let's get some sleep. We have a big day tomorrow." You planted a kiss on his forehead, and from the dim red light that shown through your windows, you could see a small smile appear on his face. He laid down, his back facing you as you wrapped your arms around him and brought him flush to your chest. You could hear his breathing start to even about again.

"I don't deserve you," he murmured.

"You know I think the same thing every day," you respond.

He interlaced his fingers with yours at your words, squeezing you hand softly. "Promise me you'll never think that again. Please. You deserve everything and more."

"Alright," you conceded, kissing the back of his head, "as long as you promise me the same thing. You're my everything, and I'll spend the rest of my afterlife showing you that."

"Okay," he spoke weakly. You intertwined your legs with his, bringing yourself as close to him as possible. "I still intend to keep my other promise. I'll be gone before you wake up."

"You can stay as long as you need to," you whispered before drifting off to sleep once more.

~~~

True to his word, Lucifer had managed to sneak away before you woke. After adorning his typical attire, he found himself wandering the halls of the hotel, finally stopping when he reached the lobby. Thinking he was alone, Lucifer started talking to himself and paced back and forth like a madman.

"Was this a mistake? Are we moving too fast? No, no, no it's alright, it's fine! We're fine! Get a fucking GRIP, Lucifer! You're panicking for nothing! She loves you...right? Yes, yes of course she does! Why would she say yes to you?! Unless...NO! No, none of that! Relax! Need to relax..."

"You know, if you don't quit your pacing back and forth, you're gonna wear out the carpet," Husk remarked, attempting to get Lucifer's attention in his anxious state.

"WHAT THE-" Lucifer shrieked hearing the bartender's voice. After seeing Husk standing behind the bar, he breathed out a sigh of relief and clutched his hand to his rapidly beating heart. "Geez, warn a guy next time!" Husk huffed and returned to cleaning the whiskey glass he held in his hand. "How, uhh, how much of that did you hear?"

"Enough to know that you're a fucking mess right now," the cat demon replied, setting down his now clean glass. "Perhaps you need a bartender to talk to."

"Uhh, alright?" Lucifer made his way over to the bar and took a tentative seat on one of the stools.

"This is about your girl, ain't it?" Husk correctly guessed, "about the wedding?" Lucifer sighed and nodded. "Mhmm. You love this gal, don't you?"

"Yes, of course I do!" Lucifer answered almost defensively. "She's...my everything!"

Husk picked up another dirty glass to clean. "And has she given you any reason to doubt that she feels the same way?"

Lucifer huffed. "Well, I...no, no she hasn't. She's always been there for me. Listening to my ramblings, making me laugh, consoling me during the worst times, like last night...she's...she's just perfect!"

"So what's the holdup?" Husk asked after setting the other glass down.

"It's not as simple as you're making it out to be, Husker," Lucifer retorted, pushing his way back from the bar. "I loved Lilith with all of my heart and soul. And she said...that she loved me too. But then one day, she was just gone. Vanished. We fell together. We built a life here TOGETHER! And she just leaves? It's like the last 10,000 years together meant absolutely NOTHING!" Lucifer ran his hands through his hair, trying to keep his composure. "I-I can't lose her like like I lost Lilith. I just can't! I just want to be enough for her. I don't know what I would do if she...", he couldn't finish his sentence. He sat back down at the bar, resting his head in his arms. "The pain would break me..."

The sound of a glass sliding across the counter top caught Lucifer's attention. When he lifted his head, he noticed a full glass of scotch sitting next to him. "Calms the nerves," Husk spoke. Lucifer let out a deep breath and took a swig, choking slightly in the process not realizing how strong it was.

"Not much of a drinker," Lucifer admitted, setting the glass down.

"Sir, if I may..." Husk began.

"You can call me Lucifer," the angel smiled slightly.

Husk smirked. "Lucifer, all I can tell you that love is a vulnerable emotion. I understand that you're afraid. Afraid that history will repeat itself, that your love is not meant to be, and that you're going to end up alone all over again." Lucifer's face sunk, lowering his head against his arms once more. "But," Husk continued, "I know one thing for sure. That girl up there ain't Lilith."

Lucifer raised his head, now hanging onto every word from the bartender.

"If anybody thinks you aren't enough, that's their own fucking problem. And I can tell you that your girl ain't like that at all. She adores ya, can't get her to shut up about ya! Hell, I couldn't even tell you why she ended up down here in the first place! Another one of Heaven's fuck ups, for sure. But for your sake, I'm glad she did." Husk reached over and gulped down Lucifer's unfinished glass of scotch. "Be a shame if it went to waste."

Lucifer let out the smallest of laughs. "Thank you, Husker. And you're right, even in this God forsaken pit, she manages to make it just a little bit brighter. She saved me. And I'm going to devote every moment of my immortal life to her."

"Good to hear. Now..." Husk slammed his hand down on the counter, "get your shit together and go get ready! You got a wedding to attend."

*** You startled awake with the sound of knocking at your door. Your mind was still foggy, brief memories of last night flooded through your head. "Lucifer?" you sat up and looked around your room, but he was already gone, leaving you alone in an empty bed. He had kept his promise after all. There was another set of knocks at the door. "Coming!" you shouted as you ran to grab the robe you had left on the armchair. You opened the door to see Charlie bouncing giddily.

“Good moooorrrrnnniiiinnnngggggg~” she practically sang. “Did you sleep well? Are you ready for your big day?? Are we forgetting anything???” She rapid fired questions at you while you were still rubbing the crust from your eyes.

“Charlie, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re more excited than I am,” you joked, gesturing her to come in. “In order: Yes, I slept…well. Yes, I’m ready...mentally speaking. And no, we’re definitely not forgetting anything. You’re the most meticulous and thoughtful person I know, you definitely have everything planned to a tee! You practically leapt out of your skin when we asked if you would officiate.”

"Aww, thank you!" Charlie smiled as she skipped into your room. "And of course! I would never turn down such an opportunity! Being the princess of Hell does have its perks! You can never be too prepared, ya know? Especially for a day that's so wonderful and magical and full of love!" You saw tears welling up in her eyes out of pure joy.

"Hey now, I thought I was the one that was supposed to be crying today!" you joked.

"Right, right! Sorry!" She wiped the tears from her eyes and grabbed your hands excitedly. "Let's get your hair and make up done!"

Charlie dragged you over to the vanity and sat you down in the chair. You weren't one to wear much makeup typically, but Charlie insisted. And when Charlie asks for something, it's pretty much impossible to tell her no. So you obliged. But you made her promise that she would not go overboard, only the basics. Thankfully you showered the night before, so your hair just needed a good brush through. Charlie grabbed the hairbrush and began to comb through your hair, gently pulling out the knots out of the nasty case of bed head you were sporting. She truly was the kindest soul you've ever met. But that didn't stop you from feeling a little awkward.

"Charlie," you mumbled, "can I-oww...can I ask you something?"

"Yes, absolutely!" She grabbed the the already plugged-in curler and started working on adding some volume to your hair.

"Are...are you sure you're alright with this?" you asked timidly. "I mean...me and your father. I just don't want you to think I'm trying to, you know...replace your mother. I know I don't know much about her or your relationship but..."

Charlie put down the curler and kneeled down next to you, gently grabbing your hand. "You don't need to worry about that! I promise, it's alright with me. It's more than alright, actually! I haven't seen my dad this happy in a long, long time. He loves you so much! You wanna know how I know that? Because he tells me. Every single day. His eyes light up when anybody mentions your name! And I know you would never do anything to hurt him, or me. You're too kind and good hearted for that. I know it may feel like you're inserting yourself into the picture, but I'm more than happy to have you as part of our family! I know the love you have for my dad is genuine, and I wouldn't change a thing!"

A smile formed on your face. "Thank you, Charlie."

"Now," Charlie hopped up from the floor and grabbed the large make up bag sitting on the counter, “time to make magic happen! I have the perfect idea! Close your eyes and no peaking until I say so!”

*** You could feel your heart beating out of your chest as you stood in front of the closed ballroom doors. You knew just on the other side of that door was the love of your life, and he was waiting for you. Husk linked your arm with his, flashing you a warm smile. "You ready?"

You let out a few shaky breaths before you could answer him. "Y-yes."

"Don't worry, I gotcha," he comforted, "one step at a time, alright? Trust me, whatever you're feeling now, he was in much worse shape this morning. Nearly had to kick his ass to the altar myself. But I straightened him out for ya."

You could help but laugh. "Thanks, Husk. And thank you for walking me down. I know this isn't really a traditional wedding, but I appreciate everything you and everyone else have done for us."

"No thanks is necessary," Husk replied, "for what you do for Charlie and the hotel, it's the least I can do. You're a good one to be sure. And the King is damn lucky to have ya." You smiled and tightened your grip on Husk's arm as you heard the faint sound of music start to play on the other side. "It's time."

Without another word, the large wooden doors opened in front of you, and the music could be heard much more clearly now. The Bridal Chorus. Husk waited on your command as you took the first step. You scanned the room. You saw Vaggie and Cherri standing to one side, Angel off to the other, while Niffty skipped in front of you throwing a mix of flower petals and roaches. You noticed Charlie straight ahead of you in a lovely blue suit, a color you've never seen her wear before. You also took notice to the fact there didn't seem to be any organ in the room, despite the music that continued to play as you walked. You guessed it was some of Lucifer's magic. He really knew how to set the scene for the occasion.

Finally, your eyes found Lucifer. He looked at you as if you were the most angelic being he's ever laid his eyes on. You couldn't quite make out the details of his face yet, but you could tell that tears had begun rolling down his face. You saw his suit for the first time. A beautiful black velvet suit with embroidered gold detailing on the jacket. He looked like royalty.

Lucifer stared back at you, fighting every urge in his body to run to you and scoop you up in his arms. Your dress was immaculate. A stunning flowing sleeveless white dress adorned with fluffy scarlet feathers that were scattered across the skirt and completely covered the bodice. An homage to your future husband. You were only a few feet from him now. His smile could have lit the darkest of rooms. The tears continued to flow from his eyes, and you could feel tears threatening to leave yours as well.

"Deep breaths," Husk murmured to you before stepping to the side to join Angel. You inhaled deeply, holding your breath until you stood directly in front of Lucifer, only exhaling when he reached out and held your hands in his.

The music stopped. Your heartbeat was the only thing you could hear now.

Charlie cleared her throat. "Dearly beloved, we're gathered here today to join these two souls before us in holy matrimony. I understand that the couple have written their own vows." Charlie glanced your way and beamed. "Ladies first!" You smiled back at her then turned your full attention to Lucifer, staring lovingly and longingly into his eyes. You had spent the entire week practicing and memorizing your words for this very moment. You breathed in, and you breathed out.

"Lucifer, words cannot begin to describe how you make me feel. You have shown me so much compassion, understanding, care, and adoration that I had never experienced on Earth. My promise to you is that I will always stay by your side, I will never abandon you, and I will love you for the rest of my after life. You've changed my life for the better, and I will make sure that I do the same for you. You are my one true love, forever and always. I love you, my angel."

Lucifer pulled one of his hands away to wipe away the tears the refused to stop flowing. Angel pulled out a handkerchief and brought it over to him and began patting it across his cheeks. You looked at Charlie who had also started to cry. She quickly composed herself and turned towards her father. "D-Dad?" she squeaked out.

Once Lucifer was able to compose himself, he took hold of your hands once more. "My love, I have existed since before the dawn of creation. And in my thousands of years of existence, no one has brought me as much joy as you have. You came into my life suddenly, like a thief in the night, and stole my most precious possession. My heart. It is yours now, for eternity and even beyond. I promise that you will never know another day of sadness, of heartbreak, or of loneliness. My devotion to you is boundless and unfathomable and never ending. I am yours. I love you, my queen."

Razzle appeared in front of the two of you, displaying the silver wedding rings for each of you. You and Lucifer took your respective ring to to place on the other's hand.

"Lucifer," Charlie spoke through her sniffles "will you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife; will you love, honor, and cherish her, hold her up in the good times and the bad, for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do, forever," he answered, sliding the ring onto your finger.

Charlie turned and repeated the question to you.

"Yes, I do," you proclaimed, sliding the ring onto his hand in the same manner.

"By the power vested in me, as princess of Hell, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride."

You and Lucifer smiled at each other, no longer able to hold back any of your tears. Lucifer cupped your face and brought your lips to his for a tender kiss. You heard the cheers from the others in the room, and you definitely heard Angel whistle as your lips connected. When you pulled apart, something had caught your eye. Your rings were glowing. Magic in the form of golden dust surrounded each of them, swirling around the metal bands.

"What's this?" You asked Lucifer, who didn't seem alarmed at all.

He chuckled. "You're the new Queen of Hell, my darling. This magic is a symbol. It signifies that you are no longer bound by the rules that govern the sinners; you are bound to me. You have free reign to travel anywhere you wish, including the other rings of Hell. You're now one of the most powerful beings in the realm! But we can get into the finer details later; for now," Lucifer pecked your lips once again, "let's celebrate!"

After wiping away her excessive tears, Charlie cleared her throat. "Ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure to introduce to you for the first time ever, Mr. and Mrs. Morningstar!" The crowd cheered as you walked hand in hand with your husband back down the aisle.

"Who's ready to fucking PARTY?!" Cherri yelled behind you as you all made your way towards the bar in the lobby.

Drinks poured at the reception, everyone was cutting lose and having fun! You two had decided to partake in as many traditional reception activities as you could! Neither of you knew how you ended up with so much cake all over yourselves, but it was alright considering Lucifer easily snapped his fingers and both of you ended up back in pristine condition. You invited everyone to participate in the bouquet toss, but it was Vaggie who ended up with the flowers in the end. She absolutely failed to hide her blush from Charlie who was jumping for joy! But this next tradition was something Lucifer had really been looking forward to; the garter belt toss.

Ever the showman, Lucifer hiked up your dress to your thigh and rather than using his hands, he decided to use his teeth to pull the garment down. His head lingered near your thigh way longer than necessary, and you could Angel snickering as Lucifer dragged it down the length of your leg.

"Oh, you're gonna get it," you leaned down to whisper to him, hoping no one else could hear.

"Is that a threat or a promise?" Lucifer retorted with the garter belt still between his teeth.

To no one's surprise, Angel was the one to catch the belt once Lucifer finally tossed it.

The reception was going off without a hitch. Everyone was having the time of their lives getting plastered and gorging themselves on the enormous buffet Lucifer hand conjured up. You had changed out of your wedding dress into a new purple dress; the lavender one that you really liked that you had tried on a week ago before you got yanked out of the dressing room by a certain horny angel. Thankfully, you two were able to go back to the store the next day to properly purchase it. You and Lucifer were given your own large round table so you wouldn't have to sit at the crowded bar. Luckily for Lucifer, this gave him easy access to you. As the reception went on and with no one being the wiser, Lucifer's hand found your thigh once more, gliding it up ever so slowly before you shot him a knowing glance.

"What do you say we leave early," he proposed innocently, "I have a wonderful surprise for my new bride once we're on our honeymoon."

You playfully grabbed Lucifer's wandering hand and pushed it down towards your knee. "Luci, it's only been an hour! You can't tell me you can't wait just a little longer, can you?"

Lucifer stuck out his lip and pouted sweetly. "Oh, but my love, have you forgotten? It's been an entire week! And you know how well behaved I've been, I am nothing if not a man of my word." You felt his hand begin its ascent on your leg once more. You didn't stop him. "But I can only be a gentleman for so long..."

You didn't want to admit it, but you were in the same boat as well. That week apart had been almost tortuous. But you were more than willing to wait until the party was over. Your husband, however, appeared to have a different idea.

Alright then.

Before his hand could climb any higher, your hand shot down immediately to his crotch. Lucifer bit back a yelp as he felt you palm him through his pants. His hand stopped all motion, but instead started digging into your thigh, ultimately trying to remain calm. But that task seemed nearly impossible with the way your hand continued its ministrations, his pants feeling tighter and tighter with every passing second.

"D-Darling, please..." he begged through his clenched teeth.

You grinned wickedly. "You want me to take care of you, Luci?" He nodded his head vigorously. "We're not leaving early. But, I'll help you out as a good wife should, yeah?" Lucifer panted, his nails now dangerously close to breaking through your skin. "Head to the restroom just down the hall. Give me a minute and I'll follow you. I'll knock three times to let you know it's me. I have a plan. No touching yourself, understand?"

"Y-Yes," he breathed. When he was sure no one was looking, he stood up from his chair as fast as possible before making his way down the hall. Once you saw him disappear around the corner, it was time to give yourself some cover.

"Angel!" you yelled across the room, waving your hands to flag him down. The spider demon turned his head and smiled. He said something inaudible to Cherri before making his way over to you.

"Hey there, pretty lady!" Angel bent over and folded is first pair arms on the table, "Congratulations on the new gig! Being Queen of Hell sure is a status boost!"

"Yeah, I still need time to process that," you admitted. "So Angel, can you umm, do me a favor?"

Angel stood up and slicked his hair back. "Oh, anything for the new member of the royal family! What can I do ya for, doll face?"

You let out a shaky breath. "Can you...how do I say this...cause some sort of distraction?" Angel raised an eyebrow. "I just need to take care of something real quick."

"Uh huh," Angel chuckled, "you need to take care of something? Or someone?~" You pursed your lips, a light blush dashed across your cheeks. You really should have known better than to try and tiptoe around your means of leaving with Angel. "That's what I thought. Don't think I didn't notice the King almost sprint out of here just now. Man is absolutely smitten with ya! But you'll get no judgement from me, baby, I know how it is! Consider this your wedding gift, I typically end up being the most distracting person wherever I go! How much time do you need?"

"Five minutes?"

"Oh honey, I think you're giving him way too much credit, especially considering the state he's in." Angel laughed, "I can give you three."

"Four."

"Deal," Angel stuck a hand out for you to shake. He was ready to turn away when he flashed you a wink. "Get ready!"

As soon as you heard Angel shout loud enough to grab everyone's attention, you got up from the table and followed Lucifer's path down the hall. Once you stood in front of the restroom door, you knocked on it three times just as you said you would. It took less than a second for the door to swing open and for Lucifer to pull you inside. He locked the door behind you and crashed his lips into yours. You pushed him up against the door as you slipped your tongue further into his mouth. He was devouring you as his hands gripped your hips.

"We don't have a lot of time," you said breathlessly, "we have four minutes."

"How did-HHNG," Lucifer wanted to question until you began to palm at his now very apparent erection through his pants again.

"Let's just say I owe Angel big time." You started to fumble with Lucifer's belt, pulling it off of his pants with a quick flick of your arm. Your hands worked at the button and zipper of his pants next, going almost too fast for you to properly hold anything. You gripped the hem of his pants and boxers and were about to pull them down together until Lucifer grabbed your wrists.

"Wait, wait! What about you?" he asked. Even in such a lust filled state, he still only ever thought about you. God, you really hit the jackpot.

You gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "I appreciate it hon, but we really don't have the time to argue about this. Four minutes, remember? Probably closer to three now." You pulled your hands away from Lucifer's grip and went back to the hem of his pants, pulling down his boxers in the process, finally freeing his hardened cock that was already leaking precum. You placed your hands on either side of his hips, his back flush against the door. "You better tell me what you want quickly, Luci."

Lucifer gulped hard, staring at you through half-lidded eyes. "T-touch me...please...n-need you..."

Without another word, you moved to stand at Lucifer's side as your one hand gripped his shaft while the other cupped his mouth to keep him from making too much noise. "Shh, gotta be quiet, my love. You don't want the others to hear how your queen makes you feel." He nodded his head silently as you began to stroke him. You watched as precum dripped onto the floor below; it was obvious how pent up he was. You quickly picked you the pace as your hand moved up and down his cock, thumbing over the tip only for Lucifer to mewl into your hand and buck up into your touch. His breathing became more and more staggered by the second, he wasn't going to last much longer at this rate. But you knew you were running out of time and your hands alone were not going to be enough to finish the job. "Not a sound," you commanded as you released your hand from his mouth, dropping to your knees in an instant. Before Lucifer could protest, your mouth had already full engulfed his length. He threw his own hand over his mouth to muffle his screams as best he could. Your head bobbed up and down rapidly on his cock while stopping every few seconds to lap circles around his tip. He was close.

"F-Fuu-uuccckk," he whimpered, "I-I'm g-mmph...gonna c-cum...shitshitSHIT!" And almost on cue, you felt him empty himself inside you. Strings of hot cum hit that back of your throat while you continued to suck him off, helping him ride out his orgasm. Once he was finished, you let his now softened dick fall from your lips, not letting a single drop leave your mouth. You gracefully stood up and grabbed his belt that you had flung earlier and handed it to him.

"Feel better?" you whispered in his ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

He turned his head to meet your lips once more. He always loved the taste of him on your mouth. "Immeasurably," Lucifer moaned into you.

"And only with a few seconds to spare!" Lucifer buckled his pants once more while you walked over to the sink and began soaking one of the wash cloths in cool water. You dabbed the towel on his forehead, attempting to cool him down. "Can't have you looking so disheveled, my king."

"I promise to make this up to you," Lucifer swore. "You should never be left unsatisfied."

You smiled and kissed him on the forehead sweetly. "My satisfaction is knowing I'm the only one who can pull those beautiful sounds out of you." Lucifer could help but look away from you in embarrassment. "Now, if you promise to behave for the rest of the party, let's just say I have a...proposition for you later tonight. I know exactly how you can pay me back." You unlocked the bathroom door and held it open for him. "Let's not keep our guests waiting!"

~~~

IT'S SO FUCKING LATE RIGHT NOW HOLY GOD I WAS ON A ROLL I DIDN'T WANT TO STOP! I hope you guys are ready for the honeymoon ;)

Taglist: @ask-theradio-demon @kermitdafroggy @thonethatflies620 @luc1fersducky @a-okay-rj @bat-boness @myhornybrainonlyknowsthis @misfitgirlwrites @animationmovieshipps @orbitinglumps @ramenkitten @blaackbiird @bigfatbimbo @lucisaspen @bvnnyangel @seulace9 @fluffypinkpillows @starlightdreaming @k-n0-x @rosen-und-mondlicht @raindropsfromheaven @slutforlucifermorningstar (I'm sorry if I missed anyone!)

[samalong1]

Songbird Hannibal x Operareader

Yandere hannibal tw obsessive reltionship, controlling behavior,manupliation, and briefly mentioned baby trapping

You were his song bird, he'd always say it, it was his Nickname for you. He wasn't ashamed of it either infront of a crowd of all his dinner guests he'd call out for his song bird to come make a host

Such a nice reminder of how you met and fell in love, you even had the ticket Hannibal bought to your opera show framed so it was nice he was also sentimental

But it was much diffrent from hannibal's view

He saw your performances many times before you even met him. Every time he was smitten

Your voice it came from deep down as if it was your soul singing

It indirectly brought him to his childhood your look,voice,and even smell reminded him of his mother's room, the smell of all her perfume and the admiration he had for all the beauty and small details, it was hard to fully put into words but he just knew he had to have you

Although he wanted to simply sweep you up have you in his arms, he had to be patient if he wanted you to sing

A song bird could be trapped in the prettiest golden cage and fed the best quality food but never sing, they'd fall into depression being aware of their lack of freedom.

So he moved slowely charming you one night after a performance when he spotted you in the lobby. He'd take you ok the finest dates and gift you the finest golden jewelry he could find

Of course you were charmed, a respectable well groomed well educated man wanting to give you the world would charm anyone he was like a winning lotto ticket sticking out from any deadbeat,messy,rude, or childish boyfreinds you've had before

If the song bird is unaware of their captivity, the golden bars too far away for them to feel trapped, too busy with toys to want to fly away and it'd be content singing

This is what he did you thought you could go anywhere but he made very sure you'd never be too far away, not that you would wonder off he would do so much with you that you were too tired to go out without him.

He loved hearing your voice In the theatre and seeing how you moved everyone. But his greed was far more powerful, he wanted your voice to only move him to speak directly to him your voice only sung for him. At every performance he'd imagine your voice hitting a note so high everyone but him would shatter like glass leaving him the only one worthy to enjoy your melodies

So he played the long game soon wrapping your finger in a wedding ring, to lure you into the grand cage

After that it was easy to get you to abdonen your career with phrases like, "why work for others when I am more than able to provide", "you could write your own songs with the free time",and the one that hit the hardest "if we had children won't you want to be around them, of course I support working mothers but all the time you spend practicing and when you perform in other states even countries woudnt you rather be with them"

Of course there were a ton mire tactics he used to persuade you, he was very manipulative part of that is what made life to him a game if chess always needing to plot your next move or words

Soon it worked, his song bird was in the cage clueless about the trap and he locked the door

It took years but finally he had his pretty song bird in a golden cage where only he could be blessed with the singing, where only he held the key to free the bird but it remained unaware happily singing

You were happy either way wrapped around him

It was funny you worried that he didn't love you at times or that you were a bother due to how stoic he was and how hard it was to read him

Of course he'd assure you how loved you are but it was funny, you were worried that you were annoying him when he did so much for you to "annoy" him

Everyone saw through the bars even you, you were lucky you married a rich respectful docter who loved you

You'd still sing for the public but not as a profession whenever there was a open mic or any exuse he'd happily watch his songbird sing and the awe in others

He saw it as a blessing to the strangers a rare moment where he'd bring his golden cage to the public to allow others to hear the singing

He'd sketch you alot, you'd be drawn as many Greek Goddesses frequently as aphrodite, or on a stage singing to a audience that was empty exept for one man, him

He never shown you the sketches but he wasn't ashamed its just what he did to keep his mind busy you woudnt show him your middle school doodles

If you ever saw them he'd just admit that he drew them and move on

Though he'd ask you to model for paintings drawing you in so many poses some erotic but some classical, as if you were a medival monarch

Though he usually painted from real life he had one he painted without your modeling, it was you wearing flowing silk while in a golden swing in a golden cage seeming unaware

Oh how he favored it, it was hung in his office for any patients or freinds to see. You felt unease when seeing it but could never put a finger on it

Because a happy songbird was unaware of its cage,it didn't see itself as trapped so it woudnt recognize any depiction of themselves as trapped

[ikkyfics]

First Dance

James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: "I also thought it’d be a good moment to practice.” “Practice for what?” “The wedding dance,” he replied, as if it were obvious, his eyes locking onto yours with such intensity that your heart tightened. “I want it to be perfect, because it’s the moment I’ll remember forever. Just like this one.”

Warnings: none

Part 6 of Marry Me

Masterlist

The night was calm, wrapped in a serene air and soft light that streamed through the window, bathing the living room in the golden glow of the moonlight. The atmosphere felt familiar, with the marks of a busy day still evident: scribbled lists, flower samples scattered across the table, and the lingering scent of freshly brewed tea. You were in the final stages of wedding preparations, adjusting small details and deciding on things that didn’t seem important until they were.

James, with his eternally messy hair – as if it had just come from a friendly battle with the wind – and those vibrant blue eyes behind his glasses, was sitting on the couch, scribbling ideas on a piece of parchment. He wore a gray sweater that looked even softer under the light, and you couldn’t help but smile whenever you saw him like that, so focused and carefree at the same time.

It was then that soft music began to play on the small enchanted radio Sirius had gifted you. The melody was old, the kind that speaks of love in every note, full of nostalgia and tenderness. James lifted his gaze, and a slow, almost mischievous smile formed on his lips.

“This... this one’s perfect,” he said, dropping the parchment and standing up with the casual elegance that always seemed so natural to him. Before you could ask what he was planning, he extended his hand to you, his eyes sparkling with a silent invitation.

“James,” you began, laughing, “the room’s a mess.”

“Exactly,” he replied, with that slightly teasing tone you knew so well. “This way, we’ve already got a rehearsal for dancing in the middle of chaos.”

Without waiting, he took your hand and pulled you to the center of the room. His arms wrapped around you with a ease that made everything feel so right, as if the world outside could wait while you had that moment just for yourselves.

James wasn’t the best dancer in the world, but the way he moved with you made it seem like he was. His steps were simple, but every movement carried a smoothness that melted away any hesitation. His fingers traced a small circle on your waist as he kept the other hand securely in yours, his thumb reassuringly stroking your skin.

“Knew I’d make you dance one of these days,” he murmured, his face so close that you could feel the vibration of his words against your skin.

You laughed, resting your head on his chest, listening to the steady sound of his heartbeat, matching the rhythm of yours. “And you thought I wouldn’t notice your escape strategy from the preparations?”

“Maybe,” he admitted, tilting his head to look at you with that smug smile you loved so much. “But I also thought it’d be a good moment to practice.”

“Practice for what?”

“The wedding dance,” he replied, as if it were obvious, his eyes locking onto yours with such intensity that your heart tightened. “I want it to be perfect, because it’s the moment I’ll remember forever. Just like this one.”

His words were simple, but carried so much feeling that you could feel the warmth rising to your cheeks. He, of course, noticed and chuckled, lowering his head to nuzzle his nose against yours.

“Besides,” he continued, with the mischievous tone only he could pull off, “I think I can add a few pirouettes to impress the guests.”

You lightly shoved him, laughing, but he only pulled you closer, his face completely lit by the smile that seemed to belong only to you.

The music played on, and the dance, despite being a little awkward at times, was filled with laughter and exchanged glances that didn’t need words. James slowed his steps until you were practically still, gently swaying to the rhythm of the music.

“You know,” he began, his voice lowering to a near whisper, “I’ve never been great at planning big things, but with you... everything just makes sense.”

James rested his forehead against yours, breathing deeply as if capturing that moment in every detail. The soft melody filling the room seemed like the perfect backdrop to the world you had built together. There was no rush. Just the gentle sway of the two of you, following the rhythm of the music, and the comforting warmth of his arms around you.

“I promise this will be the first of many dances,” he murmured, his voice so low it seemed to blend with the beat of your heart. The touch of his lips against yours was brief, but full of a silent promise. He smiled slightly, a smile that was entirely his, somewhere between smug and absurdly affectionate. “In our living room, in the backyard, wherever we are.”

You laughed, your laugh soft and almost shy. “Even if it’s in the middle of the street?”

“Especially in the middle of the street,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with warm humor. “You can bet I’ll pull you into a dance, even if traffic stops.”

“You’re crazy,” you responded, shaking your head, but with the smile he always managed to bring out in you.

James tilted his head to the side, his expression softer now. “Maybe. But a crazy man completely in love with you.”

He held your hand between his, his thumbs lazily tracing circles on your skin. It was a simple gesture, but it carried the intimacy of years of shared understanding. James always had this way of making you feel like you were the only person in the world who mattered.

"Do you remember our first dance?" he asked, a glimmer of nostalgia crossing the blue of his eyes.

You smiled, warmth rising to your cheeks. "How could I forget? You stepped on my foot like five times."

James let out a laugh that made his chest vibrate, as if the sound was an extension of the love overflowing from him. "Five? You're being kind. I'm sure it was at least ten."

"But it was adorable," you admitted, your tone sincere. "I’d never seen anyone so determined to make me smile."

"Well," he replied, pulling you a little closer, "I think I did pretty well."

You nodded, resting your head on his shoulder. "Very well."

The music changed, but you stayed there, swaying gently. James’ eyes took on a more dreamy expression, as if he were putting together an invisible puzzle.

"I was thinking," he began, his voice low, almost as if he were sharing a secret, "when we have our own house... you know, with a big backyard, trees, and everything... do you think we could put one of those swing hammocks up? I’ve always imagined us swinging while we watch the kids play."

You looked up at him, surprised by the softness in his tone. "The kids?"

"Of course," he said, his smile widening. "Two, maybe three... maybe four, if we can handle the chaos."

"Four?!" you exclaimed, but there was more humor than shock in your voice.

James laughed, kissing your forehead tenderly. "Okay, maybe three. Or two. But they’ll definitely inherit your smile and my charm."

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. "You’re already planning the Quidditch team, aren’t you?"

"I admit it," he confessed, laughing. "But I was also thinking... do you think we’ll still dance like this when we’re old?"

The question was simple, but loaded with meaning. You felt your eyes fill with tears, but you smiled, wrapping your arms around him even more.

"James Potter," you said, your voice shaky but firm, "if you ask me to dance, no matter how many years have passed, I will always say yes."

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he lowered his head and captured your lips in a slow, tender kiss, but one filled with everything he felt for you. It was as if the world around you had stopped, and all that existed was the soft touch of his lips on yours and the warmth radiating from the love you shared.

When he pulled away, the smile was back, but his eyes were shining with emotion. "You’re everything to me," he whispered, as if it were a long-held secret.

"And you are to me," you replied, feeling that the words were insufficient, but true.

James pulled back slightly, as if he had remembered something important. He slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. His eyes sparkled with curiosity, and he laughed when he saw your expression.

"It’s not what you think," he assured, opening the box to reveal a small star-shaped pendant, with a faint magical shimmer that made it seem to pulse with its own light.

"What’s this for?" you asked, touching the pendant gently.

"For you to wear on our wedding day," he said, his smile making your heart melt. "That way, you’ll always have a piece of our starry sky, no matter where you are."

You couldn’t respond. You simply hugged him again, feeling that no words could ever express how much he meant to you.

And in that moonlit room, with the soft music still playing in the background, you both knew that this was just the beginning of a life full of dances, smiles, and eternal love.

taglist: @hisparentsgallerryy

[inky-duchess]

Etiquette of the Edwardian Era and La Belle Époque: Tea

This is a new set of posts focusing on the period of time stretching from the late 19th century to the early 20th Century right up to the start of WWI. I'll be going through different aspects of life. This series can be linked to my Great House series as well as my Season post and Debutant post.

Today will be focusing on the rules of tea with this time period.

Tea was a staple in society, not only as a comforting beverage but as a social gathering beset by strict rules. Etiquette at tea is not only important for guests but is a sign of respect to one's host.

High Tea vs Afternoon Tea

You're reading both terms and you're thinking high tea is the formal version and afternoon is informal. In fact, no. It is the opposite. High tea was actually served far later, about 6pm/7pm and focused on more savoury, substantial dishes. High tea was more of a lower class tradition, designed to fill the stomachs of hungry workers. The word "high" is derived from the tall tables used. Afternoon tea is served at 4pm, designed to fill the gap between lunch and dinner. Afternoon tea is served at low tables with all the guests seated and involve a lighter meal, more nibbles than anything.

Hosting and Attending Tea

Tea is an event that happens every day, it's not an excuse for a snack, it's a ritual. One can have tea served in one's own home or at the home of a friend. One must be invited to tea, one can't just show up and expect to get fed. Tea was typically served in libraries or drawing rooms and done times outside in the gardens if weather permits. One had to dress for tea usually in comfortable but appropriate clothing. Men would wear suits, women would wear tea gowns or a simple gown - keeping their hats upon their head, if they are visiting. Tea was not poured by the footman but by the host or if it is a large party, by one assigned guest. The hostess or designated tea pourer would serve themselves last.

The Tea Set

Tea sets are highly coveted and much remarked upon at tea. One would usually inherit a service (that's what the collection was called) or be gifted it at one's wedding. Services would all match and most households had different kinds, the best usually reserved for important guests.

Teapot: the tea pot held the hot water and tea leaves was was usually made of china and decorated.

Cups: the cups were generally low, shallow.

Saucer: a small plate for the cup to rest on

Tea cannister: where dried tea leaves would rest until needed.

Sugar bowl: was a small container made of china with a cover to protect the sugar from moisture.

Milk jug: a container for the milk

Slop basin: was a porcelain dish used for disposing tea leaves left behind with the dregs of tea.

Tea spoon: small spoon used to stir tea

Side Plate: small serving plate used for food.

As you might have noticed, other than a tea spoon, cutlery is not listed. There would be a spoon for jam and a knife for a scone, most food was designed to be eaten with one's hands.

There is also one instrument not listed here and it's the most recognisable thing at afternoon tea.

The Tiered Tray

The tiered tray is a set of trays stacked upon one another holding on each one, a different course. Sandwiches and savouries were served on the bottom (Favourites include smoked salmon, cucumber, cress, egg salad sandwiches), scones on the second and sweeter delights served on the top (sponge cake, macaroons, pastries etc). One would begin ay the bottom and work one's way upward.

Making the Perfect Cup of Tea in the Edwardian Era/Belle Epoque/Gilded Age

Disclaimers: Let's make one thing clear. Tea is not prepared one way for all. Tea is culturally important across the world and every culture has their own rules about how tea is consumed and served. There's no one right way.

I will be discussing the English way of brewing tea in this post.

As mentioned before, tea is held in a cannister before use. Tea leaves were added to the hot water and lightly stirred.

Controversially for most people, milk was commonly added first.

One would then set a strainer in one's cup, tilting the pot. The strainer will catch the leaves and leave your cup almost tea-pulp free.

With the tea added, one could add in sugar. The trick is not to make a show about it or be too loud. One simply should gently turn your spoon from the 6 o'clock position to the 12 o'clock position. Also, the spoon rests on the saucer when not in use and doesn't stay in your cup.

When drinking your tea, put your pinky down. That's an American myth. Simply lift your cup to you, lifting the cup to your mouth by the handle. Saucers are not lifted unless your cup is far away. Don't slurp it, there's plenty more where that came from.

Etiquette at Tea

Afternoon tea is for light conversation, do avoid heavy topics.

Listen attentively when being spoken to.

Don't talk with your mouth full or stuff your mouth. Typically everything should be polished off with 2-3 bites.

Gloves should be removed at tea because one is eating with their fingers.

If one is leaving the table to go to the bathroom or a breath of air, simply turn to your neighbours and excuse yourself. No explanation needed.

Napkins should be removed from the table and set across one's lap when one is sitting down. When finished with tea, set it beside your plate before you rise.

Also you daub, not smear.

Don't cut your scone but break it.

Don't lick your fingers.

Don't bang the spoon on the side of the cup.

Also there's no dunking biscuits into your tea. It's just not done at afternoon tea.

Never thank the staff for fetching anything - or at very least, don't be overhead doing so.

Always say your goodbyes to the hostess and compliment the tea, even if you had a rubbish time.

Also most importantly, never criticise somebody else's manners. That's the height of rudeness.

[ladylaviniya]

Wails of Wedded Bliss

Chapter 6 || Masterlist || Chapter 8

Chapter Summary: Upon meeting the Baroness you are enamoured by her devotion.

Pairing: Sherlock Homes x wife!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, (No Smut), typical historical misogyny and sexism, mentions and discussion on miscarriages. Implied domestic abuse and infidelity.

Word Count: 9k

Author Notes: This is an important but rather sad chapter. I beseech you all to read the warnings. The details of this chapter are important to the plot of the missing Baron Thaddeus Pennicott.

Inspiring Song: "Flightless Bird American Mouth" by Vitamin String Quartet

8:30am Wednesday 7th May 1890, Grovelands House, The Bourne, London, England. 

Sherlock tucked your arm into his side as you three entered the Groveland house foyer. The floor was made of fine marble tile and with ever step a light echo raced down the halls.

The inspector called upon a nearby dusting maid to fetch the head of the house. Who returned was a thin and tall man in a butler’s uniform with a sliver pocket watch hanging from his chest. His hair was the colour of autumn leaves and his face littered in freckles.

He bowed, “I am mister Edward Redmayne, head butler of the Groveland estate, how may I assist you?”

The inspector shook his hand and stated quickly, “We spoke on the telephone yesterday? A telegraph was sent.”

The butler smiled with a relieving gasp, “Detective Holmes?”

Lestrade sheepishly looked over his shoulder to you and your husband. He nodded. His expression wore a emotion of embarrassment mixed with annoyance. Perhaps he was jealous of your husband’s successful published case stories. You wished you could have told the constable not to fret as Sherlock was nothing short of a arrogant mule...yet again- the mark on his face...he probably already knew that.

8:42am Wednesday 7th May 1890, Grovelands House, The Bourne, London, England. 

Upon meeting the lady of the house, you stood frigid by your husband. You felt somewhat self conscious by her grey eyes that lingered over your dress. Perhaps you should’ve worn your Sunday best before meeting a woman of such a high status.

The baroness was unmistakably pregnant. Her belly was bold and rounded beneath her maternity gown. She had been sitting calmly on a resting chaise, knitting a small bonnet for her future child. Her hands were covered in fine burgundy velvet gloves to match her modest dress.

Her face was framed by a light brown curls, that appeared almost white in some places, twisted into a bum at the base of her neck. Her pale face was blotchy with pink flecks and slight acne.

“Lady Pennicott, I am Inspector Braydon Lestrade of Scotland Yard,” the British officer proclaimed as he bowed dramatically forward. You withheld a girlish giggle by how low the man had bent his head and presented himself foolishly, and from the corner of your eye you manage to catch the whisp of Sherlock’s smirk.

The inspector waved his arm behind him and moved aside, “-and with me is Detective Sherlock Holmes and his wife, Mrs Holmes.”

You produced the baroness a respectable curtsy, your eyes glued down to the beautifully patterned carpet. You wondered how the servants could keep it so clean and freshly unstained by dirty guests. It must have been new.

The baroness shuffled her knitting needles and ball of woollen yarn into a Whicker basket and disposed of it beside her.

A slow stretching smile graced her thin lips as she spoke to you, “Oh, are you the little dear who solved that factory match girl incident?”

You weren’t sure how to answer her question. You weren’t entirely sure what the baroness was referencing until Sherlock stepped closer with your arm still cradled in his.

“No dear Baroness,” Sherlock pat your hand gently, “That would have been my sister Enola Holmes, she has her own detective office at present moment. My wife is here on my invitation. I wished to gift her a sight of the grand park and estate while I was here upon duty.”

The Baroness cocked her head, from her ears hung pearls that swung and hung like rain drops.

“Come forth dear,” she lifted her hand and beckoned you, “I would like to have better view of you.”

You wondered if she could smell the sweat beginning to drop down the back of your neck. You bit your tongue and tried to refrain from trembling. You were nervous. Her eyes were cold but her smile warm, two conflating details that you couldn’t understand. The last thing you needed now on top of a terrible start to your marriage was to be scrutinized by a haughty pregnant baroness.

She flickered your fingers for you to bend down to her. As you leant down, you swore you could smell copper, a metalic scent. A vein on your scalp pulsed. She scanned your face of its details. You dared to wonder what she was searching for. And then it clicked...the smell...

‘Dear god, you prayed, please don’t let her smell my blood, please let this not be my blood...’

You should have sprits on some perfume before leaving baker street.

She glanced behind you and questioned angelically, “How does it feel having such a clever husband?”

Your lips opened and closed. You resembled a fish. You were stumped to answer quickly.

‘Miserable, infuriating, torturous, pleasurable mixed with a cup of agony...’

She lifted her brows until you hurriedly blurted, “He is...formidable and righteous...” you stood up tall and took a step back, adding with a monetarism of truth, “I am very lucky to have become his bride.”

‘Lucky, while incredibly resentful.’

You reached back, Sherlock adopted your arm back into his hold once more.

Lady Pennicott rubbed her belly, her eyes started to twinkle, “And soon you will have a plethora of children that will look like him I gather.”

Your eyes fluttered. Sherlock’s hand tightened around your glove and his throat bobbed. You felt hot in the face.

Yes that’s right, that’s what normal husband and wife did isn’t it? They have children. That was your role, to be the mother of Sherlock’s offspring...

You couldn’t answer.

And there. That dear girl is when you questioned for the first time. ‘Is this what I want?’ and ‘Do I want Sherlock’s children.’ Because having a knowing of his barbarism conflated a fear in your belly...would Sherlock hurt his own children if he could easily hurt you, his wife?

When you hesitated for too long to answer her again, Sherlock said with a strained tone that was masked in a hopeful joy, “One may only hope, Baroness.”

“Lady Pennicott,” Graydon interrupted, “We have come to ask you on the whereabouts of Lord Pennicott and the evening he was last sighted.”

Her eyes narrowed at the inspector and with an annoyed twinge she muttered and wiped her hands on a nearby blanket, “I already informed the police of what I was informed of by our butler Edward.”

She glanced up next her right. Mister Redmayne observed her, looking down. The pair smiled to each other. She reached out to him. She grabbed his hand and they squeezed.

The inspector laughed nervously, “Indeed but Detective Sherlock Holmes was not presently involved in the case until yesterday.”

Her eyes flickered quickly to your husband and her face flared with confusion quickly to be matched with a impressed smile, “Of course, please sit all of you as I am near a indisposition with my child,” she gestured to the mirroring chaise and a chair beside the fireplace, “Edward, please tell Martha to bring tea and biscuits for our kind service men and Mrs Holmes.”

The butler bowed to you all and left the sitting room.

Lestrade took his place on the lone chair while Sherlock sat you beside him on the chaise. You took your time to lower yourself. Sitting on your bruises was uncomfortable while another cramp hit you. Your fingers dug into his palm.

From Lestrades breast pocket he pulled out a notebook and small pencil.

“Lady Pennicott,” Sherlock softly hummed, “Please, could you tell me what your husband is like as a person?”

The woman who you believed was in her late thirties smiled and stated softly, “My Thaddeus is a noble man, good taste in wine and very devoted to his work. He likes to go hunting and we share a passion for gardening,” she glanced up at the ceiling and paused, “He prefers to plant vegetables to donate to the church and orphans, whereas I have always loved to grow my flowers.”

The way she described him, her devotion was deep and honourable. She touched her round belly.

Sherlock looked over to the fire place behind the baroness. On the mantle was a magnificent portrait twice your height, painted on the canvas was who you recognised as Lord and Lady Pennicott. He was sitting up straight on a fine red cushioned chair with his dirty blonde hair and softened mutton chops while she stood at his right and her ringed hand on his shoulder. The similarities were there but Lady Pennicotts hair had lightened in reality perhaps from all the years that separated her likeness and her reality.

“I was informed Lord Pennicott is a father of five?” Sherlock asked.

The Baroness smiled proudly and pat her tummy softly, “Six soon.”

You couldn’t help notice something was missing from the painting, Sherlock also had a similar thought.

Where were the children in the portrait? Where was a family portrait in the house?

“Forgive me,” a breath of air escaped from him, “are the children away at school?”

“Oh,” her uncanny smile remained while her brows angled down, her throat tightened as she spoke, “I fear they are in the loving embrace of angels now. All of them were taken from us by God,” her eyes glanced to you, “They came out sleeping.”

Your heart sunk to the pit of your belly with sorrow and pity.

Five babies lost, five babies gone…five pregnancies… four and a half years of pregnancy and for what? Five angels.

A woman had one holy role in life, to bare her husband children, and when a woman was defective or produced a sickly child, it was a symbol of failure in society. But you never saw it that way...you imagined it must’ve been agony to lose so many babies. One or two was a common occurrence but five? Five was a curse to experience and relive over and over.

“Well,” you interrupted Sherlock rudely, cutting him off from his next abrasive question by squeezing his hand a little too hard.

You could see the mourning in the baroness’ face. You saw the classic look of all women made uncomfortable by something a man has said. What the hell would the detective know about a woman’s emotions after how coldly he has treated all women and yourself.

You shuffled on the opposite chaise and smile softly, “I will pray this one will come swiftly and feel the warmth of their mother.”

The baroness’ face lifted and warmed. She smiled happily and nodded, “Thankyou, oh I’m just so excited! This one really is a big one, I can feel it. I hope it’s a boy.”

Sherlock was staring at you intensely as the maid Martha finally delivered a pot of tea and poured the steaming liquid. His brows were knitted and his eyes held suspicion as he kept you in his sight. You politely nodded your head once at him before reaching for a hot cup and lifting it to your lips.

Sherlock sighed and turned back to his questioning, “You would say you liked your marriage?”

The baroness appeared offended by your husband as her face wrinkled and a sneer spread her thin lips, “Of course, any woman who doesn’t like her marriage should not be married in the first place. She is a burden to her husband if she cannot perform her duties as a wife.”

Lady Pennicott leant forward and collected her own cup of tea, she delicately pinched a biscuit and dunked it into the contents.

…you felt Sherlock drag his thumb across your fingers. You felt chilly, could he read your thoughts? Did he know truly how much you already hated him and his ideas of intimacy in your marriage? He clear his throat when both your glancing eyes caught each other.

“Can you tell me what happened,” Sherlock pressed, “The night of your husbands disappearance?”

“Well...after dinner,” the baroness sighed in thought and nibbled on her moist biscuit, “Thaddeus wanted to speak with me in his office about a spending I had made a week ago. You see, I had bought a cradle for the nursery. The one we had originally was broken and beyond repair, we disposed of it a month prior. Thaddeus was not pleased with the price and claimed it was an unnecessary purchase,” she paused and set her cup aside before she touched her belly again; rubbing in soft slow circles, she began to blushed, “He was sorely hurt by my choice. He then became very cross with me and left his office in a huff.”

She looked to the yarn, to the tea pot and then finally to the painting on the mantle, “I deemed that he would find forgiveness in his heart by the morning and brush it off. I returned back to the nursery to tidy up before I went to my rooms and went to bed to sleep in my quarters of the east wing. Thaddeus keeps himself to the west wing most nights.”

The detective nodded, “What time do you believe it was when you went to your bed, Baroness?”

She hummed softly while pursuing her lips, “A quarter to nine in the evening.”

“And how did you realise your husband was missing?” Sherlock stole a scone off the tea tray and lifted it to his lips. He paused amidst chewing it slowly.

The noble woman sighed and recollected, pragmatically, “In the morning Mr Redmayne informed me on how Thaddeus took off into the night astride Arion, our prize stallion Clydesdale. Thaddeus had not returned by the next morning and that is when concern drew near. I sent members of my staff to the factories to investigate his whereabouts and none had come upon him. I knew something had to be wrong so I alerted the authorities by the second morning.”

Your husband took a deep breath and discarded the half bitten scone, he wiped his hand unceremoniously on his jacket and throatily asked, “Do you recall if Lord Pennicott has any potential persons he might be deemed as an enemy towards?”

“Only his company competitors, Detective,” She said saccharinely with her smile, “He was a very loveable man.”

“Do you have a list of the names of staff who were working that evening here in Groveland House?”

The butler stepped forward and cleared his throat, “That would be in Lord Pennicotts office,” he pulled out a pair of keys, “I can you show you gentlemen in and where he keeps his accounts and other paraphernalia to his business if you’d like?”

Both Sherlock and Lestrade smiled and stood up.

“Baroness,” Sherlock gently requested, “Would it be overly bothersome if my beloved wife remained and kept you company while the inspector and I look in your husband’s office.”

Your heart jumped to your throat. What was Sherlock doing leaving you behind with the Baroness by yourself!?....what if you spoke out of turn or said something too presumptuous for your status!?...

“Most certainly not,” she beamed “I will gladly accept such delightful company,” She held out a hand, palm down to her right. The butler speedily stepped to her side and leant her his hand. She winced as she scooted forward on the cushioned lounge before struggling to rise to her feet.

Sherlock leant down and kissed the back of your wrist again, so scantily in front of the baroness. You tried tor refrain from loudly gasped and bringing anymore dangerous attention to yourself. Your husband left your side and followed the butler with Lestrade out of the sitting room.

So the party turned to two married women. The baroness was pleased.

She stepped closer to you and reached for your arm. You were surprised by her familiarity but you would not deny the assistance of a woman so desperately swollen and ready to birth any day.

“My dear, would you care to have a stroll with me in my garden?” She smirked and jerked her chin, “Knowing how dear Thaddie kept his space organised I suspect the gentlemen might be a while.”

You nodded and quickly made the warning assurance, “Are you in a condition to move great feets Lady Pennicott?”

“Fret not,” She giggled girlishly and waved her hand casually, “The physician told me fresh air is delightful for the health of the babe,” she tapped the top of her belly, “I have a month or so before they come.”

Your eyes widened, she looked huge enough to give birth now, surely she wasn’t a month away!! Maybe she was going to be blessed with a pair of twins. You had such a limited knowledge of pregnancy in women. Your grandmother hadn’t given birthed a child in the last forty years before your birth!!!

She pointed the way out of the main mansion to enter the garden paths. The sun was perfect today amongst the clouds. It was neither cold nor hot nor humid and dank...it was pleasant and you could smell the fresh nature of bushels and flowers.

“How long have you been known as, The Mrs Holmes?” She inquired cheerfully with her shining silver eyes.

“...Not very long,” you replied warmly before risking a white lie, “We recently finished our honeymoon.”

She grinned and waddled passed a wooden bench, she took a quick stop to rest and pat the seat for you to join her instead of standing dumbly.

“Shall I share some words of advise?,” She hummed, “From a woman that has been married for twelve years?”

“I would be ever so grateful,” you said rushed and desperate. You wouldve listened to anything she had to say. A woman of her standing must’ve held adequate wisdom.

She warmly cupped both your hands and squeezed them. And yet there was an ice creepy into her gaze. She appeared to dissociate, her voice losing its youthful lilt. Her lip wobbled slightly.

“Men are visual creatures. While you are so young and beautiful, you must become pregnant as soon as possible,” Lady Pennicott ran her palm across your waist, her eyes like razors cut across the yard to a bush of red rose buds, “It is inevitable that our husbands will stray their gazes to other women, it is in their nature,” those grey stones in her face rolled back and weighed you down, “as I said- visual creatures. The sooner you make a babe, the easier his devotion comes,” A joyous grin returned to her thin lips, she playfully tapped the tip of your nose and stated, “Trust me upon this.”

You clenched your hand behind you and strained a smile, “I thankyou for such wise words Baroness. I will endeavour to do what I must to conceive.”

At this moment in time Sherlock had proved himself a monstrous villain. Would it be possible for you to fall pregnant?

You looked out at the divine lush greenery and exhaled softly.

“Do you garden Mrs Holmes?” the baroness queried.

You chuckled softly and removed your gloves, you flashed her a sight of your palm, “I am afraid my hands have never been introduced. My grandmother preferred I focus on mastering piano and embroidery.”

The grey orbs fluttered back at you with a surprised him, “Embroidery is a lovely skill,” she pat your hand and pointed across the field, “Please help me up Mrs Holmes, let us take a look at my lilacs.”

You stood straight up and leant out your arm, she was surprisingly light for a woman her size. She leant against you and took small timid steps to her flower patches.

She stood and admired the flower patches, pointing to different types and explaining the breeds of flowers she hoped to grow in the future.

You finally bent over enough and cupped the petals of purple to hold up to your nose and took in a wiff “They smell lovely,” from the corner of your eye was a line of crimson, “I see your roses will soon be in bloom.”

She pinched a bud that was peaking to bloom soon.

“Oh yes, the soil is rich and healthy,” she giggled, “I can’t wait for Thaddeus to return, he liked the roses. He would stand here for a while and think. I know he will love the red colour. It is his favourite shade you see...” She sighed dreamily with her eyes scanning the bushes of scarlet rose buds, “I miss him terribly. I hope he’s alright. I want him to come home soon before the baby arrives.”

A fly smacked into your eye and you sputtered, battering it away. When you gracelessly composed yourself, you stood back up to your feet beside the Lady of Groveland.

You could see how her eyes puddles with droplets of mournful tears. You felt bad for any woman that did not know where her husband was. Especially if there was a rumour about him fleeing the marriage and abandoning her in her serious pregnant condition.

Taking the chance, you boldly took both your hands into yours and now squeezed them. Another buzzing from a fly sat on your shoulder.

The day was growing warmer and a bead of sweat rolled down your neck. The fly tickled your neck and suckled along your salted skin.

You tried your best to ignore the annoying creature.

“I am sure he will Lady Pennicott,” you soothed with a soft welcoming grin, “And he will be most happy when he returns.”

She sighed solemnly and glanced back at the rose bushes. You felt obligated for her happiness in that moment. Glancing back to the house you felt a opportunity come to you.

“May I visit your nursery Lady Pennicott, so I may have references for my own in the future?”

Her eyes flickered up, her face shine bright and her hand tightened over your wrists excitedly as though she was still as youthful as a school girl.

“Why of course Mrs Holmes,” she spun on her heel and wobbled a slight, she lifted her hand and called to the maid Martha still packing the china set inside, “Please inform the detective that I am taking his wife up to the nursery.”

“Yes Baroness,” she said with a humble curtsey and scurried off while Lady Pennicott took you totally inside the house and up a grand stair case from the foyer.

9:03am Wednesday 7th May 1890, Grovelands House, The Bourne, London, England. 

Up, up, up you both climbed the stairs. You noticed how the stairs didn’t bother her ladyship once, she was fit and stridden widely whereas you were breathing a little hard by the top step.

She pulled you down a hallway to a white painted door.

She excitedly opened the door wide and practically skipped inside to show you around her future child’s room.

The walls were covered in light blue and yellow paint. There were small peonies covering the trim of the room. There was no carpet but who needed one when you had a newborn.

“Welcome to the resting nest of my baby,” Lady Pennicott proudly exclaimed, spreading her arms out at the room around you.

There was a tall shelf filled with stuffed animals and teddy bears. There was a rocking horse, a doll house, spinning tops, tin cars and rubber balls all waiting, collecting dust, awaiting the arrival of a playmate. There was a permabulator by the window sill. There was a rocking chair in one corner and against the wall closest to the door- you smiled and swaggered over curiously, “Is this the cradle you bought?”

It was made of fine cream painted wood. You chewed your bottom lip in the thought. It was a lovely crib, why was Lord Pennicott so upset by such a delightful purchase? He didn’t have money issues. You put it down as that you didn’t understand the way men thought and men will never know what women think.

“Yes,” Lady Pennicott chirped, “it is from William Whitely department store in Baywater next to the Howard & Co dress department.”

The Baroness sat down into her rocking chair and slowly moved it back and forth, watching you admire the nursery she spent hours and years consistently curating.

You clenched the edge and looked over the railing down at the empty bedding. There was a teddy lamb in the corner, you pinched it’s fluffy white tail and sighed. For a brief moment you let your eyes close and your imagination wander far.

One day you’d have this...with Sherlock. An empty cradle to be filled. You caught the vision of a tiny hand squeeze around your finger and the sound of soft gurgles with the warm pressure of a hand on your waist...was that Sherlock’s hand? Was that your child?

One day you’d have a baby to care for, to provide these things that meant love...yet, was any child of Sherlock’s capable of love? He certainly wasn’t as far as you were concerned.

You bit down a shudder and opened your eyes, feeling hot tears glide down a cheek. You pushed back and sighed, “I am most confident on one thing Lady Pennicott.”

“And what is that Mrs Holmes?” she said softly, she could see the unspoken pain in your face. You swallowed hard and your face fell into a smile, you flashed her a wink.

You laughed softly, “Your child will be spoilt rotten by the love you give.”

She chuckled with you and nodded.

“Have you thought of a name?” you inquired, waltzing over to the chested drawers of baby knick knacks on display.

“Thaddeus Colin if it’s a boy,” she hummed, “or Theresa Grace if it is a girl.”

“Theresa?”

She giggled gently, “That is my name dear.”

Mrs Theresa Pennicott. It suited her. Her old soul eyes reflected her devout name.

A shine of glass pierced a ray of sun into your eyes, you pinched the glass object carefully. You touched a long black tube pulling out of it. You couldnt understand it’s purpose, your eyes narrowed at the rubber end that was shaped like a thumb or a cows udder. There was a second tube attached to the first with a rubber squeeze ball at the end.

“What is this?” you humoured.

“Oh that? It’s a fantastic invention,” The baroness said, “It’s a pump for breast milk with a tube that syphons the milk into this baby feeding bottle. When babies start to teeth they can scar your breasts. This is an effective and modern method I look forward to trying.”

Your eyes widened, scarring!? Babies teeth could scar a breast!?

You placed the bottle bump back and helped Lady Pennicott when she beckoned to stand back up from the rocking chair.

“Have you ever felt the sensations?” She suddenly, “In which they kick within?”

Your face must’ve looked idiotic as you asked plainly, “Kick?”

She giggled and nodded, “Give me your hand, perhaps you may feel them moving.”

She plucked your palm and pulled your glove off your fingers. She pressed your entire hand intimately to her belly. You felt a sense of taboo shame, she was making you touch such a beloved spot.

“Do you feel it?” she then asked.

Felt what? Confusion flooded your mind. Your hand moved around her belly slowly.

“I am afraid I don’t know what I’m meant to be feeling?”

She moved your hand and again you felt absolutely nothing.

“They are very brutal on my body,” Lady Pennicott sarcastically assured, “trust me there is a kick.”

She made a point to push your hand harder, but all you felt was the hard material of her corsetry beneath her main dressing materials.

“Baby’s kick you inside?” you marvelled with stunned horror. This was the first time you’d ever heard of such a notion of a baby beating it’s mother inside.

“Not out of malicious intent Mrs Holmes,” she reassured, “mostly it is the baby using its limbs to move their cramped bodies inside or excitement at the sound of voices, I truly believe they can hear us while still inside. Fear not, to you it will feel like a faint touch like this-”

Lady Pennicott softly tapped your wrist, “Like that.”

And there again was new knowledge you heard from a woman on matters of pregnancy. You moved your fingers around, seeking the supposed feeling of a kick...

Still nothing. You frowned, was there something wrong with you that the baby was choosing not to reveal itself.

“How interesting...”

A soft knock on wood alerted you both to glance at the door.

“Mrs Holmes,” the butler from earlier politely spoke, “the detective is requesting your return, I believe he intends to depart.”

Your face fell. You couldn’t believe it but you’d found this experience immensely enjoyable. You had surprisingly made a friend of the Baroness.

The fair lady hugged your side and sweetly exhaled, “Then I shall escort you back to your husband, Eddie fetch me my cheque book.”

He nodded and walked ahead of you both. You solemnly shut the nursery door, trying to remember every precious detail as possible. It was a innocent place to escape from the crude world.

You returned to the bottom of the foyer and smiled at your husband that stood by Lestrade at the front doors.

By the bottom step you faced the noble woman and curtsied.

“Thankyou Lady Pennicott for your kind hospitality and agreeable cooperation to the case,” you heard Sherlock’s voice float over your shoulder.

“Of course detective, please,” the Butler returned with her cheque book, “find my beloved Thaddeus.”

She scribbled speedily with a modernised ink pen, a sharp tear of paper flashed to his direction, “Here. Thirty pounds. I am sure you are busy with other clients considering your reputation, but I beseech you to seek out my husband quickly.”

Sherlock bowed his head as he deposited the cheque into his pocket, “We shall try our hardest. Good afternoon Lady Pennicott.”

Your mouth might’ve collected flies. Thirty pounds. THIRTY pounds. That was a hefty wage for a year to many men.

Sherlock was granted his coat and walking cane along with Lestrade.

He opened the front door and left slowly, glancing over your shoulder back at the heavily pregnant Baroness.

9:21am Wednesday 7th May 1890, Grovelands House, The Bourne, London, England. 

Sherlock and you walked up the gravel path in silence for sometime. You weren’t in much of a mood to speak to him despite well knowing conversation would need to spark eventually.

The three of you slowed down beside the inspectors horse cart.

Thankfully it was Sherlock who destroyed the silence with a stretched sigh. Lestrade grimly smiled at that sigh and rocked on his heels.

“Lestrade, show a useful skill,” Sherlock slapped a coin purse into his chest, “Find my wife and I a decent ride homeward. You still need to return back to the office and finish writing those reports on the Spring heeled Jack sightings....” he snickered.

The mutton chop male grumbled and left you pair alone to walk down the path into the main parklands to hail a cabriolet or another hackney carriage.

Sherlock pulled out his pipe and lit it quickly, he inhaled fast and asked curiously, “Did you learn anything else from our suspect?”

You squinted and felt a gasp pop from your lips, your hand snapped out and dug your nails into his arm with a scolding hiss, “Suspect? Look at the state she is in Sherlock. She clearly loves her husband. How could such a indisposed woman do anything to her husband?”

He smirked, “Perhaps a jealous one?”

Your brows pulled together. Jealousy wasn’t something you would’ve describe Lady Pennicott as especially with such a privileged life. Such an emotion wouldve been beneath her...but.. ‘It is inevitable that our husbands will stray their gazes to other women, it is in their nature.’

Sherlock pinched out a piece of card from his pocket, a business calling card, he flashed it through his fingers and let you carefully pluck it from his hand.

“it is no wonder Thaddeus Pennicotts name was so familiar,” Sherlocks huffed a puff of air, “He visits a like minded establishment.”

On the front of the card was a single image, a dove holding a olive leaf, and when you turned the card around there was a woman modelled in immodest clothing with text and an address in perfect hand writing.

“The Mayfair Row Dove club.”

You almost dropped the card in the mud at your feet.

He tucked the card back into his breast pocket and hooked his arm around yours, walking you closer to Lestrade waving his hands back at you both.

“I’m curious who his go to bird is there,” He chuckled.

You shook your head and scoffed in disbelief, “but she’s pregnant.”

“Men have needs,” Sherlock sighed, “I thought you’d have learnt that from last evening?”

Your nails dug harder into his arm and grit your teeth. Not everyone was as depraved as Sherlock, surely not. You couldn’t imagine Mycroft or your grandfather practicing such atrocities on women, especially women that weren’t their wives.

You noted snootily, “She said her husband liked to stand out by the roses to think. Perhaps he regretted his choice.”

Sherlock laughed cruelly and hard enough to almost drop his pipe from his lips. He plucked it out of his mouth and kissed you hard and squarely in front of Lestrade and any passing people that shook their heads in disgust at such public affection.

The taste of his tobacco filled your cheeks and floated down your throat into your chest. You could feel how his breath became your breath. Your head grew dizzy from it. His release left you trembling and collapsing against him briefly. His arm grabbed around your waist and held you totally against his chest.

“You see too much good in the worst people,” he whispered wetly into your ear.

“Not true,” you panted, you blinked your eyes hard and tried speaking again. You weakly pushed away from him back onto your own two feet. From the corner of your eyes you could see the inspector standing beside another hackney carriage.

“Not true,” you repeated and swallowed hard, “...I don’t see any good in you Sherlock.”

He grinned devilishly and walked you both to the carriage, He ignored Lestrade entirely except for retrieving his own purse.

“None at all?” Sherlock asked as he helped you step up inside of the carriage. It jostled as he plotted himself next to you instead of opposite.

You thought hard on his question for a time. You shouldn’t have ever been as petty as him. So you kept your silence before you could decide on a eloquent response. You did try to find the good in him. The trouble was you barely knew Sherlock and the side that you’d encounter was nothing short of a blagged, insufferable man that happened to be very experienced in the arts of the bedroom. So you tried to think about qualities you hadn’t seen in him but had at least heard of him.

“You help solve cases and even sometimes restitution, these deeds could be counted as decent and beneficial...perhaps good...”

He smirked until you finished hastily, “However your mistreatment and lustful addiction is nothing short of that than a person that suffers in his sin.”

A long annoyed sigh drew from his lips, however the corners jerked up.

He tug out his pipe and tapped it’s contents out the moving window, “Might I ask Mrs Holmes...” he inquired as he tucked in his pipe, and wiped his lips thoughtfully, “Do you think yourself better than me?”

The silence shared between the horses trotting along the cobblestones allowed you a chance to glare long and hard at Sherlock.

It was a jab, a jibe, a joke, a trick, a trap...

He wanted you to say yes... You could see it in his eyes the way they flicked to your lips and almost drooled with anticipation. He wanted to start a fight.

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking at you, you turned your head away and scoffed, “You may have quick wit and a expansive knowledge Sherlock, but I at least carry myself with the fairest morals.”

And that? The reply was granted a omen of Sherlock’s sickly chuckles and his heavy warm hand to sit over your thigh, running his them over the fabric of your skirts.

“We will see how fair a baker street whore morals really are when we arrive home then shall we?”

You leant against the wall of the carriage and chose to ignore him. You closed your eyes and held Sherlock’s hand to prevent it wandering anywhere else. His thumb rubbed along the back of your gloves hands.

You couldn’t understand Sherlock. And feared you never would.

HELPLINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

[caitified]

big day

caitlin clark x reader

warnings:none ( part three, part two here )

the day of the wedding dawned bright and crisp, sunlight filtering through the curtains as you stirred awake. there was a buzz in the air, a sense of excitement you could feel from the moment you opened your eyes. today was the day—after months of planning, dreaming, and counting down, you and caitlin would finally say “i do.”

your closest friends and family were already around, bustling through the house, and you could hear laughter and the hum of voices as they set up. every detail felt like a small gift, reminders of everything you and caitlin had built together. with every flower arrangement, every light fixture, it was clear this day had been made just for you two.

you met caitlin briefly that morning, sneaking one last hug before the day took off. she’d held you close, her arms warm and familiar. “i can’t wait,” she murmured, her voice soft and full of emotion. “i’ll see you at the altar.”

those words echoed in your mind as you slipped into your dress, fingers trembling as your friends helped zip it up, adjusting every last detail. you took one last look in the mirror and felt a swell of anticipation—it felt surreal, but seeing yourself ready, knowing this was the day you’d marry caitlin, filled you with a joy you could hardly describe.

meanwhile, on the other side of the venue, caitlin was pacing in her suit, grinning ear to ear as her friends teased her. she looked incredible in her deep navy suit, fitted perfectly, with subtle detailing that gave it a unique touch—something that felt distinctly like her. her friends laughed as she fussed with her cufflinks, a nervous habit she couldn’t shake. but she couldn’t stop grinning. “i just want to see her already,” she admitted, glancing at her reflection. “i can’t believe today is actually here.”

her best friend clapped her on the back, laughing. “you look like a lovesick puppy. but don’t worry; you’ll be seeing her in just a little bit. just breathe, cait.”

caitlin took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and when she looked in the mirror again, there was a determination in her eyes. she knew you were the one from the moment she met you, but somehow, knowing she’d be promising forever in just a few moments made it all sink in.

the guests began to gather, filling the venue with quiet chatter and smiles. the autumn colors you both had dreamed of surrounded you—deep oranges, soft golds, warm ambers that glowed as the sun streamed through the trees. candles flickered along the aisle, creating a cozy, intimate atmosphere, just as you both had imagined.

when it was time, the music started, and you felt your heart race as the doors opened. the world seemed to slow as you stepped forward, locking eyes with caitlin at the end of the aisle. her gaze was fixed on you, her expression soft and full of awe. she looked like she was holding back tears, and you could see her take a deep breath as she tried to steady herself.

you walked toward her, every step feeling like a promise, a memory. every laugh you’d shared, every late-night conversation, every dream you’d ever had together seemed to echo around you. finally, you reached her, and she took your hands, her touch warm and steady as she whispered, “you look beautiful.”

the ceremony began, and as you stood there, listening to the officiant, you couldn’t help but get lost in her eyes. there was a glow in them, a look that held every unspoken word between you two, all the shared moments that had led you to this exact spot.

when it came time for the vows, caitlin took a breath, her hands gently squeezing yours as she looked straight into your eyes. “i remember the first time i met you,” she began, her voice a little shaky, “i remember thinking, ‘how did i get so lucky to know someone like you?’ every day since then, i’ve only fallen more in love with you. you make me want to be the best version of myself. today, i promise to stand by you, to laugh with you, to hold you through every high and every low. i’ll be there, always.”

her words washed over you, and you felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. when it was your turn, you took a deep breath, your heart pounding. “caitlin, from the moment we met, you’ve felt like home. you’ve been my best friend, my rock, my safe place. i promise to cherish you, to lift you up, and to love you fiercely, through every season of our lives. i can’t wait to build a life with you.”

after the vows, there was a pause as the officiant spoke, but all you could focus on was caitlin. then, finally, the words you’d been waiting for: “you may now kiss.”

caitlin didn’t hesitate. she took your face in her hands and leaned in, her lips meeting yours in a soft, warm kiss that felt like the culmination of everything you’d been through together. cheers erupted around you, but all you could feel was her, her touch, her warmth, her love. pulling back, she whispered, “we did it.”

the reception was a whirlwind of laughter, music, and dancing. you barely left each other’s side, holding hands as you made your rounds, sharing stories with friends and family, and sneaking glances at each other as if you couldn’t believe you were actually married. during your first dance, caitlin held you close, her hand firm on your waist, guiding you in slow circles under the soft glow of the lights.

she leaned down, whispering in your ear, “thank you for making me the happiest woman in the world.”

you smiled, resting your head on her shoulder. “thank you for giving me forever.”

as the night wound down, you slipped away to a quiet corner, watching as your guests continued to celebrate. caitlin wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close as she whispered, “ready to start this adventure with me?”

you looked up at her, your heart swelling with love and excitement. “i’ve never been more ready.”

thanks for reading! requests are open.

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: stalker/ unsuccessful kidnap, violence, depictions of blood and assault (let me know if I should add more)

Chapter Word Count: 2318

—-MDNI—-

A/N: Sooooo I’m sorry it’s not spicy like I said it would be… But I absolutely promise the next one will be! Chapters 5 and 6 were supposed to be just one chapter but it got too long so I had to split it… And again please let me know of any errors because this is only proof read by myself.

——————————————————————

Please Read the Below First:

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

I’m Not You’re F*cking Maid

Chapter 5

After thorough interviewing of the staff and regular patrons; long searches through copious auction records and meticulous studying of the items in the shop we narrowed our search down to one item: an old jade hairpin. The hairpin belonged to a young lady who was given the gift as a wedding present, however when she found out on her wedding night that her new husband was having an affair, she stabbed him to death with it before jumping to her own demise from their third floor balcony. That was just over a century ago, and she was still wreaking havoc on unfaithful men to this day.

“I mean I get where she’s coming from,” I shrugged as we walked back to the motel. Both brothers turned to look at me with concern smeared over their features. “OBVIOUSLY I don’t agree with all the murder,” they breathed a sigh of relief, “but you can’t hate her for being mad. I would be too.”

“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” Dean said, raising his eyebrows a little and holding his hands up. I gave him a look of bewilderment.

“What side do you think you’re on, Dean? Because this,” I gestured between us, “isn’t my good side.” He mumbled something incoherent as we got to the motel so I chose to ignore him completely.

“So what’s the plan? It’s getting late and we can’t really do anything now until that charity event taking place at the auction house tomorrow. We’re already pretty clued up on how to get rid of ghosts so there’s really not much to do except to get both your names on that guest list,” Sam patted his laptop, looking at both of us.

“Food?” Dean and I said at the same time.

“Food sounds good,” Sam nodded. The boys turned around to leave when I stopped them.

“Just whilst we’re still at the motel, I’m just going to freshen up real quick.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “really?” I flipped him the bird.

“I can just meet you there? There’s like only one diner in this town and I know the way. I won’t be long.” The brothers looked at each other for a few seconds before Sam looked at me and smiled.

“Sure ok, we’ll get a seat in the window so we can see you coming.”

“Great! I’ll see you soon,” I grinned at the younger Winchester before turning away and letting myself into my room.

I had the worlds quickest shower and threw on some clean underwear and a clean top, feeling better after getting the grime from the day off. I pulled on my jeans, socks and boots, applied a small amount of eyeliner and mascara and tidied my hair the best I could before slinging on my jacket and applying some perfume to my wrists and neck. It was one of my favourite scents: I’d bought it from some lingerie store a year or so ago and it’s apparently one of those aphrodisiac perfumes, however I have no idea if it even works or not. It’s probably a scam, nothing works that well in real life.

After I’d finished sorting myself out - which took no longer than half an hour - I grabbed my phone and keys and left the room, locking up before making my way towards the diner. Night had descended, the air turning cold against my warm skin and the usually busy streets now lay deserted and car-free. It was only about a five minute walk or so from the motel and I was now only about a minute away when I noticed that I wasn’t alone. I’d caught a glimpse of a figure dressed from head to toe in black in the reflection of several shop windows, and they were following my exact trail. I sped up, walking faster down the empty main road and hoping it was all a coincidence as worst case scenarios started to race through my mind. It wasn’t long until the diner was in sight and I breathed a sigh of relief, however the relief was short lived when those footsteps were getting closer and closer, quicker and quicker right behind me. It dawned on me that this wasn’t a coincidence at all - I was definitely being stalked. I started to run, my legs moving before my brain had kicked into gear and I was only inches from the front door when the stranger caught up, slamming me against the wall of the building and putting a knife to my throat, covering my mouth with a gloved hand.

“Don’t make a fucking noise - you’re coming with me,” he said aggressively yet quietly. I could feel the blade of the knife pressing against the soft skin of my neck and I couldn’t help but feel tears well in my eyes, my breath turning shaky as my heart hammered in my chest. I couldn’t even get any words out as his hand was too tight over my lips.

I wanted to cry out for help so badly it hurt.

I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing that this was all a bad dream. My cheek was pushed into the rough brick which grazed my skin, and I silently prayed for my attacker to just let me go or for some hero to come and save me. At that very moment I heard the door to the diner and my eyes shot open, instantly connecting with Deans. I watched as surprise turned to horror which then turned to pure feral rage on his face and before I even had a chance to blink he was gone from my line of sight - but so was the pressure keeping me pinned against the wall. I spun around and I watched Dean throw the stalker to the floor with more force that I thought he could muster and tower over him. Dean didn’t say a word, but the stranger let out a sharp cry of pain as Dean instantly brought his boot down on his ribs. There was a CRACK. He did it again.

And again.

And again.

And then he got down and pinned my attacker flush against the tarmac before he brought a closed fist down on his face over and over and over again, cracking his jaw and breaking his nose. Dean didn’t stop until the man was totally unrecognisable and unresponsive. Standing up off of his limp body, he looked over to me, his furious, almost animalistic stare softening instantly, even through all the blood that now painted his face. He took one step towards me before my feet worked on their own and carried me straight to him. I put my arms out to reach for him and he grabbed my hands and pulled me into his chest with zero hesitation, his arms circling me and his blood-soaked palms gently stroking my hair. I sobbed. I sobbed from the fear I felt, I sobbed for feeling like such a victim and I sobbed for the relief I now felt flooding my veins as Dean held me, not saying a word. Listening to his heartbeat with my ear to his chest, I felt so safe and secure that it made me want to sob even more.

*

Dean ended up taking me straight back to my room - he called Sam to tell him what had happened as he wasn’t going to be returning to the diner. I had my second shower of the day as soon as we returned, wanting to scrub everywhere that horrible man had touched. Whilst I was washing, Dean had headed back to his own room to shower off the layer of blood coating his skin. After I was satisfactorily clean, I dried myself and dressed in that old T-shirt I wore the night before, pulling on some fresh underwear and perching on the end of the bed. I picked up the remote and started mindlessly flicking through channels, hoping to find something to distract my racing brain.

I’d been sitting in the same position for around ten minutes when there was a gentle knock on the door. I held my breath as I got up and walked over, looking through the peephole. It was Dean. I released that breath as I opened the door and let him in. He’d changed from his usual gruff attire to something way more comfortable - a plain white T-shirt and a pair of plaid pyjama bottoms. He smiled at me. A kind smile, nothing like those teasing and sly ones we’d been throwing at each other since yesterday. This one was genuine, and it made my chest feel warm. He locked the door behind him as I padded back over to the bed and climbed on it, sitting right in the centre with my legs crossed. I pulled the T-shirt down to cover my dignity as Dean placed a carrier bag in front of me. I peeked inside. It was full to the brim of all different types of snacks and I grinned up at him.

“You sure do know how to treat a girl, Winchester.”

He let out a soft laugh and looked down at the floor before taking residence beside me.

“You’re the first one who thinks so”.

“Oh yeah?”

“There’s a long line of women who definitely think otherwise,” he smiled a slightly sad smile. We both paused before I continued.

“Well if it means anything, what you did for me today, I-” he held a hand up to stop me as he saw the look of fear flit across my features again, the horrid memory bubbling to the surface.

“It was the least I could do,” he said softly before his brows furrowed, “but to be honest I should never have let you out of my sight.” The almost protective tone of his voice made my heart flutter a little, but It was my turn to reassure him as I placed my hand on his shoulder delicately.

“Dean, none of us knew that would happen. I know you wouldn’t have left me alone if you genuinely thought I was in danger - after all, you DID promise to keep me safe from my own shadow,” I flashed him a grin which he quickly returned, chuckling. We sat for a few moments in a strangely comfortable silence before there was another knock at the door. I went to get up to answer it but Dean beat me to it, swinging it open to show a very concerned Sam stood in the doorway. He looked at me with those big ever-worried eyes and I shot him my best ‘please don’t worry’ grin.

“I’m fine, Sam” I called out to him as I tried to listen in on the hushed words Dean was speaking. They conversed for a while, occasionally throwing glances at me as I rustled around in the bag of goodies Dean had supplied. Growing bored of not being involved with their conversation, I scooted back on the bed to lean back on the headboard and proceeded to flick through dozens of channels until I found something decent to watch. A few more minutes had passed and I’d munched my way through almost half a bag of Doritos when I heard the door close and it was just me and Dean again. He had a paper bag that Sam must’ve passed him, which he held up and pointed to.

“The blood stains came out of my clothes, although Sam said the people in the laundromat were giving him strange looks,” he laughed slightly, those striking eyes of his looking down into mine as he took a few steps closer. I laughed slightly, only imagining Sam’s awkwardness in that situation. I broke my gaze away from Dean for a few seconds, looking down at my hands before looking back up. I could tell he was hovering now, just waiting for me to say something.

“Dean I’m fine, you don’t have to stay.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind staying for a bit longer if you need me to” his hand ran over the stubble on his chin, his eyes not leaving me.

“Really, I’m ok. I’m probably just going to sit here and watch whatever this is-”

“It’s obviously Men in Black,” Dean scoffed. I smiled, finding comfort in the familiar snarky remark.

“Obviously - I don’t live under a rock Dean,” I rolled my eyes as I stood up, placing my hands on his chest. He was so warm to the touch that it was almost enticing me not to let go. The gentle thrum of his heartbeat was so soothing. But I did let go, and I spun him around to start ushering him to the door. As he was leaving, I grabbed my half eaten bag of chips and started munching again. He opened the door, stepping outside.

“Go back to your room Dean. I promise I’m ok. I don’t want you both hovering over me constantly making sure I’m fine; that will just make me feel worse,” I said as he spun to face me, nodding his head.

“Back to normal. Got it.”

“Great,” I said, sucking the tangy chip dust from my thumb. Dean suddenly reached out and snatched the half-eaten bag from my hand before quickly walking away.

“I’ll see you in the morning!” He shouted back at me before shovelling food into his mouth.

“You ass! I was eating those!” He shrugged in an overly animated fashion, not bothering to turn and look at me as he continued towards his room. I sighed, closing the door and locking it, sliding the chain across this time too. I padded back towards the bed and climbed in, pulling the covers up to my chin. As I started to drift off, the buzz of the movie still playing in the background, I smiled a little to myself:

Fucking Winchester.

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Up Next:

Chapter 6

[izvmimi]

cw: spoilers for the end of dr. stone! smut near the end. minors dni. angst at the beginning. reader implied to not be from japan.

Your subtle gift of premonition truly never fails you, and you realize so once more when you're crowded around Senku's laboratory with the remainder of Yuzuriha and Taiju's closest wedding guests and staring up at the monstrous contraption Senku is designating as a time machine.

While the remainder of the party is in curious astonishment, the uneasy feeling that's been sitting heavily in your chest since the morning of the wedding only solidifies further. 

Now you know why you woke up sick to your stomach on what should be a happy day.

Tsukasa stands close to you, pensive as always, thinking before he adds his own commentary, ever so careful with his words. There's a small smile on his face, and you read that as awe and amusement at Senku's relentless pursuit of scientific advancement; something he had once tried to suppress, he's come to appreciate, and while you'd normally be pleased with how far he's come in that respect, in this very moment it feels like a betrayal. 

A time machine would change everything.

Truly everything, and the selfish part of you scorns it. 

Tsukasa finds your hand besides him, still mulling over the details as Senku explains his roadmap to the group, and squeezes it gently without looking. Your corsage of pink flowers brushes against the sleeve of his suit, and you watch a few petals fall. Suddenly you are far too overwhelmed, and would much rather run of the room, but when you see hope warm Tsukasa's brown eyes, you hold in your unease as best you can. 

"Senku really is amazing, isn't he?" you say through a smile that should come easier than it does. Tsukasa hasn't turned to return your smile yet, still watching the machine, eyes wide. 

"He really is."

---

That evening, Tsukasa in his contrarily roundabout but very direct way of speaking, reaffirms his intention to marry you someday. In a small way, you might as well be married - you're inseparable, you live together with Mirai who calls you big sister and means it every single time, and he makes you feel his love every time he holds you in the dark, and presses deep into you, relishing in the sound of his name as it falls off his lips.

Something big if you want it. Something small will also suffice. Something that makes everything even more real, he says to you, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. Pillow talk should make you feel warm, warm as the liquid seeping between your legs. Warm as his arms. Warm as the sensation of his tongue in your mouth, on your skin. 

"Tsukasa," you finally speak up in the dark.

He pulls you closer, and you pause before the words bubble up inside you and force their way out -

"I don't want to lose you."

A lamp flickers on and Tsukasa takes in your tear-stained face with as much alarm allotted for someone so naturally stoic. His palm takes your cheek and rubs it gently, the other arm pulling you in closer to press against him. Your face buries into his chest, and there you let yourself really cry.

He lets you tremble in his embrace for a few more moments, pressing soft kisses to the top of your head. He has no idea what you're talking about, because how can he when you've remained in your head all day?

Once your sniffles have slowed, he pulls back so that he can look at you in the eyes again, making sure you're still within an arm's reach.

"How can you lose me when I've never left?" he asks. 

You swallow, and then decide if you must sound awful, now is the time.

"Without de-petrification, there's no way we would have met."

Tsukasa tenses for a moment, which makes your heart sink, but then he pulls you closer, then on top of him. Sliding upwards so that his back is propped up by the headboard, he strokes your forehead. He mulls the thought over for a moment, and you look up into his beautiful face, your heart pounding in anticipation. 

"I'd find you," he says, confidently, and you're stunned practically silent. Simple as that.

You blink for a moment, surprised by his answer, then find your face growing hot.

"What do you mean, 'you'd find me'? We lived on the opposite sides of the world? You would have been famous and I just... some girl with some normal job, and-"

He kisses you again to interrupt you, then presses his forehead to yours.

"Trust me. I'd find you."

You can feel your breath halt and he smiles.

"You don't believe me, do you?" he says. His gaze is soft, and he grins wider, confident, flipping you over so that he's over top of you. You can feel your face growing hot again but for a different reason now. Sucking in a breath, you wrinkle your nose.

"Were you gonna pluck me from my grad school classroom?" you ask him.

"If I must," he says. He kisses your neck, then parts your legs to wrap them around his waist. Your eyelashes flutter.

"Unrealistic," you reply. 

"I'd find you," he says again. His fingers intertwine with yours as he rubs against your center. You sigh, but he's taken all of the worry out of you and replaced it with playful jest. He's so good at this, the way he validates your fears, but doesn't allow you to feel afraid because he lacks that fear, and is always strong enough, good enough, brave enough to protect you. Even from yourself.

"Would you send me special signals through MMA's greatest knockouts montages on Youtube?"

This time he actually laughs, falling back on his heels.

"Yes," he answers. "Whatever it takes."

He's hard again, and the heavy thickness slaps on your pubic bone, and you tense, your heartbeat quickening, your mouth drying in want. He runs his hand through his hair to free the strands sticking to his face before he descends on you again, the other hand gripping the base of his cock to line up with your entrance.

He blows air from his nose, then pulls one of your legs over his shoulder. His teeth flash at you - he is your perfect, sweet, confident love of your life, and all of your worries cease.

"You should be less worried about universes where we don't meet and more concerned about the fact that you can't escape me in any timeline."

He fills you up, your back arching as his hands grip around your waist.

"You're always mine to love."

[writingsofwesteros]

#lost in the snow

I have some thoughts on how Cregan decided he wanted the Princess to be his wife.

It’s Aegon and Helaena’s wedding and as is customary, the lords from around Westeros were invited to help celebrate. Cregan hadn’t become the Lord of Winterfell yet, but he came alongside his father to enjoy the celebrations. It was such a long journey for the pair, but young Cregan thought it all worth it once he laid eyes on his Sweet Princess.

She stood by her younger brothers in the throne room as the family greeted their guests. Her radiant silver hair shone as it flowed down her back, and her eyes looked out on the Lords and Ladies curiously. She was shy, often seeking approval from her mother or grandsire before acting. It was clear however, just how beautiful the Princess was. All Targaryen’s had an ethereal quality about them, but the younger Princess was renowned for her beauty, much like that of her older half-sister. Cregan thought her perfect, his young heart enamoured.

The pair see each other in the training yards once. Cregan was invited to train with Aegon and Aemond, and though he regarded the brothers with contempt, he took the opportunity to release his frustrations. His Sweet Princess was sat on the balcony alongside her father embroidering a dragon sigil, and he catches her eyes occasionally flitting down to the yard whenever loud shouts sound. She sends him a small smile when he makes eye contact with her, and softly claps when he bests Aegon in their sparring match.

At the wedding feast Cregan asks her to dance. They are both young and have little experience with the lively tunes playing, but they aim to keep their movements coordinated. Sweet Princess enjoys his company enough, though she quickly dances with others for the rest of the night. Cregan thinks he sees a blush on her cheeks when she spots him across the dance floor however. She walks up to him at the end of the night, eyes downcast and face a flaming red, and shoves a small handkerchief into his hands. He watches her run off and looks at the fabric to see a small dragon embroidered into it: the one she had worked on in the training yard. Cregan looks up and sees her leaving the hall, her exit accompanied by the laughs of Aegon as he finds amusement at his sister’s crush.

The princess would soon forget about her crush on the wolf as other boys appeared in court, though Cregan would not. He would return to Winterfell and place his Sweet Princess’s handkerchief in the drawer of his desk so he could look upon it in times of great stress. His obsession grew over the years as tales of the Greens reached the North. When he requests the hand of his Sweet Princess, he clutches her handkerchief in his hand as he writes, finally seeing his opportunity to take what he wishes.

Oh the backstory we all needed !!! 🥺🥺💚💚

The idea of her sat and watching him train, focusing on the little handkerchief. Alicent had even chuckled, allowing her darling love this..never thinking it would come to anything.

He keeps the handkerchief for his baby boy; gifting it to his son

[usopps-devotee]

Taking a break from our irregularly unscheduled The Bird and the Bunny AU HCs to dump play everyone’s new favorite silly little game —

Would There Be a Wedding?! Tonight’s special guests are: Mihawk! Sanji! Usopp! Buggy! And Crocodile!

Mihawk: Probably not. Besides little niggling things to take into account like (he isn’t close enough with anyone to have witnesses, he doesn’t want anyone fucking up his land, it puts a target on your back). as far as Mihawk is concerned, you’re already married. Think of it as a common law marriage, set by his own rules since you both reside on his own island. After all, you’re one of the very, very few people he tolerates and respects; you both take care of his home and garden; you read together; you cuddle into him, show no fear, make love — if that isn’t a spouse, then he refuses to let any man, piece of paper, or law decide what is for him. You are his, and he is yours. At the very most, if you insist on it, he might prepare a feast for two and acquire a beautiful outfit for you to wear. But that being said, an actual wedding ceremony is just unlikely.

(If Shanks finds out, an actual party winds up happening anyway when the Red Hair crew makes landfall on Kuraigana, bearing wedding gifts, food, and plenty of alcohol.)

Sanji: PLEASE give his boy a wedding PLEASE. He borderlines Groomzilla, he would be so hands-on. But know that it comes from a place of love. Besides being extremely invested in the preparations for the menu (“There’s such thing as a seven course meal?! HOW?!?!”), he wants everything to be symbolic of the two of you coming together: We’re talking symbolic colors, complimentary flavors and dishes, whatever he can conceptualize. There’s honestly a chance there will be multiple ceremonies — one for just you guys and the immediate Strawhat crew, one for the guys back at Baratie, etc. And no matter how many or how few attendees there are, it will always feel like a massive party. Also…if you don’t mind it, he would really, really like to take your surname. You’re his family, after all.

Usopp: He wants a wedding, though honestly he mostly wants to have one to prove himself to you. He knows he’s not the bravest or strongest person out there (hell, he’s not even the bravest or strongest Strawhat). But he wants so desperately to give you the best life you can have as the spouse of a notoriously wanted pirate crew. And while he’s sure finding the One Piece may open so many more doors that could make that happen, he’s not sure he can wait that long. He wants you to know the depths of his love as soon as possible, and no story he tells can truly encapsulate it all. He’s running out of hyperboles and allegories that express to you just how important you are to him! It honestly takes Nami talking some sense into him for him to truly grasp that it’s not the ceremony that counts, but what you’re meant to gather for: To bind your love and lives together. Which, frankly, you’ve already done after so long adventuring together. But just to play it safe…You have a small ceremony thrown by the crew on the ship. Your honeymoon is only one night spent docking on he nearest island, allowing the both of you time to, Ahem, consummate in a hotel. It’s simple. Some might scoff rustic. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Buggy: Buggy would want a wedding for the showmanship and you know it. He’s not so much in for the sentimentality as he is looking for the next hot ticket item. And heaven help everyone if he decides to hold the wedding in a village he’s taken hostage: The villagers, of course, are going to be forced to watch and pretend their tears of horror and frustration are from being happy; the crew is going to be cracked down on to assure a perfect performance; and you’re going to deal with Buggy being a total groomzilla, demanding perfection at any and all corners or else he. Will lose. His shit. And that’s without getting into how he wants to show you off. Honestly, this is one of his driving factors: He will gladly parade you around the main ring, bright lights on you as if to tell the world “Look! See what I could get? ME!! I got them!!” So…yeah honestly, a wedding would be an ego trip for him. (Though if you shut that shit down, he’ll listen. Pout, but listen.) However it’s during the actual exchange of vows that the mask cracks and he might start bawling because wow holy shit, he got YOU. HIM!!

Crocodile: Similar to Mihawk, I don’t think he’s in any rush to have a wedding. He doesn’t necessarily see you through terms of spouse or bedwarmer — you’re simply, well, his. Though I guess if anyone outside the relationship had to say anything, then yeah, for simplicity’s sake, you are Crocodile’s spouse. (I feel like people like Croc or Hawk are so beyond conventions and comfortable with themselves that they simply just decide y’all are married and that’s enough.) That being said, in addition to this, there’s a bit of risk for a man of his position to have something as vulnerable as a ceremony that basically screams two things to the world: That he is capable of tenderness, and that the recipient of that tenderness is you. It puts more targets on the both of you than he feels like dealing with. But if you insist on having a big ceremony and party to celebrate y’all’s union, then… *sigh* It can’t be helped, can it? He could easily protect you, should something go wrong. Hell, he could easily afford the security as an extra precaution. It’ll just be another big party after all. And the cherry on top at least is him asserting to the world that you’re his. You will likely spend the entirety of the reception attached to him in some way: His hand on your hip as you greet guests, perched on his lap as higher-standing/rich guests come to pay their respects and present to you wedding gifts. He won’t admit it but…he kinda likes the vibe.

Yo like I've been trying to come up with something to say about this but it's perfect. What I will add is:

I feel like no one told Shanks, more so you pestered Dracule to at least get you a ring, which tipped him off. You know he loves you, but having the physical ring made you feel better. Black opal for the stone in the ring.

One of the few times where Sanji is the one who has lost his head, and the closer it gets to the ceremony, the worse his attitude is. Poor baby is just so nervous and wants everything to be perfect for you, he wouldn't have anything less for the love of his life. Sapphire and Topaz for the statement gems in the ring.

The crew has been waiting for this moment for what feels like forever. All bets had long been surpassed and everyone is damn near ready to yell at you two to tie the knot. One of the happiest days among the crew. As for the events after the wedding, the happy couple did not return till late in the afternoon. I'm thinking Chrysoberyl; this stone can have a really pretty star cut. That's exactly what he gets; if not, then Simpsonite.

Buggy for sure said he wouldn't cry but there was definitely a tear or two that fell down his cheek before you even took your steps down the aisle. The whole thing feels like a dream for the both of you completely unreal. Parade you around even more now that you're officially his and no one can take him away from you. You thought I would say Ruby, SIKE. Red Berl fuckers and diamonds ofc.

Croc would get on your fucking nerves at first, you overhear him calling you, his spouse. If you like it then you should've put a ring on it, last time you checked there wasn't a ring on your finger. when you confronted him about this, he thought it was just a ploy to get more jewelry, so he just took a ring off his finger and gave it to you. it was placed on his desk as you angrily walked out, that is what got him to realize that he fucked up and you were serious about the ring. Crocodile gives into your whims, giving you the wedding you deserve. Truth be told he's happy he did it, Croc never thought he was the type of man to get married yet here he was. Happy spouse, happy house. flat out asked you what you wanted, this whole thing was more for you and not him. Doesn't matter if it takes him years to get his hand on it, your every wish it his command.

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

APRIL FOOLS, I HAVE A PREVIEW FOR YA!

This is no joke! I have a preview of Part 2 of "Dress Up" for y'all. The prank was that I said previously that I was taking a small break from writing but GET PRANKED cuz here's a sneak peak!

The ~~~ indicate flashbacks!

No active warnings for this part, only slight inferences of sexual things! But don't worry, there will be smut later in the chapter hehe~

"You know, if you don't quit pacing back and forth, you're gonna wear out the carpet," Husk remarked, attempting to get Lucifer's attention in his anxious state.

It had only been a week since the proposal and the wedding was already here. But this is what you both wanted; a nice quiet wedding with only a handful of people with everyone else in Hell being none the wiser. You had to beg Lucifer for the week you got in between, he was practically ready to say "I do" once he put that engagement ring on your hand. It may have seemed like you two were moving a little bit fast considering most weddings take months, sometimes years to plan out! But when you're marrying the King of Hell, there really was next to nothing to worry about when it came to your special day.

The new hotel was the perfect venue, complete with a beautiful ballroom that could rival any chapel on Earth. The guest list was extremely exclusive consisting of only the occupants of the hotel, minus one Radio Demon, not that he would attend even if he was invited. It was Charlie who suggested that he protect the hotel today from any threat that might make itself known. On top of that, Charlie was more than happy to be the officiant, as being the Princess of Hell granted her that authority. Money was no object to the Morningstar family, so no expense was spared.

But regardless of any of that, Lucifer couldn't help but worry. You had one other request for him after he popped the question.

~~~

"I hate to ask more of you after asking for a week to prepare," you started, putting on the last of your clothes that you had discarded during your fun little teasing display, "but..." Lucifer approached you suddenly and held your hand in both of his.

"My love, you can ask of me anything you wish. There is no limit when it comes to you. You've already given me the best gift of becoming my future bride. Anything in my power is yours for the asking, you just name it!" He leaned down and planted a small kiss on the back of your hand. You couldn't help but blush, he never failed to charm you.

"This may sound a little odd, considering what just took place a few minutes ago," you breathed out a sigh, "but...what would you say to refraining from any...intense intimacy?" Lucifer cocked his eyebrow and smirked, seemingly intrigued. "B-but only for this week, I promise! Kissing and cuddling would still be on the table, of course. And no deliberate teasing from me, that wouldn't be fair. I was just thinking that...I want our first night as a married couple to be special. And I figured holding off for the time in between would only heighten the experience. If that's not something you want, I completely understand that-MMPH," you were silenced by Lucifer's soft lips on yours.

"Oh darling, was that all?," he flashed his signature toothy grin at you. "That's hardly a request! I think that's a wonderful idea...n-not that I don't want to ravish you at any given time! But you're right, I couldn't imagine a better honeymoon than getting the chance to feel you again after being denied for a few days, even though it may feel like an eternity. I'll be on my best behavior; you have my word!"

~~~

And Lucifer was on his best behavior, for the most part, at least. There were a few instances where his hands had traveled a little too low on your body and some kisses became deeper than they should have. But both of you managed to make it through the week! But today was the day, and his anxiety was at an all-time high. You decided to sleep in separates rooms the night before, wanting the next time you saw each other to be at the altar. That was the plan, at least.

It had been a while since Lucifer had slept alone. Suffice to say he couldn't sleep. He assured you that he would be alright sleeping alone for just one night, but that ended up being easier said than done. The empty bed he laid in brought back painful memories of his first night without Lilith, something that still haunted him to this day. There would be times where Lucifer would wake up in a cold sweat, only to glance over to see you peacefully asleep, and he could breathe again. Anytime you felt him tug you closer to him in the middle of the night, you knew what had woken him up. He never hid his feelings from you when he confided in you about his ex, and you didn't mind that he would wake you when his nightmares overwhelmed him. You loved him and he loved you. You would never leave. So when you heard your door creek open in the middle of the night to see your fiancé standing in the door frame, you only smiled and gestured him to you.

~~~

"I-I'm sorry," he sobbed quietly, "I tried...I really did...I-"

"Hey, hey, shh, it's alright," you soothed and brought him into a tight embrace. You felt a tear that had fallen from his face make its way down your collarbone. "Don't cry, Luci, I'm not upset, not at all." You lifted his head up to wipe away his remaining tears. "Let's get some sleep. We have a big day tomorrow." You planted a kiss on his forehead, and from the dim red light that shown through your windows, you could see a small smile appear on his face. He laid down, his back facing you as you wrapped your arms around him and brought him flush to your chest. You could hear his breathing start to even about again.

"I don't deserve you," he murmured.

"You know I think the same thing every day," you responded.

He interlaced his fingers with yours at your words, squeezing you hand softly. "Promise me you'll never think that again. Please. You deserve everything and more."

"Alright," you conceded, kissing the back of his head, "as long as you promise me the same thing. You're my everything, and I'll spend the rest of my afterlife showing you that."

"Okay," he spoke weakly. You intertwined your legs with his, bringing yourself as close to him as possible. "I still intend to keep my other promise. I'll be gone before you wake up."

"You can stay as long as you need to," you whispered before drifting off to sleep once more.

~~~

[esther-dot]

MODERN AUs

tis the damn season 5k by @wildflower-daydreamer

Every year, Sansa comes back to her small hometown of Winterfell for Christmas. And each year, she and Jon fall into their old routine for her short stay. This year would be no different. Okay, maybe a little different. Inspired by the song 'tis the damn season by Taylor Swift. corresponding gif

Mistletoe Merriment 4k by @geekprincess26

Theon Greyjoy loves kissing pretty girls, so naturally he loves breaking out the mistletoe and spiked punch every year at the Starks' annual Christmas party. And every year, the girl he kissed the prior year shows up with an awesome new boyfriend - every girl except for Sansa Stark, who ends up with slimy, pathetic gits. Theon will have to go to ridiculous lengths, not to mention risk the legendary wrath of Jon Snow, in order to get Sansa the boyfriend she deserves. But he'll do it, because Theon Greyjoy is a loyal friend - and he'll never let a stupid sprig of mistletoe get the better of him.

When the Grinch Met the Redhead 1k by @yenstarkofrivia

the one where Sansa likes to sing Christmas songs at 3am and Jon is a miserable Grinch

merry and bright 27k by @cellsshapedlikestars

ex-child star Sansa Stark is in desperate need of money and takes a role in a Hallmark Christmas movie, filming in the mountain resort town of Wintertown, Vermont. There, Fire Chief Jon Snow is on set to oversee safety regulations. Sansa hates Christmas and she hates small towns, but a casual fling with a rugged local fireman might be just what she needs.

four 5k by @cellsshapedlikestars (I've reread this fic many times)

She had never put Jon and Christmas together, but now she thinks she'll never be able to separate them. or, four Christmases, three midnight excursions, two angry siblings, and one boy at the center of it all

Be My +1 47k by @vivilove-jonsa

Seven months after she attended a wedding with her brother's work colleague (and gave him a tipsy, unrequited kiss when he walked her to the door), Sansa Stark finds herself in the unenviable situation of desperately needing a date for her prep school reunion at a ski resort which will also be attended by her ex-boyfriend/boss's son, Harry Hardyng and her Former-BFF/Frenemy, Margaery Tyrell.

The Best Christmas Present (Is You) 3k @foreverreadingbeautifulbooks

Every year the Starks and honorary Starks spent the week of Christmas in the most northern of the lodges they owned. No guests were allowed to visit the lodge during that week and it was the one time a year where no one in their family was allowed to work. Everyone hung out, played in the snow, skied, baked, ate lots of food, and simply enjoyed being together. It was refreshing to spend so much time with her family since she felt like she’d barely seen them this last year. But, if Sansa was honest, after five days of hanging out with them nonstop, she’d been looking forward to spending a little bit of time by herself. Every year on Christmas Eve, while her mom and dad picked out the tree, Bran would play chess with their neighbor’s son, Lyanna - who was notorious for buying gifts at the last minute - went shopping, Arya and the rest of the boys would challenge each other to skiing contests, and Sansa would take that opportunity to have her own private holiday celebration indoors. She would warm up some hot chocolate, turn up her Christmas playlist, and snuggle down in some blankets to wrap all of her Christmas presents. But not this year. This year she was stuck with Jon Snow and his broken ankle.

the perfect gift for christmas for me would be 5k

“Be my boyfriend,” Sansa says. Jon's eyebrows raise, and she amends, “My fake boyfriend." or, Sansa, Jon, and fake dating for the winter holidays.

Christmas Carriage Ride 1.5k

Jon Snow has grown tired of his holiday job driving a horse-drawn carriage around the streets of Chicago. Then Sansa shows up, and Jon sees the city through new eyes

#LockedinLovers 8k by @amymel86

the one where Sansa and Jon are locked in a big ol' department store over Christmas because of a convenient snow storm

The Nightmare Before Christmas 3k by @ladysalvatore3

Sansa Stark was far from being perfect; she occasionally forgot to put the lid back on the toothpaste, she was constantly arriving late to places, she didn’t know how to change a tire or had any idea of what path her life was going to take, but there were three things that Sansa was absolutely sure about. She loved to write. Christmas was the best holiday ever. She hated Jon Snow.

'Tis the Damn Season 4k by @justhereforfandomandfriends

Four times Jon doesn’t ask Sansa to stay, and the one time he does. Sansa Stark was sneaking out of her childhood bedroom to sleep in Jon Snow's bed. If you'd told teenage Sansa, she'd have laughed in scorn (but she’d have flushed too). Twenty-nine year old Sansa was almost used to it. By now, it was practically a tradition, and there was nothing Sansa loved more than holiday traditions. corresponding moodboard

when the snow falls and the white wind blows 10k

Sansa Stark and Jon Snow had never been particularly close, but since her brother died and the two moved to the same city they have been spending more time together. Sansa tells herself Jon sees her as the little girl who lived in the house beside his. Jon tells himself Sansa sees him as nothing more than her brother's best friend. But when the two are snowed in on the way back home for Christmas, their thoughts change.

Shamelessly Un-christmas 3k by @jade-masquerade

After Jon denied her a kiss under the mistletoe last Christmas, Sansa tries to make amends.

A Tale of Two Christmases 2k by @jade-masquerade

A Christmas gift mix-up involving a special sweater brings Sansa and Jon together. corresponding fanart by @grrmartin

all i want for christmas is you...to tell everyone we're together 2k by @ben-barnes-is-my-husband

It's Christmas and all Jon wants is for he and Sansa to be public with their relationship.

Who's coming to you tonight? 1k by @kissed-by-circe

“So you want me, me and no one else, to dress up as Nikolaus and bring wee-“ his mind scrambles as he tries to remember the boy’s name, because Arya only uses pet names for him, and he doubts that her sister named her child Woolfling, Dr Snuggles, or Baby-Bear, “wee… Ar- Artos some candy, and tell him that he’s been naughty?” Arya forces Jon to play Nikolaus for her lil nephew, and somehow forgets to mention that singlemom!Sansa is really really hot

Lights 7k by @charmtion

Two years ago, Arya turned up on Jon and Sansa’s doorstep and left after a single, soul-aching conversation. Now they are gathered back together for a Stark family Christmas, where old wounds and new secrets threaten to collide.

Door to Door Delivery 2k by @hilarychuff

A drabble inspired by my While You Were Sleeping (1995). Jon walks Sansa home during a Chicago winter.

The Spirit of Christmas Gifset by @aureliacamargo

All I Want for Christmas Jonsa vid by @aerishe

FOLGERSCEST INSPIRED

(yes, that commercial prompted Jonsa content which makes me laugh so it gets a special shout-out!)

Perks of the Queen 5k by @intothecest

After years in his exile in the Night's Watch, Jon Snow finally answers a summons to Winterfell from his sister, Queen in the North, just in time for a festival. Gifts are exchanged, long-simmering feelings percolate up, and, oh yes, coffee has come to Westeros.

The Best Part of Waking Up 5k @jillypups

After a long stint up in Alaska doing manly things, Jon Snow comes back to the Stark family home where he spent nearly all of his childhood, where he called the Stark kids brother and sister. But things change after a few years go by.

Gifset by @cindy-clawford

OTHER

Light in the Darkest Days of the Year Little Women AU/historical AU 9k by @sibyldisobedience

Winterfell was a handsome old house of modest proportions, that had once seen better days. Its green shutters and gables had faded to a dull grey. Its stone walls could use a new coat of whitewash. And its family, the Starks, had once been counted amongst the most distinguished in Wintertown — a small, sleepy hamlet, just north of the bustling port city of White Harbour, where it was as likely to snow in the summer as not. But despite this dreary description, Winterfell was the happiest little home in the neighbourhood.  Even on the darkest, coldest days of winter, the little grey house radiated warmth and light from its frosted-over windows, like a beacon. 

Fairy Lights and Mistletoe 3k Hogwarts AU, by @maybetwice

Sansa has every intention of going to the Yule Ball with Jon, even though he isn't sure why.

Shine Your Light on Me 2k canon verse @thatgirlnevershutsup

Let's celebrate a Northern holiday with Sansa and Jon! Think about a Hallmark Christmas movie set in Westeros, and you're on the right track.

A Stark Solstice 1.5k canon verse @ritzintherabbithole

It’s only fitting, she thought, that fresh snow should blanket the land around Winterfell today of all days. It is pristine, virgin white snow, seemingly pure, but Sansa know knows the kind of monsters that hide in the cold and her time spent in King’s Landing cured her of any instinct to trust appearances.

A midwinter night's dream 2k canon verse

After the Long Night, Sansa fears winter more than ever. How will her new born daughter survive a winter that might last for years? But magic is gone from Westeros, and soon it becomes clear that every season only lasts for a few moons. Though winters are still brutal, there is always an end in sight. And every year on the darkest day of them all, the Starks in Winterfell have a feast.

Festive Jonsa Edit

Christmas Is Here Gifset and Merry Christmas Gifset by @tiny-little-bird

PRE CANON - WESTERN - FAIRYTALE - REGENCY - LITTLE WOMEN - SEASON SIX - ANNE OF GREEN GABLES - THE GIRL IN GREY - FREE CITIES - FAIRYTALE PART II - POLITICAL MARRIAGE - SALTY TEENS - POST CANON - RICKON LIVES - JON X ALAYNE

[ellegenerico]

Memora

Pairing: Rogue/Gambit

Rating: T

Synopsis: It’s New Year’s Eve and Rogue has a brief reflection of her first married year with Remy. Short, fluffy and sweet.  Author’s Note: My late gift to @rogueemberlight for the Romy fic gift exchange! She had requested a Romy first Christmas fic with traditions but I hope you don’t mind the twist! 😉 It’s been a while so my writing is a little rusty but I sincerely hope you enjoy! ❤️

On the rooftop, Rogue gazed up at the evening sky, her breath escaping in soft puffs of vapor that dissolved into the frigid air. The cold didn’t bother her—she had dressed warmly, anticipating a long stretch of solitude under the stars before the celebrations would begin.

The rooftop of their new apartment offered a quiet retreat, a vantage point to take in the city’s vibrant energy below. The city below was alive, buzzing with energy. The hum of celebration drifting upward—cheers, laughter, and the occasional burst of firecrackers punctuating the night. 

It was New Year’s Eve, and the night where the world seemed caught between the old and the new.

A small smile tugged at her lips as she looked beyond the clouds, past the moon’s pale glow. What a year it had been. A whirlwind. Chaotic. Unpredictable. Rogue let out a quiet chuckle—eventful was putting it lightly.

Rogue had come to realize that Kitty Pryde may inadvertently have had a lot to do with where she and Remy are today. There was that mission. One Kitty had orchestrated. Sending her and Remy to a couples therapy retreat. Of all places. At first, the mere idea had irritated her—therapy? And with him? After everything? Yet, in some odd, messy way, it had worked. They’d unpacked their baggage—and found themselves closer than they’d ever thought possible.

Though she definitely didn’t imagine “getting closer” would involve clones, emotional landmines, and nearly losing their lives and powers in the process. “Classic us,” she mused with a shake of her head. 

And then, it happened.

What had started as a celebration for Kitty and Piotr’s wedding turned into something entirely different. They’d arrived as guests, only to find themselves at the center of a ceremony of their own. In a single, unplanned moment, the day transformed into something neither of them had foreseen—yet it felt undeniably right. 

Remy had proposed to her.

There was no hesitation on her part. It was an immediate yes, regardless of how crazy it may have been. She couldn’t have been happier for it.

Rogue glanced down at her left hand, a soft smile spreading across her face as the glimmer of the band on her ring finger caught the light. What had started as the most spontaneous of decisions had turned into one of the most beautiful, unforgettable moments of her life.

Even their honeymoon, meant to be a quiet escape, had turned into yet another adventure—this time in space, thanks to Kitty once again. “There really is no such thing as uneventful with the LeBeaus,” Rogue mused, the corners of her mouth lifting. Although she was sure that Deadpool crashing it didn’t quite put Remy in the best of moods.

Amid the chaos, however, her powers had spiraled out of control, wild and unpredictable, leaving her uncertain if she’d ever regain command. Insecurity had crept in, familiar and unwelcome. Yet, no matter how turbulent things became, and now matter how much she retreated back into pushing him away, he had never left her side. 

And now here she was, standing on the edge of a year that hadn’t defeated her.

She thought back to all those moments that now brought her on this rooftop. A place where she calls home. It hadn’t been easy—it had stretched her, scarred her, and shaped her—but it had brought her here. To this rooftop. To this home. To him. He’d once told her she was his home, and now she knew the truth of those words. 

“The cats are all settled,” his voice broke through her brief thoughts, “We also can’t forget the champagne,” 

She turned to Remy with a smirk, watching him slip through the rooftop window with effortless grace. “He’s such a cat dad,” she thought, stifling a laugh. But deep down, she couldn’t deny it—she’d come to love Figaro, Oliver, and Lucifer just as much so. “And I’m definitely a cat mom,” she added silently.

Remy emerged fully, his usual trench coat draped over him, though the layers beneath hinted at the chill of the night. In one hand, he balanced two empty flutes and a bottle of champagne, his movements smooth and confident, as if the cold air didn’t dare touch him.

“Wouldn’t want to tempt bad luck, Cajun,” she teased.

Remy handed an empty flute towards her, “Well, good thing we’ve got this extra bottle left over from our wedding, non?”

Her brow arched playfully. “Did the bartenders not notice you swiping that?”

“The bartenders were definitely not looking,” he laughed, popping the cork with a practiced ease. The champagne bubbled into her glass, then his, as he set the bottle carefully on the ground.

“You just couldn’t resist stealing something on our actual wedding day?” she laughed, shaking her head in amused disbelief.

“Can’t let a bottle this good go to waste,” he added with a playful wink, “ ‘sides it’s vintage.”

Rogue shook her head, a playful smile dancing on her lips. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” he quipped without missing a beat, his grin as mischievous as ever.

She shrugged, feigning nonchalance, though the sparkle in her eyes betrayed her, “I do.”

He gave her cheeky smile, before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead as he pulled her into his arms, holding her close.

“Black-eyed peas are done?” she asked, her voice muffled slightly against his chest as she snuggled closer to him.

He nodded, his grin never wavering. “With greens, of course. Gotta cover all our bases.”

Rogue stepped closer, nestling into his side as his arm wrapped around her, the warmth of the moment chasing away the winter chill. “As much as I love traditions,” she murmured, “I have to admit, Remy, I was starting to think they didn’t work.”

He pressed a kiss to her hair, letting his lips linger for a moment. “Didn’t you tell me you skipped your usual traditions last year?”

Her gaze lifted to meet him, a playful glint in her eyes. “Yes, ‘cause I decided to try something new.”

“And what was that?” he asked, his curiosity piqued.

“I ate 12 grapes. Under a table. Bumped my head by accident afterwards. Also left my place a mess ‘cause supposedly it’s bad luck to clean it on New Year’s Day.”

Remy chuckled, his eyes lighting up with amusement. “Ha! And look what that got you—a new husband.”

Rogue grinned, her fingers brushing his cheek. “And a new tradition, sugah.”

“Funny,” he teased, tilting his head with a smirk. “Didn’t see you crawling under a table tonight with your grapes.”

“That's not what I meant,” she shot back, rolling her eyes but failing to suppress the smile tugging at her lips. “And, just so you know, I don’t think I can handle another messy New Year’s Day living space so I cleaned yesterday.”

“Quoi? Already forgetting the mountain of clothes on the floor?” he teased, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes.

She raised a brow, “What mountain of clothes?”

He leaned in with a wink. “I'm talking about the pile of clothes that’ll be on the floor later, chère. If you catch my drift.”

She met his gaze, her grin widening. “Well... I did say something about starting a new tradition.”

Before Remy could fire back another playful remark, the crowd below erupted in excitement, their voices rising in a jubilant wave. The countdown began, each number echoing through the crisp night air. Smiling, Rogue and Remy began to join in, their anticipation growing with every beat, their shared energy crackling like the fireworks soon to come.

“THREE!”

“TWO!”

“ONE!”

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!”

They raised their glasses, the soft clink of crystal marking the start of something new.

A whole new year. 

After taking a slow sip of their champagne, Remy turned to Rogue, his gaze soft but full of meaning. With a gentle touch, he reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary to caress her cheek. Rogue’s hand instinctively rose to meet his, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver through her. She softened beneath his gaze, her heart racing as she leaned in, their lips meeting in a kiss that was both tender and slow, carrying the unspoken promises of everything yet to come—and the weight of everything they’d already survived together.

Rogue leaned in close, her breath warm against Remy’s ear as she whispered huskily, “How about we see fireworks somewhere else, Cajun?” Her lips curled into a teasing smile, her fingers curling around his with a gentle pull.

Remy’s grin deepened, his heart racing at the promise in her voice. Without a word, he let her lead him back inside, the world around them fading into the background.

Above them, fireworks burst into vibrant blooms, painting the night sky with streaks of color. And neither of them looked up. For their focus remained solely on each other, celebrating the long and winding journey that had led them to finally find their way back home to each other.

—END—

[tabbywaslost]

Maybe killermare fluff headcanons?

Of course!!

1.

Killer sometimes uses Nightmare's tentacles as monkey bars or as slides when he is bored.

2.

Whenever Nightmare reads a book, Killer sits besides him trying to catch up to him reading because Nightmare can read REAL fast and Killer hates books but loves Nightmare.

3.

They are always sitting besides each other in all gatherings and everything. If the place is crowded, they will not leave each other's side no matter what happens.

4.

MY OWN MULTIVERSE!

They became a couple after The Fallen Star Sanses era. During that era, everyone helped each other out but Killer was different from everyone else when it came to Nightmare. Since Nightmare turned back into his passive form, he was powerless but Killer sorta became his personal guard and literally didn't leave Nightmare in any way possible and even got severely injured and almost killed while protecting Nightmare but he didn't stop. And Nightmare just realized that that man would actually do anything for him no matter what. He realized that Killer would even sacrifice himself for him. And also, Killer was able to get away with constantly flirting with Nightmare without having to run away before he gets a good verbal punishment because Nightmare had stopped physically punishing them by then.

5.

Their wedding was somewhat themed. It had references to their fav movies and fav books, and they requested that everybody wear silver or grey colors to their wedding because Killer was gonna wear black and Nightmare was gonna wear white. The best man at Killer's side was Color and the best man and Nightmare's side was Dream. Dream took the microphone for a long time though and started going on and on about his fun memories as a kid with Nightmare, how he wishes them happiness, and a lot, lot more. He was talking for nearly 2 hours until Cross pulled him aside. He continued talking to all the guests after the ceremony and nobody really complained, they were all happy to see him so hyped up at his brother's wedding.

6.

Nightmare took a sewing course from Error and made Killer a new jacket. Killer absolutely treasures that jacket more than he treasures his own life and only wears it on special occasions, absolutely REFUSING to wear it on missions because it could be harmed.

7.

When they first got together, Nightmare decided to keep it secret due to him not knowing how to tell the others yet. Some figured it out and some were in denial upon figuring out but nonetheless, everybody knew so there was no need to announce it and so they didn't announce it and just kept it as is.

8.

Since Nightmare has no prior relationship experience and is somewhat clueless on what to do when it comes to a relationship so Killer takes lead and does most of the relationship stuff. Nightmare sometimes takes inspiration from some of the characters in the books he reads and says some insanely affectionate stuff but gets INSANELY flustered upon hearing and "I love you" from Killer. Nightmare showers Killer with all sorts of gifts too.

9.

Nightmare and Killer have a small game that they play where they get an empty journal that's about 60-80 pages and they pick out characters names and places, then Nightmare writes on the first page and Killer writes on the next without knowing what Nightmare has written. The only information Nightmare gives him is what characters are in the previous page and where they are and Killer has to go off of that and write page 2, then it's Nightmare's turn for page 3, etc. And when they finish it, they sit down and read the absolute monstrosity that they wrote and laugh their heads off because the characters can be fighting to death in one page and kissing in the next.

10.

On nights where one of them can't sleep, he'll wake up the other and they'll just have long conversations about everything. Good memories, bad memories, conspiracy theories, gossip, etc.

I'm so sorry this is late, I was very busy and burnt out. My apologies!!

[haesunflower]

written in the stars | zhang hao royalty au

☆ chapter 2 here ☆

genre: angst, romance

pairing: reader (afab) x zhang hao

about/tags: in which zhang hao is a crown prince, and you are not the princess he's arranged to marry (1.9k words)

royalty au, arranged marriage (not to reader), love at first sight, i'm in a bridgerton mood that's why i wrote this

The palace is buzzing, and you’ve never seen it so busy. The servants seem to multiply as they make haste with the preparations. All the curtains have been drawn back, and the palace gleams in natural sunlight. The hallways smell of fresh flowers, and the floors are newly polished; you can almost see your reflection. Faintly, you can hear the footmen yelling, signaling the arrival of the royal heir of the neighboring country.  

While they were only arriving on a formality, these occasions are naturally celebrated extravagantly. No expense spared in public appearances, dinner parties, and tournaments. After all, it is only once where a soon-to-be-king is able to visit the home of his queen-to-be. Then, she is whisked away from her roots, to start a new life elsewhere. 

How wonderful, a royal wedding is to take place soon.

But not yours. 

Despite what people may think, you enjoy not being the eldest daughter of the family. You didn’t get all the attention from male suitors in soirees, you weren’t gifted the finest jewels, nor were you surrounded by a flock of ladies at all times. It’s liberating, you think. 

Your sister didn’t even have much of a say when it came to her marriage preparations. With the diligence of a dutiful princess, she complied and obliged to the plans of your parents. You couldn’t imagine living a life like that, being told that a certain path was your destiny. You certainly did not envy the life of the eldest princess. 

You contemplate moving from your spot to greet the esteemed guest, but it is decided for you when a butterfly lands on your shoulder. You gently place your finger near its legs, hoping it will latch on for you to get a closer look. Instead, it flutters away.

Curiosity gets the best of you and you follow it – all the way to the edge of the garden. 

To your surprise, it lands on the shoulder of a man. All you know of him is that he’s dressed in a cream ensemble. Engrossed in his conversation with your father, he clearly doesn’t notice the delicate creature on his shoulder. 

“Ah y/n darling, you’re here. Say hello to his highness” your father, who probably spots you staring, introduces you to the man. 

You curtsy, “good afternoon, your grace. Welcome to Astoria” 

Returning the greeting, he bows gently, then takes your hand where he places a small kiss from his lips. While a traditional greeting amongst royals, it was an act you weren’t used to receiving. When you both look up and meet his eyes for the first time, you’re suddenly met with jealousy – “a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, princess”

And for the first time in your life, you wish you were your sister. 

—--⋆⋆☆⋆⋆—-

When you show him around your palace, as your father instructed, he greets your staff warmly. He asks you questions about your people, your customs, and your culture. He listens intently, watching you greatly elaborate about the place you call home. While you  talk his ear off, he takes slow strides to also appreciate the art, the flowers, and the instruments that play the most beautiful melodies. When you near the quartet, he  fixates specifically on the violin, watching it be played with such admiration. 

“Do you fancy the violin, your grace?” you ask. 

“I find it the most beautiful, do you not? An extremely difficult instrument to learn, but when mastered, elicits music fit for the angels.” 

He thanks the violinist and commends him for his talent, before you both continue with the palace tour. 

Sensitive, gentle, and kind – Prince Zhang Hao is every bit the person that is perfect to rule a kingdom.

—--⋆⋆☆⋆⋆—-

At dinnertime, you try to focus on your meal. Instead, you watch the prince enjoy the company of your sister. They’re both smiling as they engage in small conversation, you can’t tell what it’s about, but he looks charmed. As they all always are, you think.  

When you turn your attention elsewhere, Hao finds himself looking at you. In a brief moment of distraction, he watched you bring the wine to your lips, slightly staining it a deep burgundy. 

—--⋆⋆☆⋆⋆—-

It’s a bright summer afternoon, and the light from outside refracts beautifully against the stained glass windows. Being trained in arts, music, and sciences – your favorite place in the whole world had to be the royal library. So you find yourself here often, reading a book, studying maps of the stars, or much like today, practicing the violin. 

When you finish the song, you hear applause, and you’re shocked to see the prince. “I didn’t take you for a violinist, princess”. His body leaning against one of the bookshelves, arms crossed against his chest. Without the prying eyes of the servants, nor the pressures of royals, he seems relaxed. 

You gently place the violin back in its case, and look over your shoulder. “Am I good enough to elicit music fit for angels, you reckon?” He smiles, remembering the comment he made a few days before. 

“I wouldn’t have applauded you if you weren’t, I’m quite an honest man you know.” You chuckle, “and indeed you are, your grace.” 

“You can just call me Hao.” 

And while you are taken aback, you humor him anyway. “Okay, Hao – may I ask why you’re holed up here with me at the royal library? Shouldn’t you be with her royal highness today to greet the public?”

“Your sister is currently busy meeting the designer for her gown, so I decided to find something else to keep me occupied.” he walks nearer to you, hands behind his back. 

Boldly, you respond with “well, you have the pleasure of my company now”. He comes face to face with you when he says:

“Indeed I do, princess y/n.”

—--⋆⋆☆⋆⋆—-

Over the next few weeks, Hao has joined you at the library in the early mornings. While the rest of his day is spent fulfilling the duties of a visiting prince, the start of his day is reserved for you.

You get to know each other better through the study of geography, as he tells you about the places he’s visited on your maps. You tell him how certain stars align to form different constellations, and how the night sky might have been decorated differently on your birthdays. You learn that he speaks multiple languages, after he helps you transcribe the ancient texts from the east. 

He speaks gently, yet with conviction. He smiles softly when you call his name, and approaches you in a gentle manner. He is also patient, when you are slow to understand him. He looks into your eyes intently while you tell stories, and you feel that his gaze might burn holes into your existence. His touch, gentle, when he guides you on the piano. And when challenged by you, plays the violin equally as beautifully. 

Among other thoughts, you’re happy to know your sister will marry a good man. 

“I have to go now, princess. I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

You smile at him warmly, “like always, Hao.”

—--⋆⋆☆⋆⋆—-

But he didn't arrive the next day, nor any day after that. Instead, his time has been given to your sister, who has requested to have morning tea with him daily. You don’t fault him, it’s his duty as a fiance. And perhaps time away from him is good. 

So when you find him gazing out at the same balcony of the library, you are surprised. 

“Y/N, what do the stars say tonight?” you look up at the sky, and then at him. He’s leaning against the railing, propped up against his elbows. Facing you, you fear that his height will cause him to fall backwards.

“Difficult to say with all the clouds, there barely are any.” As if to confirm your analysis, he too looks up at the sky. 

“So what brings you here, hao?” you ask as you make your way over next to him. You look up once again, hoping to find what he is looking for. 

“I wanted to spend my last night here to gaze at the Astoria stars you tell me about.” Right. His last day here. You don’t know when he’ll return, and if they will at all. But tomorrow he leaves with your sister to his country, Mariposa. The next time you see him will be at his wedding. 

“It’s a shame, maybe you should visit more often then”. You huff out, half jokingly because you know that’ll never happen.

“Yeah, maybe I should…” Hao trails off and watches you turn around to lean toward the balcony instead. Your face is resting on your hand, and you’re looking out into the garden hoping to be graced by the illumination of the fireflies. The moonlight hits your face, and hao studies the way your eyelashes flutter and how your breathing rises and falls. 

You can feel him staring. "You need to stop doing that, Hao"

"And what am I doing?" you look at him, and you don’t know if he’s feigning innocence or is completely ignorant. His eyebrows are raised, and you suppose it’s the former when he raises his hands up in surrender jokingly. 

Your face breaks into a smile, then a giggle. He likes the way your lips pull into a tight line before it gives up, and you convulse into laughter. He thinks it’s cute, the way you try to hold it in at first.  

So he too, feels the need to hold you responsible when he says  "and you princess, need to stop smiling at me like that”

Your smile falters, and then he clears his throat. You both break away from your gaze, and look straight ahead. Into the garden, where the fireflies are starting to show themselves. But the air is so silent, you can hear your own heartbeat. 

Then Hao asks a dangerous question, “do you think that would be so terrible? to look at you the way I do, and to enjoy the allure of your smile?”. He looks at you expectantly, hoping you understand what he feels for you with that question alone.

"Would that be so terrible?" you repeat his words, also questioning yourself. You want to think it over, but you know the answer. “Yes, yes it would hao. Because you are betrothed to my sister.”

The silence of the air is this time, welcome. 

Seemingly unafraid, he asks another question – “do you think maybe this is what is written in the stars for us? To be condemned by duty?” he doesn't need to expound for you to understand what he means. 

You sigh sadly, “it appears to be that way…your grace.” He feels the boundary that you’ve effectively placed. The use of the royal title, a reminder of why he has come to Astoria in the first place. 

You don’t look at him as you say goodbye to him one last time. You walk away from the ledge, and as he grabs your wrist to hold you from leaving, you try to release it. 

“Let’s not, your grace. It’s easier this way. Please.” His heart shatters at your words. So he lets you leave. He doesn’t know that there are tears running from your eyes, and that you fear you’ll change your mind if you take one look at his face. 

That night as he lay in bed he cursed his birth order, and so did you. 

—--⋆⋆☆⋆⋆—-

As you watch them leave the following morning by the steps of the palace entrance, the same butterfly makes its way to you. It lands on your glove, and as you raise your arm to take a closer look – it flies away, towards the prince’s carriage.

You don’t follow it this time. 

—--⋆⋆☆⋆⋆—-

✩ chapter 2, chapter 3✩

A/N: First of all, I wanna apologize to anon because there is no fluff ending shfbhsbfj I just feel like it didn't fit the royalty vibe

This is also my first take on a non-idol universe! Hope you guys liked it and i'm hoping to hear what you guys think hehe

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