#charlotte i was truly gagged

[kissvamps]

the shock when i was watching black clover and charlotte (the literal captain of the lesbian magic knight squad) was competing with another woman to (indirectly) claim yami…..let a bitch be gay!!

[fanaticsnail]

I Don't Want To Hurt You

Masterlist Here, Pollen Masterlist Here

Word count: 3,900+

Synopsis: You have been married to Charlotte Katakuri for five years, and not once has he engaged with you intimately. You had not even seen his face without the shroud of fur atop it. In desperation for grandchildren from the minister of flour, his mother drugs him with a powerful aphrodesiac. The only cure is to give in to his desires and finally claim you as his spouse.

Warnings: Katakuri x f!reader, husband x wife, some gendered terms used, dub con, pollen trope, forced to engage in intimacy, mutual pining, interfering mother in law, NSFW, 18+, MDNI, Katakuri loves you, he doesn't want to hurt you, size difference, swearing, mentions of pregnancy.

Notes: Getting this out of my head and added him to the pollen list. He needed it, I think.

Tag list: @sordidmusings @nerium-lil @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @indydonuts @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @carrotsunshine @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @sunnyferr

The desperation and neediness in his rough huffs and pants of breath were too much for him to bear. His body gave in, finally feeling the incessant need to release his steely cock from the confines of his leather pants the moment he stepped into the safety of his private room. Unbuckling his belt, his pants pooled at his ankles and his right hand immediately flew to his cock. 

He pulled his furred covering further up his face to muffle the wanton moans and feral growls from escaping his lips and painting the atmosphere with his desires. Gripping his cock in a vice-like fist, he began to piston his hand and brace his back against the wall behind him. The need for relief in release overcame him, and he chased his high harder and faster in his palm. 

Charlotte Katakuri knew his mother wanted grandchildren from him. She married him off to the first willing bride the moment they came of age. He had been with you for almost five years now, and he found you to be the most beautiful creature he had ever set his eyes on. A perfect match for him, and truly the best partner he could ever find in another. 

Although he was attracted to you physically, he never once allowed his body to enter yours due to the incredibly large size difference between you. As he thought of you romantically and dotingly, he never once in all that time thought you ever felt the same way for him. 

The union between the two of you remained unconsummated, much to the chagrin of his interfering mother. She consistently ordered him to get you pregnant, to make her more hulking crewmembers and swell her family to a larger number. But he never did. He outright refused. 

He couldn’t do that to you.

You were intelligent, charismatic, kind, and innocent compared to him. He had to claw tooth and nail for the respect he now had, his bestial face was the cause of fear for so many. He was yet to display his lips and teeth to you in the assumption you may feel similar to the others he had allowed to view him prior. He was a beast, and he refused to permit you to see him as such.

Katakuri clapped his hand over the shroud and jammed the material into his lips as a makeshift gag to prevent the muffled moans from expelling themselves further. His hips began to rut into his palm as he stood with his back against the locked door. He clamped his eyes tightly shut, feeling his approach towards ecstasy slowly slipping from his sight the moment he tasted it on the tip of his tongue. 

He whined, desperately chasing it harder and faster in bucking his hips into his fist. “No, no, no, no,” his muffled whisper desperately panted. His breathing hitched, his brows furrowing as his pearlescent precum was the only spill he felt in a twitch against his fingers. 

“Why-...?” He stuttered, his eyes reopening and searching for a rhyme or reason he couldn't spill his seed into his hand like the other times he felt these urges come over him. “Why can't I-...?” Eyes trailing down to his fur scarf and noticing a soft sheen of the finest dust he had ever seen coating the strands of hair. 

He roared in rage, immediately thrusting the material away from his lips across the room with a great force. He gnashed his teeth, drool beginning to coat his lips with the fury he felt at this cruel invasion of his privacy. 

Charlotte Linlin had finally done it. She had crossed that boundary to force him to disrespect and ravage his spouse. This was the only cure for this disgusting invasion of his senses, now encumbered by dust from the pollen aphrodisiac. His need to respect you, and ensure you had no reason to fear him, was far greater than these urges he felt now, and he was certain he could be rid of it without aid. 

His mother had done something similar to her lovers in the past, drugging them so they would be desperate to perform the task of making Katakuri an army of full blooded and half siblings. He never thought she would turn this on her own son, an oversight he was making up for now.

He needed to be rid of it without assistance. He didn't want to hurt you, frighten you, or cause you harm with his larger body tearing apart your smaller one. His desperation came out in the form of a suppressed, needy roar as he felt his cock throb in his hand. 

“Not like this,” he whispered, bracing himself against the door by clawing the panels. He stumbled towards the ensuite bathroom, shaking hand continuing to brace himself against each surface as he continued to thrust his fist firmly down his veiny shaft and stampede his release towards finality. 

“I can't do this to you,” he whimpered, his hand finding the copper taps and turning on the liquid to fill the bath. “I won't do this to you.” He immediately stepped into the bath, his pupils remaining fully dilated and influenced by the dust within his respiratory system and bloodstream. 

Sitting beside your sister in law, you lulled your head to the side and arched your brows up at the rows of tiles spaced out in front of you. Nine by four, and face down on the doilies margining the tea table, you rolled two dice to determine who gathers the spare tile to begin your little game. 

“I got a four,” you shrug, looking at Brûlée's dice. “Oh, you win with that five!” you smile at her, offering her the single, vacant tile to begin the mahjong game. She returned your smile, selecting a random starting point and sliding down the carved tiles. 

As your game continued, you all managed to get several numbers you needed from one to nine. The sheer number of times you played this game with Brûlée made for speed in completion. She was as fast as you, both swapping numbers and tiles as you needed it to order them. 

After you managed to complete the game for the umpteenth time today, she offered you her large hand to shake in mutual celebration of winning your games. Wrapping your fingers around her index finger and giving it a soft shake, she offered you a genuine smile and a curious gaze. 

“What's that look for, my favorite sister in law?” you asked her, your own curiosity marking your features. She sucked her lips in, darting her eyes between yours and silently assessing you before speaking. 

“I have a confession to make, my beautiful sister in law,” she muttered in her cackling cadence. You sat back in your seat and silently examined her posture in response with a curious glance. 

“I'm not a priest,” you shrug with a soft smile, “There's no need to confess anything to me.” She laughs in response, shaking her head and beginning to pack up your joint games into a hessian bag. 

She gulped back a sheepish mouthful of saliva before turning her attention back to you. Her temples were beading with soft droplets of nervous sweat, her lips chapped and injured from how hard she was biting on them, and her eyes darting between yours as she asked her question. 

“Are you in love with my brother?” she asked you with a subtle underlying question masked beneath her words. You sighed, closing your eyes as you focussed on finding the right words to respond. 

“I have been married to your brother for over five years,” you nodded with your eyes reopening, looking at the table ahead and sighing out further, “I want-...” you look up into her eyes and hold nothing but truth and honesty in your expression, “...I want nothing more than to love him. I want him to love me.” You shake your head, looking back to the floor and kicking your toes.

“Your mother has been pestering me, insistent that we make her grandchildren immediately, but,” you suck in a lengthy, shaken breath and look up at Brûlée, “We have yet to share a single touch, let alone a night together in unity. He thinks he’ll break me, I’m sure.” Brûlée offers you a soft smile, reaching forward one of her larger hands and grimacing immediately thereafter.

“Ah, that’s where my confession comes in,” she cringes, looking at where her hand descended upon your shoulder, “My mother has taken matters into her own hands to give him another push. She, uh…” Brûlée gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze before admitting to you the seriousness of the situation, “...She drugged him.”

“She what?” you ask, flinching away from your sister in law and stare at her with eyes wide in shock.

“She laced his shroud with an aphrodisiac, and a potent one at that,” she confessed with a soft nod, “As you are my favorite sister in law, I thought it was only fair to warn you of the severity of what’s waiting for you when you return to your marriage suite.” 

Your blood ran cold, mind racing with the remainder of the severity in circumstances awaiting you beyond the door. Still hearing the echo in Brûlée’s voice, you reached for the doorknob with a shaky hand and quivering lip.

“He’s going to be unhinged, consumed with lust,” her voice rang in your mind, “He will likely attempt to ravish you as soon as he sees you, lacking any semblance of restraint or self-control.” You made a mental note to thank Brûlée later for her honesty, but your mind remained swirling with the knowledge that your husband is likely going to hurt you. 

“When you see his face,” your hand turned the doorknob, slowly creaking the door open inwards to your joint suite, “Try not to scream. He-... He’s self-conscious about his mouth.” You slowly stepped into the room, preparing yourself to be immediately met with your husband’s sizable hands and gripped tightly. 

Yet nothing happened.

Nothing but a soft hummed whimper from beyond the bathroom door was met with you as you slowly made your way in. Water splashing in rhythmic bursts and a rumble of a frantic, stifled roar was muffled between the clamped jaw of the man you had come to love. 

The bathroom door was left slightly ajar, the steam from the bath was exiting the space in a soft puff. Your curiosity was tingling at the corners of your mind and shooting down your spine. 

“The only way he can be cured is by-...” you heard Brûlée’s choked confession in your mind, your body urging you to witness what was behind the door. Offering a simple knock, a barked growl came in the form of a rumbled exhale in response. 

“Leave,” he spat, the splashing never ceasing and his pants growing more desperate, “Leave me. I-I can-... ngghmm-... I can handle it.” You refused to heed his command, pushing past the door and witnessing the majesty of your seventeen foot husband sitting in the golden spa in the bathroom.

His brow was creased, his eyes scrunched shut in concentration, his lips parted and huffing out pants of pleasure, and his fist thrusting beneath the murky water and shaking the suds from his forearm with each crude motion. A blush immediately rose to your cheeks as you continued watching him from your position in the doorway. 

As you began to move closer, his eyes opened and his feral stare snapped over to you. Jaw opening and closing, his pupils dilating to eclipse that chocolate-brown hue you adored so much, and his hips rocking to meet his arm beneath the water. 

“Please leave,” he begged, imploring you to leave the room for your own safety with wide eyes, “I can’t do this to you. I won’t.” He whimpered, his jaw protruding as he bit back his wanton desire to fill you with his girthy cock. 

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. His jaw began to shake and quiver, pointed teeth chattering as he desperately bit at his lips to stifle his desperation. You hesitated slightly, rocking on your feet before hardening your resolve.

“...Giving in,” Brûlée’s voice echoed in your mind. Looking down at your husband in the soapy bathtub, you were overcome with admiration and love. There was nothing to fear in his lips, reflecting on Brûlée’s earlier sentiment of warning. He was perfect to you, and five years of longing finally began to catch up with you. 

Stepping closer still, he flinched away with eyes wide and somberly pleading for you to not tempt him further. He was large, and you were of average standing and stature for a person of your size. In fear of harming you, he reached his hand down onto his thigh and dug his nails into the flesh while pumping his cock. 

“You need to give in,” you offer him with a calmness to satiate the beastly form of your husband, “Give in to me.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he growled at you, scrunching his eyes shut in a bid to ignore what his body was so desperately screaming at him to enact. Shaking your head, you pressed on in your journey over to him.

“I want you to,” You drew yourself closer still, rolling the straps of your dress over your shoulders and flinging it to the side. Your lingerie was the next to pool at your feet, leaving you bare as you began to step into the water. 

Without further warning, Charlotte Katakuri thrust himself forward and caged his head between your thighs. You shrieked in shock as he held your lower back firmly within a single, hot hand while his other busied itself against his steely shaft. He leaned back against the wall of the spa and took your body with him on his descent. 

Parting his lips and releasing his tongue from his mouth, he began lapping at your glistening core with gentle moans and whimpers escaping from his chest in a desperate pant. His tongue shot tingles up your spine with each crude lap.

The length and width of his tongue was far greater than your slit, his organ reaching all of the places that had your toes curling at once. He rocked your hips against his lengthy tongue, groaning as your pussy began to drip onto his salivating organ with your unbridled lust depicted in your slick arousal.

Your hands shot down to his plum-colored hair and gripped him as you felt the call of ecstasy approaching almost immediately from his skilled ministrations. Mewls and whimpers flinging into the air, your shock never ceases and only grows as the sparks of release fizz within your core.

“Oh-... f-fuck-... I’m gonna-...” you began, failing to find the words as Katakuri growled against your contracting pussy. The vibrations fog your mind as your body ignites in tingling ecstasy. White flashes behind your eyes as your jaw falls slack in reaction to the bliss. 

Katakuri never ceases grinding you down against his open mouth, his tongue greedily lapping at you and prolonging your orgasm to shaky overstimulation. You desperately attempt to pull his face away, but he shakes his head with a barking growl and continues on bullying you with his mouth. 

Your toes tingle, legs shaking as you use all your strength to attempt to draw his head away from your pussy to no avail. You whimper and whine, beginning to sob as he greedily laps at your pussy: gyrating your hips in a harsh rock and thighs grinding against his cheeks. He never tore his eyes away from you, the feral beast lurking beneath his skin preventing him from being the chivalrous and doting partner you once knew.

He had you in his clutches, and there was no way he was going to give up this opportunity to bring you pleasure. His carnal desires had his eyes rolling in his head as he continued to feel the rapid flutter of your walls and twitch of your overstimulated clit warning him of your secondary wave of bliss. 

“Ka-... Katakuri, s-stop,” you whined, your knees squeezed his larger head between your thighs and you attempted to wriggle away from his greedy tongue, “Katakuri, I-I’m gonna c-cum again!” The intensity of the waves you were being ushered through heightened as a gush of your arousal flooded Katakuri’s tongue and mouth. 

Another explosion of ecstasy was paved by the skilled lulling and lapping of Katakuri’s lips and tongue. The ribbed indents of his teeth rolling against your fluttering walls as you rode his face felt unlike anything you had experienced with another. He took your fluttering walls contracting around nothing as consent to enter you with it, your heat coaxing and beckoning him to finally give in to his urges.

Finally lifting you from his head, he breathily panted as he opened and closed his tingling jaw. Rolling his tongue over his teeth, he sampled the arousal of your pussy on his palate and hummed in response. Lowering you into the water, you felt the blunt tip of his larger cock brush with your slit. The slickened release of two orgasms was still not enough to ease his cock inside your smaller body. 

“Are you cer-... f-fuck-... Certain you want to do this?” he gritted his teeth in a steely clamp and hissed at you, lining his cock up with you by circling it with his fist beneath the water. “I don’t want to do this to you. Not like this.” He slowly inched you further onto his cock, your body stretching to accommodate his width. The sting around your walls prompted you to wince, but you refused to deny him. 

“I want you to,” you softened your face, attempting to relax your body, “I want you.” Your confession had Katakuri’s eyes hanging half-lidded and his teeth chattering. 

“I’ve-...” he groaned, hissing out your name as he felt the first twitch of your body finally widen enough for his broad tip to enter you, “...I've wanted you the moment I first saw you. The moment you agreed to this union.” He whimpered, bringing his other hand up to cradle your shoulders and thumb soft, soothing circles into your skin. 

A soft sniffle fell from your nose in reaction to his confession, both of you silently cursing your mother in law for dousing him like this with the aphrodisiac. Katakuri finally felt your body stretch enough to completely take his aching knob within you, your body claiming the ribbed edge within your walls. He huffed out his gratitude, almost immediately spilling over his release the moment he felt the warmth of your heat take him in. 

“It will all be over soon,” Katakuri confessed to you with a somber expression on his face, “Em-... fuck-... Embarrassingly soon.” You gently reached up and caressed his cheeks in your hands. Darting your eyes between his, your eyes swelled with emotion as he sunk more of himself into you. 

“There is-... ah-... nothing to be embarrassed about, my love,” you whimpered, your brows furrowing as you took more of him into you. Only managing to sink a third of his cock within you, he slowly raised you up with one hand before sinking you back down. You had never felt more full in your life, your body stuffed beyond your maximum capacity by his quivering shaft. 

“I-I’m g-gonna cum,” he confessed in a husky growl, sleeving as much of himself within you as you could take. “I-I’m cumming. I’m-...hhah-... I’m cumming.” His motions became more feral, more beastly as he chased his high in your body. You winced while mewling a few cries, feeling his blunt tip almost break past the barrier of your cervix and breach your womb. 

To stifle your cry, you lunged forward and claimed his lips in a desperate and searing kiss. His eyes grow wide in shock, immediately exploding his sticky release deep within your body beneath the bathwater. Ribbons of his pearlescent release spurted from his small slit and hit you with such force internally it left you breathless. 

He removed his hand from your shoulder, joining the other on your hips and bucked up into you. Focussing on your lips, he closed his eyes and groaned his relief into your lips. Coasting through the waves of ecstasy, he continued a staggered staccato of rhythmic bucks in shallow thrusts. 

The slosh of water spilled over the sides of the bath and splashed onto the floor around you. You rotated your chin, mouthing at his lips and attempting to relay onto him the emotions you had suppressed for so long. With his cock still sheathed within you, he focussed entirely on your lips with his own. 

His kiss was soft and gentle, his teeth unintentionally grazing your skin with each soft turn and tip of his lips. As you attempted to withdraw from his lips, he chased you and groaned at the absence. 

“One more,” he mumbled, his chest rising from the water and lips falling against yours, “Just one more.” You giggled against his lips, granting him a lengthier and more desperate kiss. The force of your faces colliding had your nose scrunch affectionately against his own. His lips smiled against you, humming dopily and breathily against your lips. 

Twin smiles reflected in each other’s lips, finally feeling the unity between you both as spouses. He slowly retracted his cock from your walls, continuing to move his lips dotingly against your own in an apologetic oscillation. You whined into his lips, your heart jumping to your chest with how much you truly loved him.

You attempted to pull away from his lips to gaze into your lover’s face, only for him to purr a soft growl of disapproval from the partition once more. He pecked your lips with a soft kiss to stamp you with his affection before allowing you to finally part from him.

He stroked your hair, his eyelids dancing with a soft flutter of his eyelashes. His expression was a combination of true sorrow and repentance. Feeling the remnants of the pollen finally flee from his system and have his true nature return to him had his regrets showcased on his features.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he whispered carefully, “Not like that. I could’ve broken you, or something more sinister.” He tilted his chin away and broke his eye contact from your face.

“But you didn’t,” you whisper, collecting his cheek in your palm and gently coaxing his face back to meet yours. He turns his head and gazes apologetically into your eyes and pressed his lips to your palm.

“Forgive me,” he asked in a voice just above a whisper, closing his eyes and leaning forward to brush his forehead with yours. You meet his head and close your own eyes shut in response. 

“There is nothing to forgive, my love,” you whisper in a similar cadence before quirking up your eyebrow at him, “Unless what you’re apologizing for is not claiming me sooner,” you pull away and smirk at him with a mischievous grin, “In which case, I don’t think I can forgive you for that.” Katakuri froze, his body tingling at your confession.

“Then please tell me what I can do to make up for my maltreatment of your needs,” he smiled with half-lidded lashes and leaned up in your embrace, “I am desperate to know,” You leaned down, your chest now lining up with his chin from your position on his lap, while your eyes held more sultry mischief within.

“I can think of a few things,” you whisper affectionately down at him, “But I think I might need a little time to recover before we begin your apology from being properly received.” A soft rumble reverberated in Katakuri’s chest, swelling into a growl in his smile. 

“I will spend the rest of my days making it up to you,” he whispered in response before collecting your lips beneath his in another soft kiss.

[daughterofyore]

hiii !! loved your george post your writing absolutely amazing.. i was wondering if you could write about george and readers honeymoon or george fucking reader on even days (intense smut and angst i beg)

thank you anon who I definitely don’t know- ;) I’ll do two different stories for you, one for the honeymoon and one for even days :)

Honey Sweet.

King George x f!reader

[[Queen Charlotte (netflix)]]

category; heavy smut, fluff

wc; 2,783

a/n; You and King George have been friends for years, playfully teasing each other and sneaking improper meetings with each other. You marry and your honeymoon is very, very spicy. The naughtiness you both tried to tame flares.

!!W!!;; nsfw, light bondage, virgin, degradation, praise kink, lowk rough sex, gagging, breeding kink

The wedding had been a grand affair. Lavish, sprayed in the finest jewels and freshest flowers. All those of importance in attendance. Anyone who was someone sat along the gallery and watched as you walked up the aisle. Your train felt miles long, the skirts of your wedding dress billowed around you as you traveled up the aisle. You could see him, standing at the altar. Your first time seeing him since your secret rendezvous in the garden. He looked, spectacular. You admired him, devilish smile grinning down at you. You swore his eyes were glazed as he watched you approach.

When you finally stepped onto the altar he took your hands in his, he whispered a gentle “You’re beautiful.” Before turning to face the Bishop. The pair hearing the bishops words but not really listening. The tension between the pair of you was palpable. You watched him in your peripheral, a smile creeping onto the corners of his lips. A man of mischief, it seemed.

“I now proclaim you man and wife, King and Queen of the United Kingdom’s.” The bishop smiled, looking between the pair of you as you both turned to face each other. “You may kiss your Queen, sire.” George smiled down at you, grinning from ear to ear. How lucky were you to marry the love of your life? Your childhood best friend? The man you truly, utterly adored. George stepped close to you, holding your hands close to his heart.

“I love you.” He whispered, loud enough for only you to hear. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. Quickly before you could register what had happened he bit your lip, sly enough nobody else could notice it. You withheld a yelp, looking at him with slightly widened eyes. “That’s a hint for what’s to come later.” He smirked down at you, squeezing your hands as you turned to face your court. The Ton rose, applauds erupting in a cacophony of celebrations. The pair of you strode down the aisle, hand in hand, united before all.

You entered Birmingham House, fresh into your honeymoon respite. The house staff applaud you as you entered, and George thanked them gratefully. You nodded and thanked them, the pair of you beelining for the grand stair case. Red carpet and flowers from the reception lining the bannisters. George leaned down to your ear, whispering “I would run up these stairs right now with you in my arms if I could, but your wedding dress is much too heavy for me.” You chuckled, looking up at him. “You look ravishing in it, I must say.” His grin widened, you couldn’t help but scoff at his flattery.

“And you, my dear husband look delicious in this white and gold uniform.” George bit his lip, looking like he could devour you this very moment if given the chance. He would, once you were in your chambers.

“I cant wait to rip that beautiful dress off of you.” You felt butterflies erupt into flight in your stomach, your knees almost buckling. “But for now, I’ll admire your strength in carrying the thing.” He stopped at the stairs. He stood behind you, waving handmaidens away as he scooped up your train and skirts, lifting the weight so you could climb the stairs. “First act of marital duty, help my wife to bed in her wedding dress.” The pair of you laughed, climbing the stairs in tandem. The staff admired the pair of you, if this was your first night they were sure the pair of you, were a match made in heaven.

George swung open the doors to the chambers. A crackling fire blazed in the hearth, a grand ordained varnished mahogany four poster bed sits at the far centre wall. Curtains drape across its corners, and of course the room is themed in the famous royal reds. The moment the doors closed behind you, George dropped your dress, turning you around to face him. “I’ve been wanting to devour you the moment I saw you at the bottom of the aisle.” He slipped his fingers beneath the lacy sleeves in your shoulders. “But I have had to wait, and now, my dear wife, I need your attention.” You gulped, your core ablaze. He stood before you, breathing deep as if to calm himself. “I must ask you, I knew we have had our own improper dealings…” he was referring to all the times the pair of you slipped away in gardens, never going the full mile but, playful kisses, bold touches were most certainly exchanged. But never did you expose your bodies or go a step too far. You were friends first, then this romantic attraction had grown. And now here it was, in full display as you stood before each other. Wedding rings brand new and heavy, the sexual tension pulsating between you. “Are you comfortable with going the whole way tonight?” You looked up at him, through your lashes and sucked in a breath.

“I’m ready for anything if it is with you George.” He smiled, immediately leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. His kiss was feverish, desperate nearly. He yearned for your attention, your body. He had controlled himself for so, so long. He had desired you from the moment the pair of you had met and now it was finally coming to fruition. He slipped an arm around your waist, pressing you into his front. He licked your lips, nipping at them gentle. He sucked the tiny sting away, before finally slipping his tongue against yours, dancing around your mouth. Your breath escaped you, gasping against his kiss as he explored you. He took it as an invitation to delve deeper, gently guiding you backwards to the bed.

He lay you out like a feast. Bracing himself over you with a hand each side of your head, he lowered himself down to kiss you again. He brought his head to your neck, sucking at the sensitive skin where your neck and shoulder combined. Your skin popped out of his mouth with a wet smack, and he grinned. “Marked as my wife, I think I’ll do that more often.” You smirked you at him, wrapping your hands behind his neck.

“You dirty thing you.” You chuckled, guiding him back to your lips to kiss him again. He pulled you up, kneeling onto the bed and stepping around you, undoing the various buttons and ribbons with meticulous care. Ever so slowly he undid each fasten, achingly slow and you felt the fiery need in your core grow. Once you were free he came to stand in front of you, pulling you up as he slipped hands beneath the sleeves and pulled down the dress. Teasingly dragging the fabric over your skin and watching it fall from your body. You were adorned in lacy white lingerie, specifically for this moment. The dress fell to the floor, piled at your feet. The white garter around your thigh squeezing your flesh. He sucked in a shaky breath as he admired you, drinking in the sight before him.

“Oh the things I will do to you tonight my queen.” Without another word he ripped his own suit off, throwing the shirt to the side and yanking his trousers down till he stood in briefs. He guided you back to the bed, laying you down and crawling on top of you once more. He pulled you up till you lay completely on its mattress, then he began to turn his attention to your breasts. He grabbed the corset, yanking at the ribbons and pulling it off of you. Your breasts fell free, without a moments hesitation his mouth latched to your nipple, sucking and grazing his teeth over it. Your fingers snaked through his hair, tugging slightly. Your leg raised to wrap around his waist. He groped your other breasts in his hand, massaging it, squeezing and pulling gently. He turned his attention to the other nipple, leaving the other swollen and puffy. He brought his fingers to it as he sucked the other, pinching your nipple and causing you to squirm from the sensitivity. He chuckled against your skin, loving your reaction. The soft skin was heaven for him, this was perfection. You were perfection. He could not imagine himself in any other reality than this one, right now.

His lips left your nipple with a pop, and he licked a trail to your stomach. Kissing you lovingly and snaking his way to your waist. He toyed with the hem of your panties, playing with them as he looked up to you. “Ready my dear?” You nodded, gasping a quick breathless yes as he pressed two fingers to your slit. Rubbing the fabric between them and savouring your juices as they soaked it. He bit the hem of your underwear, dragging it down over your thighs and off your legs. He took it from his mouth, gently turning you over and bringing your hands behind your back. So smoothly he created a makeshift handcuff with the lacy white fabric, tying your hands behind your back. He rolled you back over, spreading your legs and diving into your cunt.

You squirmed beneath him, trying to pull away. He only yanked you closer to him, holding you still as he explored your folds. Licking long lazy lines up your centre, tasting you. He reached your clit, immediately beginning to lick and suck it. You arched your back, unable to contain your ecstasy. Moans escaping you as he played with you. He brought a finger up, inserting it agonisingly slow and working it in and out of you. Feeling you widen and soak his hand, he stuck in a second, then a third. He pumped his hand in and out of you, curling his fingers to reach that particular spot that made you cry out his name. Your moans rang through the room, your hands clawed at his head, simultaneously begging for him to continue and stop. He never slowed his pace, keeping steady rhythm in playing with your clit and pumping his fingers into you. “Oh George you’re going to- to make me cum!” You could barely speak between your moans, yet you felt him smile against you. He didn’t miss a beat, working you towards that orgasm. It was your undoing when he placed his other hand on your swollen clit, rubbing it fast and without mercy.

“Cum for me darling, show me what a good girl you are.” You cried out beneath him, his touch electrifying. The orgasm ripped through you, and he continue his ministrations throughout. Riding it out for you, leaving you a pile of mush and sweat. Breathing heavy. He grinned down at you, watching you catch your breath. “We are far from done my dear, I still have to put a baby in you.” You swore it was almost your undoing again, before he climbed off the bed and stood at its edge. He grabbed your thighs, pulling you off the bed with great care and guiding you to your knees. He pulled off his briefs, admiring his handy work at your makeshift handcuffs. “Show me what a good slut you are, wife. Suck me dry.” His cock stood hard and tall, he pressed it against your lips. You licked a slow line from its base to its tip, George moaned above you.

You took him in your mouth, sucking the tip and only taking him half way into your mouth. His size made it hard to full take him, so you made up for it in sucking him hard and licking his tip as beads of precum leaked. He looked down at you, grabbing a handful of your hair and guiding your head up and down on his dick. He began to face fuck you, creating a steady rhythm of in and out. Working his way deeper into your throat each time. “Such a pretty little slut aren’t you wife? Sucking my cock like this.” He admired the way your tits jiggled with each thrust he pushed into you. Without warning, he pushed himself into you to the hilt, his balls against your chin. “Take it, take it like a good girl.” Your toes curled, gagging on his cock as your eyes watered. He pulled out allowing you to catch your breath, before slamming back in. He repeated this over and over again, choking you on the sheer size of his cock. He was a moaning mess above you, muttering ‘yes, yes’ with each thrust.

“Oh I’m going to cum, drink it all wife. Don’t let a drop go to waste.” He thrust into you three more times until finally, it was his undoing. He came long strings of cum into the back of your throat, forcing you to gulp it down or choke and gag. He watched you swallow, admiring you and how pretty you looked. “My beautiful little slut, drinking my cum so eagerly.” Once he had finished he pulled out, leaving you gasping for air. He let go of his grip in your hair and picked you up, walking to a desk in the corner. With one hand he swiped the contents to the ground, grabbing the panties tied around your wrists he lay you across the table, ass in the air and your breasts pressing into the smooth cold mahogany. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to stand my dear.” You could hear the grin in his voice, this side of George was something you hadn’t expected, but you loved it. You wanted more of it. You needed him, every inch of him.

He spread your legs with his foot, then grabbed your ass cheeks and spread them for a clear view of your cunt. He pushed two fingers inside you, lubing them up before quickly pumping his cock. He lined the tip with your entrance. You could feel the head of it slipping inside, he slowly entered, letting you adjust to his size. He stayed pushing in till he was completely inside you. He waited until he felt you adjust, then slowly pulled out. He gritted out behind closed teeth how tight you were, how wet you were. Your moans and pleads of him to fuck you pushed him to the edge. He knew you were accustomed to his size, so without warning he pounded into you. Shoving you up the table and a resounding clap ricocheted off the walls.

“Fuck George, yes!” You cried, your front flush with the wood. He pulled out and slammed into you again. He kept your legs spread, yet held onto the panties tied around your wrists and used them to hold you in position. He fucked you relentlessly, moaning above you as he pounded into your pussy.

“Oh fuck, you delicious heavenly thing. My wife, taking my cock like a good slut.” He rammed himself into you again, picking up the pace and without mercy slammed himself into you. His balls slapped against your clit, it was overstimulating. “You look so pretty like this, bent over my desk, bare to me and being fucked so brutally.” He pounded into you with each word, not giving you a moments rest. “I’m going to cum in you, you will look so beautiful while you grow our heir inside you.” This realisation fuelled him, and as you cried out his name he slammed himself into you to the hilt, over and over again.

“Fucking hell I’m going to cum!” You yelled out, followed by a chorus of moans and pleas. He smiled at you, watching you rock back and forth on the desk with each thrust.

“Cum for me pretty slut.” He said as he reached a hand around your thigh and rubbed at your clit. It was your undoing, you released and a moan so loud escaped you. George muttered a ‘fuck, yes’ and suddenly you could feel a pool of warmth growing in core. His seed spilled into you, filling you. He stayed inside you, breathing deeply for a moment. The pair of you could barely catch your breath, stars dancing in your eyes from the level of ecstasy you had just reached.

George lifted you with such gentle care, he stayed inside you, but guided you to the bed. He lay down and placed you above him, he kept himself inserted into your weeping cunt. “I refuse to let any leak out my lovely wife.” He smirked at you, but you couldn’t help but kiss him.

“If this is how we fuck my love, we will have a lot of babies.”

[moonshynecybin]

if you could typecast the grid as stereotypical americans who would be who? (idk if i'm making any sense) but for example bezz gives very cali stoner energy.

god this one is hard because they are all so stunningly european. truly. american men do not act like that. the jean tightness alone. ummm. okay let’s start with the easy ones

pecco: pecco is from a suburb like three hours from chicago and he tells everyone he’s from chicago. framed bulls jerseys on the wall etc

pedro acosta: someone said baseball player from north carolina and yeah. i can imagine bumping into this guy at cookout. like he’s giving charlotte/macklenberg county. serving gastonia. he went to nc state with my friend thomas and he has strong basketball opinions.

bez: califoniaaaaa you’re right. of the surfer or skater variety… either way he’s in baggy as fuck clothes skulking around outside kicking it whenever he can. eating a sandwich

vale: new jersey. my trashy italian american clown princess

mav: screams boston 2 me

aleix: too european im being real. insane amounts of european. kind of breaking my brain sooo im not assigning him one

enea: gay ass san fran guy with his lil dog. walkin around the castro the dog gets hot. he picks up the dog. gay pride flag in the background. i cheer. he’s drinking espresso that costs fourteen american dollars. that’s like 12.50 euro google is telling me

casey stoner: this bitch is from vermont

luca: right across the river from vale in new york citayyyy… i think he would thrive in an environment where he doesn’t look insane wearing something very elegant and a lil dressier. like you can’t really do that in idk. most of the south or midwest or southwest or— anyways we’re sending him to nyc

jorge martin: i COULD see him hanging out in florida but like slutty florida not trashy florida. just on a beach in miami in the tiniest shorts imaginable with aleix comma also there europeanly. idk

joan mir: LOUSIANA. need to take his pissy ass to the bayou.

jack miller: attended the university of alabama and was perhaps too invested in SEC football culture. i would end this by saying roll tide for comedy but that would make me gag here in real life. anyways

marc and alex. hmmmmmmm. i could see outside austin texas as that seems 2 be hallowed ground for marc lol. alternatively. kentucky. horse boys. this is another hard one i’m open to suggestions here cuz nothin is jumping out at me tbh

franky: seems into mindfulness in a way that is giving seattle. runs a bookstore with REALLY good staff picks. big ass armchairs HUGE used book section that smells good. sitting there petting the store cat in a flannel with the sleeves rolled up. sipping his coffee. works nights at the local bar sometimes. who said that.

brad binder: denver.

[johnsbleu]

Hold My Hand: John Wick x Reader Chapter 174

warnings: none hmh masterlist

How the hell is she one? How in the world is Ronan Charlotte a year old? It seems like not so long ago, you were finding out you were even pregnant. And yet, here she is, a whole year old. Time truly flies by, doesn't it?

It's amazing how much can change in just one year. She’s grown and developed so much. She's learned to crawl, walk, and talk--some of her favorite words being ‘dada’, “mama’, ‘boo’ for Bleu, ‘toes’ for toast; her favorite breakfast, and saying ‘uh oh’ when someone drops something. Watching her grow and learn has been such a joy for everyone around her, especially you and John. It's hard to believe that just twelve months ago, she was still in your belly. But now, she's a happy and healthy little girl with a whole world of possibilities ahead of her.

Not only is this a milestone for her, but it is for you and John as well. You’ve made it through your first year of parenthood! It’s been one hell of a ride, but it’s been so fun, and what’s made it even better is knowing you have him by your side through all the ups and downs and bumps along the way. He’s been a great partner and father. You really couldn’t ask for a better person by your side. Hopefully he feels the same way.

You remember the anxiety you felt the day you were going to tell him that you were pregnant. You remember how nervous and excited you were, and you remember how happy John was when he finally found the ornament and read it. It was one of the happiest days of your lives when you told him, then 9 months later, on September fifth--on her mom and dad’s anniversary--Ronan decided to join this world and it made the day all the sweeter.

“That is still so fucking wild,” Tess says, and you look over at her as you continue putting decorations together, “How the hell did you plan that?”

“Plan what?”

Tess furrows her brow when she looks at you, “Ronan being born on your anniversary. What kind of black magic was that?”

You start to laugh, “Pure luck.”

“Fate,” John chimes in, and you smile as you look at him while Tess playfully gags despite the fact that she probably thinks it’s cute. He wraps his arm around your waist and kisses your cheek, “Definitely fate. Something bigger had a hand in this.”

“Or I just had really good timing. Maybe I seduced you on purpose that day knowing that if I got pregnant we would have a baby nine months later on our anniversary. Maybe I’m secretly a huge mastermind.” you say, and John starts to laugh, “Do not laugh! Maybe it’s true!”

John shakes his head, “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about you these past three years, it’s that you’re very smart. Very, very smart, but even I don’t think you could have planned this.”

“Yeah, no, to be honest, it would have been so much work, and I just don’t think I would have had the patience,” you laugh, and he kisses your cheek, “But nonetheless, it is pretty wild.”

Tess smiles as she looks at the two of you, “How was your trip? I’ve barely had time to talk with you today.”

When you got home last night, you just got Ronan and immediately went home to spend time with her before she needed to go to bed. She was so excited to see you and John that she just couldn’t get herself calmed down enough to even go to bed. She eventually fell asleep halfway through eating a banana, which was pretty cute. You and John were laughing over how cute she was that you were both in tears.

Today has been spent decorating and getting ready for her birthday party, so you haven’t had much time to really talk with Tess.

“It was really good,” John says, and you smile at him. “Definitely a much needed trip.”

Tess grins when you look at her, “You had sex on every surface, didn’t you?”

“We had so much sex,” you laugh, and John puts his head down, his cheeks turning red. You love embarassing him.“One day we did nothing but have sex. It was amazing. It reminded me of when we first met. I don’t think I even put on clothes that day.”

“You did for about an hour before you ripped them off again,” John says, smiling at you, “It was the best day.”

You playfully roll your eyes, “It was a great day. But like John said, it was a much needed trip. It was so nice to just be the two of us. I definitely don’t want to wait that long before we have another trip. Maybe our next one we can bring the whole family.”

John steals a carrot from the veggie tray Tess is making, “We wanted to go to Switzerland for our babymoon, but you were very pregnant. I think it’d be fun to go there with the family. It’s beautiful there. We should think about going next spring or even this winter.”

“Ooh, that sounds fun to me!” you say, leaning up to kiss him. “Anyway, yeah, the trip was perfect. It was so nice to just be with John and not having any distractions. I hate to admit it but I missed having John to myself.”

“I missed having you to myself too,” John admits, which makes you feel better.

“Look, I know I tease you two a lot,” Tess says, and you both look at her, “But honestly, you two are so cute. You gross me out with how lovey-dovey you can be, but you’re cute.”

You start to laugh, “Oh come on, Tess, let the walls down.”

“Fine!” she huffs before she looks at you with tears in her eyes, “I think you two are so perfect for each other and I’m really happy that you found each other. John is perfect for you, and you’re perfect for him! You’re doing a great job raising your daughter together, and as your big sister, I’m so happy for you, but most of all, I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve accomplished these past few years. You have two successful bookshops, you have a bookbinding business that does really well, John teaches classes that are super popular, and not once have you two ever really struggled relationship wise--okay, before you give me that look!” she says when you cock up your brow, “I know you’ve had fights--all couples do! But you know what I mean! You two have never even entertained the thought of breaking up or anything. You have such a great relationship and that is so important for Ro to see. She’s so lucky to have you and John as her parents, and I love you two, okay? God!”

You and John both start to laugh, and Tess gives you a very unimpressed look.

“Why did you say that so aggressively?” John laughs as he walks over to hug Tess, “We love you too.”

You smile, “I love sensitive Tess so much. You should let her out more often.”

Tess is in full tears now, “You two are just so cute, and I’m so in love with Jimmy.”

“We know,” you say, and she pouts, “He’s in love with you too.”

“What does being in love with Jimmy have to do with us?” John asks, and you look at Tess.

She wipes her tears off her face, “Well, because I’m in love and so is Goose, and that’s good.”

“It is very good,” you say, then you rub her shoulder, “Maybe you should go lay down for a few minutes.”

“Yeah, maybe. Oh, and one more thing!” she says aggressively, which makes you and John laugh. “I would love to go to Switzerland, so it’s a yes from me but do I have to pay for it?”

John laughs before shaking his head, “No, it’d be all paid for by us.”

“Well, now I’m gonna cry because that’s really sweet of you! John, you’re the sweetest.” she sniffles as she shuffles off to the living  room, and you widen your eyes and look at John.

John laughs quietly, “Is she okay?”

“Yeah, you know…” you roll your eyes playfully, “Sometimes people are just a little sensitive. Sometimes people are so happy that they cry.”

“Yeah, you sobbed for 15 minutes when you saw a picture of me from when I was little,” he says, and you jut your bottom lip out. “A picture that you had seen many times. I just came into the kitchen to find you with your head on the counter while you cried.”

“You were so cute!” you cup his face and squish his cheeks, “Your dorky little smile was so fucking adorable, and I see so much of Ronan in it. Her nose, her eyes, her little grin, she’s your twin!”

John smiles proudly, “She’s pretty cute.”

“She is,” you wrap your arms around his waist, “So in love with my brown eyed Virgo babies. And by the way, when that happened, I was pregnant. So, you know, I had an excuse. My emotions were everywhere.”

John nods, “Yeah, you were pregnant.”

You widen your eyes and look up at John just as he looks at you, then you walk into the living room to find Tess laying on the couch scrolling through her phone.

“Are you pregnant?”

Tess doesn’t even look at you, she just bursts out laughing, “Fuck no!”

“You sure?”

“Yes,” she sits up on her elbow and looks at you, “Positive.”

You squint your eyes at her and wait for her to crack, but she just stares back. You tilt your head and do a ‘I’m watching you’ motion with your hand, and Tess just laughs.

“Have fun,” she says as you walk back to the kitchen, “I’m not pregnant though.”

John smiles, “You think she’s pregnant?”

“No, I just like to tease her.”

“Hey,” John whispers softly when you start to walk away. He reaches for your hand and pulls you back to him, “Happy anniversary, by the way.”

You tilt your head back and kiss him, “Happy anniversary.”

“Three years, peach.” he says, and you hug him tight, “I’m so glad that we were able to get away and celebrate, but I still want to take a moment to appreciate today, not just because it’s Bug’s birthday. It’s the best day of my life for many reasons.”

“I love you so much.”

John leans into your palm when you cup his face, “Today wouldn’t possible without you.”

“It wouldn’t be without you either.” you say as he smiles, “I don’t get all the credit here.”

“Well, you deserve 50% of it.” he smiles, and you let out a small laugh, “Maybe even more.”

You shake your head, “50% sounds good to me!”

__

The party is pretty much in full swing. Aurelio and his family arrived a little late, but that’s okay. You know what life with a baby is like, so you’re sure life with two kids is even harder. The backyard is full of family and friends, and even staff from the shops. It’s nice that everyone is showing up for your baby girl, who is currently playing in the sprinkler with all the other kids. Thankfully it’s a warm day today.

Ronan will be needing a change of clothes, so after making sure someone has their eye on her and the rest of the kids, you head inside to get some dry clothes for her. Last you saw, John was getting the grill ready, so you’re not surprised when you find the house empty. You head upstairs to Ronan’s room and smile to yourself when you hear laughter coming from the open windows.

“Okay,” you exhale as you walk over to her clothes.

You pick an outfit for her to wear today since it’s her birthday but since she’ll be having cake, she probably shouldn’t wear it right now. You’ll wait to change her after she has her cake. Or maybe you should change her beforehand, get some cute pictures, then let her have cake. You’re not entirely sure, so you stand there for a few minutes staring at her closet.

As you stand there and look at all of Ronan’s clothes, you feel your eyes beginning to burn with tears. They roll down your cheeks when you blink, and you reach out and hold an outfit Ronan wore a few months ago that can no longer fit in.

She’s growing up.

The thought has been on your mind all day, so it’s certainly not new, but…your baby is growing up. She’s not going to be a baby anymore. The thought might not be a new one but it completely breaks you down into tears.

**

Since I got the grill started and some food done, I look around in search of Y/N. I want to make sure that her and Ronan get something to eat. Y/N has been running around all morning trying to make sure everything is perfect for the party today, so I want to make sure that she’s getting food in her. I don’t need her getting dizzy or too hungry. I already know she’s stressed out.

“Hey,” I lightly touch Bev’s shoulder, “Have you seen Y/N?”

She shakes her head, “No, I haven’t, honey.”

I nod and look around the yard. I smile when I see Ronan giggling as she plays in the sprinkler with Finn, and I watch them for a few moments before heading into the house. It’s quiet in here, so I assume she must be either in the bathroom or I’ve missed her outside somehow. I check the bathroom downstairs before I head up to our room. Empty.

“Peach?” I call out, listening to the quiet house. I furrow my brow when I hear a sniffle, and I walk down to Ronan’s room, finding Y/N looking out the window. I walk up behind her, “Hey, food is getting done.”

“Okay,” she says quietly. I lean forward and see a tear roll down her cheek, and I quickly wipe it away, “Baby, are you okay? Hey, look at me. Are you okay?”

She nods, “Yeah.”

I turn her around slowly and look into her bloodshot eyes. She has makeup running down her cheeks too, and she’s clinging to an outfit that Ronan probably hasn’t fit into for at least 3 months. The stress and worry I was feeling melts away, and I feel my entire body soften when I realize why she’s upset.

“I know,” I nod, rubbing her arms as she cries harder, “I don’t want her to grow up either.”

“Why is she doing this to us?” she asks, laughing through her tears.

I smile, “Because she’s going to be the bravest, smartest, kindest, and most beautiful girl in the world, just like her mom. She’s going to do great things and the world deserves to know Ronan Charlotte Wick.”

“I feel like just yesterday we brought her home from the hospital and sat on the couch, stressing about everything we were about to go through.” she says, and I nod. “I remember us sitting there stressing out about how to just feed her and when to feed her.”

I start to laugh, “I remember stressing out about my first night alone with her. I watched Finn alone before but he wasn’t a newborn baby. Ronan was, and I was beyond stressed out. Now it’s a breeze. I love when you’re able to go out and have a nice time and I get to spend it with her. It’s nice. I love building my relationship with her, and everything is just second nature. I don’t question myself. I don’t text or call you every ten minutes asking you if it’s okay if I sit on the couch and hold her instead of laying her in her little DockATot. And a year ago, I wouldn’t have had a fucking clue what a DockATot is. I would have thought it was like…I don’t know, some weird gadget.”

Y/N closes her eyes as she laughs, “It does sound like a weird gadget.”

“It’s a freaking bed. It’s a little lounger for your baby. That’s crazy! And the nose thing that you use to suck out boogers?” I say, and she immediately scrunches up her face, “Yeah, it’s gross, for sure. But I didn’t know that shit a year ago. A year ago, I knew one thing, and that was that I loved that little girl with my entire heart the moment she took her first breath--well, I knew the moment you told me that you were pregnant, but when I held her in my arms, all of the fears that I had went away. I knew in my heart everything was going to be okay because I had you.”

I shouldn’t have said that because it just makes her cry again. But it’s true.

“I had you to help me. I had you by my side. I knew that parenthood wasn’t something to be scared of because you were by my side holding my hand,” I say, reaching for her hand, “I can’t thank you enough for how much happiness you’ve given me since you came into my life three years ago. I am so beyond grateful for you. You are the love of my life.”

Yeah, shouldn’t have said that either. She’s fully crying now with Ronan’s dress pressed to her mouth. She’s fucking precious.

“I love you,” she says, sniffling as she looks up at me, “I am so happy that you’re her dad.”

“Me too.” I laugh, nodding my head, “I’m happy you’re her mom; she has the best role model.”

Y/N juts her bottom lip out, “I can’t believe she’s one. I just want her to be a tiny baby forever.”

Wiping the tear off her cheek, I cup her face, “You know what I’ve learned this past year?”

“What?”

I smile, “No matter how old she gets, she’s always going to be our baby. Whether she’s six months old, six years old, or 36. She will be our baby. We get the privilege of watching her grow up and learn things that we taught her--us, her parents! How lucky is that? I watch you teach her things, then I watch her use that knowledge. Isn’t that amazing?”

“Yeah,” she laughs, sniffling again, “It is, and I see you teach her things too. It’s the best.”

“I know it’s hard watching her grow up, and if I’m honest, I wish we could slow down time. I don’t want this to ever end.” I say, getting misty-eyed, “I absolutely love my life with you two. It’s perfect and it’s far more than I deserve.”

She shakes her head, “You deserve everything, John. You deserve all of this.”

I wrap my arms around her and hold her tight to my chest as we both stand there, sniffling quietly. I press a kiss to the top of her head and lean back to look at her, and she wipes away the tears on her cheek.

“I think part of my issue is, yes, I’m sad she’s growing up, but she’s also getting closer to being a teenager and I’m not ready for that.” she says, and I furrow my brow. She sighs loudly and takes a few steps away before walking back over to me, “My mom and I didn’t always have the best relationship. Mom and daughters can have…complicated relationships. I want to try my best to avoid that.”

“What do you mean?”

Sighing again, she looks at me, “From 13-15 years old, I wasn’t very nice to my mom. I flew off the handle over little things. I was a young girl going through a ton of changes and I, unfortunately, took it out on my mom. I don’t want that for me and Ronan. I want us to always be close. I want to be her mom, but I also want to be her friend. I want her to want to talk to me about things that are bothering her. I bottled up everything and didn’t tell my mom. I struggled silently with so much stuff--what I was going through was nothing compared to Tess, so I just stayed quiet.”

“You can’t compare pain, sweetheart. If something hurts, it hurts. What you were feeling was just as important as what Tess was feeling.” I say, and she nods.

“And I know that now. Tess actually was the one who told me that, and of course mom was so upset when she found out because it’s true, my feelings were just as important.” she says, laughing quietly, “But I’m so scared that Ronan’s going to hate me when she’s a teenager. I don’t want to ever overstep or feel like I’m projecting onto her either. I don’t want her to feel like I’m expecting too much from her. I want us to have a good relationship forever.”

I nod sympathetically, then I rest my hands on her shoulders, “I get it. Ronan is always going to love you; you’re her mom! She’s going to love you forever. But listen to me…there is no use in worrying about things that might or might not happen twelve years from now. There’s no use. You don’t deserve to be sad or stressed out about it.”

“Twelve years really puts it into perspective.” she says, and I smile at her. “You’re right. I should be enjoying this milestone. It’s not a sad day; it’s just bittersweet.”

“I’m not saying you’re not allowed to be sad because trust me, I’m sad. Our baby girl is growing up! She’s already a year old and I hate that.” I say as we both tear up, “She’s getting older and it’s such a bittersweet thing but we’re so lucky to be able to watch her grow and learn. We’re so lucky that we have the most perfect angel of a daughter.”

Y/N laughs, “She really is an angel, isn’t she?”

I gesture to the open window, “Listen to her laughing out there.”

We both go silent and listen as Ronan squeals happily in the sprinkler with all of the other kids. I look back at Y/N and hold her gaze, and she smiles softly at me before leaning up to give me a kiss.

“I love you,” she says, and I pull her closer, “Thank you for making me feel better.”

“I am always going to be here to make you feel better,” I say as she leans against my chest, “Let’s go see our baby girl now.”

Y/N looks up at me, and I put my finger up and take her hand. I bring her into our room, then to our bathroom, all while she looks beyond confused. I lift her onto the counter and get a few of her make-up wipes, then I gently wipe away the makeup staining her cheeks. I look into her eyes and furrow my brow when I see her tearing up again.

“Are you okay?”

“This is the sweetest thing you’ve ever done,” she whispers, and I let out a confused laugh. She gestures to me wiping her makeup off, “This. This is so romantic. It’s tender. It shows me how much you care about me.”

I cup her face, “I care so deeply about you.”

“I know,” she smiles, “I care deeply about you too. God, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

I start to laugh when she tears up and throws her hands up in a playful manner since she’s crying again. I tuck her hair behind her ear and kiss her cheek before hugging her tight. She exhales and looks at me, and I wipe her face off again.

“I’m done crying now.” she says, hopping off the counter and grabbing her makeup bag. “Lemme just fix my makeup quick.”

I watch her as she carefully puts mascara on her lashes--waterproof, she told me--then I smile at her and take her hand before heading back downstairs. The closer we get to the back patio, the louder Ronan’s giggle is, and I smile down at Y/N and see her laughing quietly.

The moment the door opens and we step out, Ronan turns her attention to us and comes running over, screaming for one person in particular who deserves all the love right now.

“Momma!” Ronan screams, running over to Y/N, who kneels down and opens her arms.

“Hi, baby.” she hugs her tight and closes her eyes, “Goodness, I love you so much.”

My heart swells with pride and joy at the sight of my little family. My wife. My daughter. Both so precious, and all mine.

__

“Hey,” I pull Y/N aside and smile, “Think it’s time?”

“I think so.” she nods, then she takes my hand and together we sneak into the house.

I let go of her hand to open the basement door, then I gesture for her to go first and follow behind. I smile when I hear the little meows coming from downstairs, and Y/N gasps and rushes over to the kitten.

“Oh, goodness,” she laughs when she sees the cat covered in wet food, “You’re a bit of a mess, aren’t you?”

I smile, “He’s gonna fit in just fine here.”

“True,” she laughs as she walks to the bathroom to clean him off. “Do you have a box?”

I found a cardboard box and wrapped it up with colorful paper and put a huge bow on it, and some holes for air of course.

“Yeah, I got this one,” I bring it over to the couch and put Baby Cat’s blanket inside, then I smile when Y/N comes out of the bathroom with him as she dries him off. “Can’t wait for her to finally get him so we can stop calling him Baby Cat.”

“Maybe she’ll like that name.”

I grimace, “I hope not.”

“Hey! It look a lot of brain power for me to come up with that,” she jokes, and I playfully swat her knee. She carefully places the kitten into the box and closes it up, then she picks it up and hands it to me. “Here.”

I take the box and carefully go upstairs with it, glancing back to make sure Y/N is following. She holds open the patio door and smiles, looking around for Ronan.

“Ro,” she calls out and waves her over, “We got you a present.”

The poor kitten is going to be passed around to everyone, so hopefully he’s a patient little guy.

Y/N sits down and pats the spot next to her, then she looks at me and pats the spot on her other side. I sit down with the box and smile when I hear a tiny meow coming from it.

“We have another present for you,” she says, and Ronan looks up at her, “But you have to gentle, okay?”

I can tell the family is confused. We didn’t tell them about the little souvenir we brought home from The Bahamas.

Ronan nods her head as Y/N puts her in her lap. She gives me the okay to open the box, and I carefully take the lid off and move it over so Ronan can look in. She lets out a gasp and makes the ‘O’ shape with her mouth as she stares at Y/N with her brown eyes.

“What is that?” I ask, and Ronan leans over again to look. “Is that a kitten?”

“Kitty,” Ronan says, pointing at it, “Momma.”

Y/N laughs, “I see! Isn’t he cute?”

Ronan reaches in with absolutely no hesitation and pets the kitten. When he licks her fingers, she giggles loudly, causing all the other kids to come over and see what’s going on. For the kitten being so tiny, he sure loves all the attention and isn’t at all scared, which will be great because Ronan is like a tornado. We’ll teach her to be gentle with him though.

“This is our new kitten,” Y/N says, and Ronan looks up at her, “What should we name him?”

Ronan just shrugs.

“We’ll give it some time,” I say, and Y/N laughs.

“Oh, stop it!” Tess smiles as she leans down to look at the kitten, “When did you guys get him?”

I look at Y/N before looking at Tess, “While we were in The Bahamas. There were cats everywhere and he was outside our cottage one night. We took him inside and I found where he lived. They said we could keep him.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Y/N puts her hand up and laughs, “No, I kept hearing something around like…two in the morning and I was freaked out thinking it was a serial killer. I finally woke John up and he went outside and found him!”

Tess smiles, “He’s so cute.”

Y/N grins, “I keep calling him Baby Cat but John doesn’t like it.”

“Ronan needs to name him,” I say as Ronan looks at me, “What’s his name?”

Ronan looks at him like she’s really thinking it through, then she shrugs again.

I laugh, “We’ll figure out eventually.”

Anything is better than Baby Cat. Okay, I’ll admit, Baby Cat is kind of growing on me, but I won’t dare tell Y/N.

“Toes,” Ronan says, and everyone looks at her, “Toes!”

We all look confused for a moment before Y/N and I lock eyes, immediately figuring it out when she says it again.

“Toast!” Y/N and I both say in unison.

“Is his name Toast?” I ask, and Ronan smiles as she nods proudly. “Toast.”

Ronan continues talking to the kitten, calling him Toast over and over, and I smile when Y/N looks at me. We both start to laugh since of course our daughter would name her kitten Toast. We have a fish named Dada and now a cat named Toast. I can’t wait to see what else she names our future pets.

__

**

The rest of the day went really well. You cried like a baby when Ronan blew out her candles, then you cried again when she tried to feed John a piece of cake, but that time it was from the laughter. She opened her presents and instantly wanted to play with them and share them with the other kids at the party, but of course she was quick to run back to you and John to show you all her special things she got.

As the party started to die down, so did Ronan. She was trying her best to stay awake, but she eventually fell asleep on the couch tucked into John’s arms while you all sat around and talked. The kitten was tucked in there too until you moved him into the guest bedroom for now.

“I admire her strength,” your mom says when you look at her, “She was holding on for dear life, just fighting to keep those eyelids open.”

You laugh as you look at Ronan in John’s arms, who is also asleep. You smile to yourself as you look at those two just sleeping away. John is still holding Ronan but he has his head propped up by his right hand. It’s going to slip soon and he’ll jolt himself awake.

There isn’t anything to clean up since your family and friends were kind enough to help clean up and take home leftover food and cake. You’ve been up since five this morning, so you’re ready to lay down in bed.

You rest your head against your mom’s shoulder and close your eyes, “Sorry for being so shitty when I was a teenager.”

“What?” she laughs, and you look at her.

“When I was a teenager, I was really shitty to you.” you say, shrugging your shoulder, “So, I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Your mom sits up and furrows her brow, completely bewildered as to why you’re bringing this up. She looks past you at Ronan and nods slowly before looking back at you.

“It was tough, but I didn’t take it personal.” she says, and you nod as you tear up, “All that we went through then was so worth it. The relationship that we have now? It was worth all the screaming, eye rolling, and door slamming.”

You laugh, “I slammed my door once.”

“Damn right it was once. I shut that down right away.” she says as you laugh, then she reaches for your hand, “I was a young girl once too. I knew exactly how it felt to be fifteen once. Admittedly, I should have checked in with you and it’s something that bothered me for a very long time as you grew up, so I apologize for that and I hope you can forgive me for that. I’m so lucky to have such a kind and beautiful daughter who I can call my friend.”

You look down as you cry, then you nod, “Yeah.”

“I know you won’t make my mistake, and I know you’ll always be there for Ronan.”

“You were a single mom, you had a job that was so demanding, you had just adopted another kid.” you say, and she nods, “You had a lot on your plate and I knew that. I always knew. I never thought you didn’t love me or something. I knew you did--I know you do. I’m glad to say you’re my mom. You’re an incredible mom. All my friends wished that you’d adopt them too because everyone loved you, me included! I want to be just like you when I grow up.”

She laughs, “I’m flattered, but you’re quite amazing yourself, sweetheart.”

You start to laugh as you look over at Ronan, then you look back at your mom, “I don’t want her to grow up. She’s my baby.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” she says, holding your gaze, then she reaches for your hand, “But look at you, all grown up and with your own daughter now. But no matter what, one thing will never ever change: you will always be my baby.”

Which is exactly what John said about Ronan earlier.

Nodding your head, you look at her as you both tear up, then you lean over to hug her. She holds tight to you and rubs your back, then she kisses your cheek before getting up from the couch. You look over at John as he opens his eyes and stretches out, and you give him a knowing smile because he definitely wasn’t asleep the whole time--come on, no one has that perfect of timing. Not even John Wick.

“Heading out?” John asks, and your mom nods. “I’ll walk you out to your car.”

“Oh, no need.” she smiles, touching his arm when he stands up. “You two go snuggle that little girl.”

You laugh, “It’s only 6 PM. I’m half tempted to wake her up, so she’s not up at 4 in the morning looking to play with her new toys while John and I are still passed out from running on 4 hours of sleep.”

John hugs your mom and looks out the window to wave at Dan, who is talking with Jimmy in the driveway. John looks at you and bounces Ronan a little, and you turn to your mom and hug her, holding on tight.

“I love you and I’m so proud of the woman you’ve become.” she whispers softly, “One day you’ll be hugging Ronan--”

“Nope!” you laugh as you let go of her, “I don’t want to think about her being an adult. Nope, nope, nope.”

John laughs when your mom playfully widens her eyes and grimaces. She leans down to give Ronan a kiss, then she grabs her bag and waves before walking to the door. You turn to John and exhale sharply, looking down at Ronan in his arms.

“I am…so exhausted.”

“I just had a nice nap,” John says, and you cock up your brow. “Okay, so I wasn’t sleeping when you two started talking but I didn’t want to be rude and I also didn’t want to ruin the moment, which was very sweet.”

You walk over to him and pucker your lips for a kiss, “Can we just hang out the rest of the night?”

“Absolutely,” he nods, then he shifts Ronan a little, “But I have to put her down.”

“I think that she should sleep with us tonight,” you say as you move her brown hair out of her face, “I just want to fall asleep with my two favorite people.”

John nods his head in agreement, “I think that sounds like a fantastic plan.”

Since you’ll probably come back downstairs to get something to eat later, you only turn off a few lights. You let Bleu out to use the bathroom and give him some food as well, then you head up to your room. John carefully changes Ronan into some pajamas and out of her fluffy pink dress that is slightly covered in dirt and cake, then he lays her in the center of the bed where she immediately snuggles down.

You change into something more comfortable, then you sit on the bed and look at John as he just stands there a little awkwardly. You furrow your brow and watch as he walks over to the closet, then he digs through it and pulls out a box.

“So, uh…”

“Jonathan!” you quietly scold him, “We already did anniversary gifts.”

He shakes his head, “This isn’t an anniversary gift. It’s something I’ve been working on for a while now, well, for about a year.”

You start to get up but he shakes his head and sits down next to you on the bed. He hands over the box and gestures for you to open it, and you nudge his arm before playfully rolling your eyes. You take the top off the box and reach into the tissue paper, and your fingers wrap around what feels like a book.

Pulling your hand out of the box, you look down at the book and immediately smile, “Our Baby’s First Year.”

John scoots closer and wraps his arm around your waist, “Open it.”

Flipping the book open, you feel tears burning your eyes when you see the very first picture ever taken of Ronan. Her wrinkly little hands and soft skin, just a few moments old. You turn the page and see a photo of Ronan's first smile, captured at just two months old. It's hard to believe how small she was back then, but you can still remember the moment vividly.

As you continue flipping through the pages, you see all of Ronan's milestones--her first steps, her first words, and even her first Christmas. Each moment is captured beautifully. You turn the page again and let out a laugh when you see it’s filled with twelve selfies of John and Ronan--one for every month.  

“Shut up,” you laugh, pointing to the one of her at eight months old where she’s smiling at John, “Look at how much she loves you.”

“Look at how much she loves you.” he says, flipping the page.

You immediately slap your hand over your mouth when you see the pages covered in images of you and Ronan that John has taken every single month, pictures that you didn’t even know he had taken.

“I snuck pictures all the time, I still do,” he says softly, “I had to have Tess help me because I kept getting a notification about my phone storage. She told me that I had too many pictures saved. I couldn’t tell you because…”

You nod when he gestures to the book, “John, remember what I said earlier about wiping off my makeup?”

He laughs, “Yeah. Definitely not even in the top ten sweetest things I’ve done. I didn’t do it to be sweet. I just wanted to help you feel better.”

“It was definitely sweet, but this…” you look down at the book and flip through the pages, “This is beyond sweet. I don’t…I don’t even have words. Thank you so much.”

John presses a kiss to your temple, “You’re very welcome.”

This book is a testament to all of the joy that Ronan has brought into your lives, and you know that it will be treasured for years to come. You’re already planning on putting it on the coffee table and making every single person look at it when they come over, not only because your baby is gorgeous and the most precious thing on the planet, but John took a lot of time to put it together.

Closing the book gently, you place it on the nightstand and lean into John's embrace. All the anxiety you had been feeling earlier about Ronan growing up has passed. It’s been a quick year but a great one. She’s happy and healthy, as are you and John. What more could you ask for?

Well, you know one thing.

You lean back and look at John, a smile growing on your face, “Want a piece of cake?”

“Why did I think you were going to ask if I wanted to have another baby?”

You scoff as you get up from the bed, “Patience, Mr. Wick.”

John smiles when you look back at him, “Okay, okay. You did say that we would start trying when Ronan would start potty training though.”

Turning back around, you lean against the door frame and hold his gaze, both of you smiling like absolute idiots. You smile at him as he turns to face you more, and you cross your arms and laugh a little.

“Well,” you shrug as you glance over at Ronan, then you look back at him, “I guess we only have to wait six more months then.”

Pure joy rips through John as he gets up and rushes over to you, lifting you up as you both laugh. You look over his shoulder and see Ronan still completely zonked out on the bed, and you close your eyes and hold tight to John as he carries you down the kitchen for a much deserved slice of cake.

__

taglist: @lilithlinen @ladyren33 @multifandombliss @ruby-octo @tnu-ree @scream-queen-25 @beingnerdyissupercool @sakurachan-9

[hells-sirenqueen]

:Return of Lilith ~ Post God's Judgement:

For hours, Lilith was lost in a sea of darkness, screams and voices yelling at her. Even from the beginning of her life, voices were raised against her.

Was it a fault of hers that she was independent? That she had a voice that demanded to be heard above the suppression forced upon her?

If she was meant to represent humanity, the Seraphim - God Himself, had a piss poor design plan. She wasn't going to let anyone stop her from being heard.

The only one who truly seemed to listen to her was Lucifer. Oh Lucifer..

Her darling husband. Recalling her last moments, she felt a pang of regret for the pain she inflicted upon him. She never enjoyed the idea of hurting him on purpose in ways that were not enjoyable for both parties. However, what was done was done. Lilith could barely remain standing most days. Taking what chances she could to lay down or sit upon the lap of a contact to allow her catch her breath; masking her need to rest behind flirtatious advancements. No one wanted to see a Queen of Hell crumbling near the eve of battle. She had to put on a brave face.

So many key moments in her life replayed over and over as she heard the voice of God utter his judgement. After so many frequent visits, his voice only mildly amuse him as he recounted her sins. A part of her wanted to cackle like a gremlin. She held no remorse for anything he uttered.

Oh the time for judgement is upon Lilith. Let us see what her sins may be. Oh this list is quite long, longer than most. Oh let’s see, notable ones on the list. Over one hundred counts of sexual acts with persons not wedded to you. Oh dear, not the saintly type I see. Oh, you have cursed my name 1,567,899 times in your life. Bravo! Oh! This one is my favorite, shall we look and see? Defying the Holy Creator’s word. There is so much more but let us put that aside for now. You have a body to get back to, hmm? I believe we both know where that soul is going. I would say what a shame to see you go, but balance is balance. The First Man an Angel, The First Woman a Sinner. Poetry.

Yeah right. Poetry her ass.

But she already knew from their previous encounters - their very first one, in fact, that she was created to be the counter balance of Heaven when it came to the human souls. He was telling her nothing new. Nothing she didn't already know.

She came to terms centuries ago that Hell was her home. It was where she belonged. There were no gags on her voice. Restrictions to her actions. Hell, to Lilith, was freedom.

Hell...was home.

Her soul was Hell bound and she embraced it, welcomed her fate. She had kept her beloved waiting long enough.

Surrounded by shadow, Lilith embraced her sins. She was a Queen of Hell. There was no shame, no regret in her words nor actions.

She had often been called the Queen of Monsters by God.

Is that how he saw her? Well, so be it. What's more title?

Lilith Morningstar, the Queen of Hell, Queen of Monsters, Mother of Sinners, Wife of Lucifer Morningstar and Mother of Charlotte Morningstar.

All titles she held close to her heart as she stepped forward from the shadows. Golden hues glowing as she gazed over Hell from above.

Her new demonic form mimicking her admiration towards serpents as she admired her new lavender skin tone. Interesting. She wore her favorite color. How kind of Hell to give her a shade that she adored.

Giving one glance around to get her barrings; Lilith noted that she was in the Cannibal District. Vines from flesh eating plants were spotted all along the sidewalks, cannibals preparing for battle while the grand hall behind her had doors that were rattling. Tendrils of flesh eating Eldritch beasts barely being kept in place. As much as she would love to help her people at the moment, Lilith had only one thing, well one person, on her mind.

Lucifer.

Flying upward, she makes haste back to their home, taking full advantage that the shadows increased her movement speed until she was close enough to the palace. She paused by the door. A little hesitant to enter but she pushed it open to see that Lucifer was curled up at her side of the bed.

Poor thing.

He was really going through it, wasn't he?

Well, she would ease his mind as best she could now. Crawling onto the bed beside Lucifer, she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, "My darling sweet love dove. Don't weep. I am here."

ll @hells-greatestdad ll

[karatekels]

TIGmas Day #1 - Person of Interest

Happy first day of TIGmas everybody! I’m so excited to finally start this off! This fic is for @virgo-mess, whose own writing has made me so happy! Thanks for being such a great part of the TIG community, virgo, and I hope you enjoy!

TW: semi-public sex (people definitely know what’s going on), graphic sex, gagging

---

Person of Interest

---

Reader’s POV:

“Turn right at the light,” you dictate from the passenger’s seat, and the driver nods, following your instructions. The two of you are on the way to your precinct’s annual Christmas party, and you have been really looking forward to it – it’s been months since you’ve seen your coworkers.

You and Jacob, your chauffeur for the evening, had been undercover for the past nine months, acting as a betrothed couple and scoping out jewelry stores that were part of an underground smuggling network. Jacob was from a neighbouring precinct, and you hadn’t known him before your assignment, but you had quickly become fast friends – and convincing paramours, though you were glad the latter part of your relationship could be dropped now that the necessary arrests had been made.

Jacob was tall, blond, and classically handsome, so it wasn’t that it was difficult to keep up the pretense of being attracted to him for that reason. But he was head-over-heels for his actual girlfriend, which had made things awkward more than once during your time undercover. You weren’t involved with anyone romantically prior to your assignment, and were almost grateful; you’re not sure it would have been possible for you to be so convincing if your heart belonged to someone else.

“What do you think your coworkers are going to think about our big news?” Jacob jokes, and you groan, trying once again to get the engagement ring off of your finger. It fit you a little too perfectly, and you had been trying in vain to get it off of your finger for days now. You really didn’t want to have it cut off – Jacob had been planning on proposing to his girlfriend with it on New Year’s Eve – but at this point you’re running out of options.

“I would hope that these people know me well enough that they won’t assume I disappeared for almost a year to go run off with some guy,” you reply, sticking your tongue out at him. “It’s the third house on the left.”

Jacob is still chuckling as he pulls the car over, parking across the street from the house – there were vehicles parked everywhere, letting you know that the party was likely in full swing. You’re feeling rather nervous as you exit the car; you’d only told the hostess of the party – the Captain’s wife, Charlotte – that you and Jacob were coming tonight. Everyone except the Captain still thought that you were away on your assignment, and hadn’t even been told what it entailed when you had left.

You approach the front door with Jacob, a few giftwrapped bottles of liquor bundled in your arms, and Jacob rings the doorbell. You take a deep breath, hoping that you’re welcomed back into the group with open arms.

Cash’s POV:

He’s already on his sixth beer… he thinks.

He wasn’t even planning on coming tonight, but Charlotte had cornered him a week ago and bullied him into accepting her oh-so-gracious invitation. He hadn’t been able to think of a viable excuse at the time and reluctantly gave in to the demands of the small, older woman. Just as well – he didn’t want to get on the Captain’s bad side anymore than he already was by upsetting his wife.

But truly, what was the point in having him here? He wasn’t particularly sociable amongst the other officers in the precinct; he had only been somewhat close with his partner, Y/N, but she had disappeared on some assignment ages ago without so much as a heads up to him.

His hand clenches his bottle tightly, to distract himself from the way his heart mirrors the action.

Y/N…

Cash knew that it was wishful thinking, hoping that you would show up here tonight, but he hadn’t been able to help himself. It’s been 273 days since you disappeared, and he’s missed you every single one of them. There had been other feelings, too – anger, hurt, and rejection among the most prominent – but he always went to bed praying that you were alright and would be back at your desk, right next to his, the next morning.

He takes another sip of his beverage, trying to wash the bitter taste from his mouth. Surely you could have told him something before you’d left, at least… but you hadn’t, and it stung.

He’d become something of a loose cannon since your abrupt departure. You’d always been the more level-headed one between you, and without you by his side to keep him rational, he’d gotten himself into trouble more than once, ultimately resulting in a brief suspension that hadn’t helped his brooding surliness.

The same brooding surliness he was displaying now, leaning against a wall by himself in the middle of a lively Christmas party, surrounded by lights and decorations and happiness.

He was starting to sound like the Grinch, even to himself.

There’s a knock at the door, and Cash briefly contemplates how many more people would need to show up for him to be able to slip away unnoticed. He couldn’t stand being around all this merriment, not feeling as low as he does.

“Y/N! You made it!” Charlotte’s voice is clear over the din of the party, and everyone seems to fall silent, surprised by the announcement of your arrival.

Cash’s heart leaps into his throat, but he doesn’t move from his place on the wall as the entryway is immediately crowded by others wanting to greet you. And why wouldn’t they? You possessed a downright magical degree of kindness, the type that was normally squashed out of everyone in your line of work relatively early on. But no, not you. You were the department’s shining light, always willing to go the extra mile for anything and anyone.

“Will you all back up already and let us breathe?!” he hears you snap at the throng of people, and he can’t help but crack a grin. Kind but cutting; just as he remembered.

The crowd parts, and as it does, Cash seems to replay your words in slow motion. Let us breathe, you had said?

And then he sees you, your sparkling dark green dress revealed as a lanky blond helps you remove your coat.

Cash sees red at the dazzling smile you give the other man, immediately forcing himself to move out of your line of sight, recognizing that he needs to get himself together now, before he puts a hole through one of the Captain’s walls.

You found someone?! he thinks to himself in anguish, downing the rest of his beer in an attempt to swallow the lump that has formed in his throat. You disappear out of the blue for nine months, before he can work up the courage to ask you out, and then come back with some moron wrapped around your finger?

He knows the sense of betrayal he’s feeling towards you is unjust, but he also knows that he doesn’t fucking care.

Whatever. You showing up with your boy toy gives him ample opportunity to slip away; you were perfect… the perfect distraction, that is.

Right.

He moves to loop around the lower level of the house to the front closet, looking for his coat.

“Hi, Cash.”

He jumps despite himself at the sound of your voice – how long has he been waiting to hear it, to hear his name coming from your lips? – and whirls around, looking down at you.

How dare you look up at him with such happiness in your eyes when you belong to someone else?

And you have the audacity to look radiant, too. He’s been wanting to see you for so long, thought about you so often that he notices every difference about you. You’re a little thinner after your time away, your hair quite a bit longer, but you’re still you, albeit dolled up and wrapped in sequined fabric that makes it even more difficult to look away from you.

“Y/N,” he replies to your greeting in a hoarse voice. Your smile fades for a moment, your brows creasing at his less-than-enthusiastic response, and he pushes past the pang of guilt that rings through his chest. No, this was your fault, not his.

“It’s so good to see you again!” you bounce back from his sour reaction quickly, all smiles as always. The honesty in your voice hurts him and leaves him confused.

“So you’re back, then?” he asks curtly, turning back to the closet to grab his jacket, throwing it over his arm. He can’t even look at you without getting butterflies in his stomach, for Christ’s sake…

“Yeah, the undercover part of the case is over. I’m back on Monday,” you offer weakly, clearly still perplexed by the way he’s acting towards you. “Are you leaving? I was hoping we could catch up…” your voice is sad as you reach up to put a hand on his arm. He tenses at the contact, abruptly turning to face you once again, and that’s when he sees it.

A fucking engagement ring on your finger, the large diamond at its centre practically winking at him as it sparkles in the Christmas lights.

He has to get away from you, right fucking now.

“Yeah, I am. Just need to thank the hosts,” he says abruptly, brushing past you without another word. He moves through the house, opening a random door tucked under the stairs and disappearing behind it, needing to calm down before he hits the road.

Reader’s POV:

You tamp down the hurt you’re feeling at Cash giving you the cold shoulder, returning to Jacob’s side where he’s talking to Charlotte. Sure, you had expected him to be a little mad at you for disappearing all of a sudden, but for him to be this upset really takes you by surprise. Cash was always a bit standoffish, but never cold, never cruel…

You try to push the thoughts of him aside for now, telling yourself you’ll straighten everything out come Monday.

“Y/N, there you are!” Charlotte exclaims, giving you another warm hug. You can’t help but give her a smile – she was like a surrogate mother to everyone in the precinct, occasionally doting on you all to the point of being overbearing, but always well-intentioned in her efforts.

“Here I am!” you reply cheerfully, trying to get back into the festive mood. “I see you’re getting to know my fake fiancé,” you add with a giggle, and Jacob preens at the title. He would be coming by regularly over the next few weeks as you worked on the reports and filing of evidence for the upcoming court case, and you figured this would be a good place to introduce him to your colleagues.

“Jacob is lovely; he was just telling me about Emily,” Charlotte replies with a fond smile for the younger man before she turns on you. “And when exactly do you plan on getting yourself a real fiancé of your own, hmm?” she teases, giving you a stern expression.

“I just got back after nine months, mom,” you respond, sticking your tongue out at her playfully. “You try finding a man who’s okay with this kind of work!”

“I already have,” she replies, looking across the room to her husband. You see their eyes meet; they still looked at each other like they were falling in love all over again, even after decades of marriage, and while the sight is heartwarming it also leaves you feeling empty. Would you ever have anything even close to that with someone?

“I don’t mean to pester you with favours on your first day back with us, Y/N, but could you head into the basement and grab a couple more bottles of red for me?” Charlotte asks with a pleading expression.

“Of course, ‘Lottie,” you reply with a friendly smile, heading towards the door under the stairs that she had pointed out to you. You open it, the stairs dark but the basement light on, and head down, hoping to avoid any spiders.

Instead, you find something much worse: Cash, looking furious.

“What the hell are you doing down here?” he demands, scowling at you, and you find your hurt at the way he’s treating you quickly being burned away by the anger you feel at his childish behaviour. You didn’t often lash out at people when you were frustrated, but Cash Ewing was well on his way to testing your patience and being on the receiving end of your ire.

“Charlotte asked me to grab some more wine. What are you doing down here? Get lost trying to find the front door? I thought you were leaving,” you sneer at him, walking past him to the wine rack and selecting a couple bottles of merlot. You don’t notice the intense way his eyes track you across the room.

“Why do you care whether I leave or not?” he snaps back, raising an inquisitive eyebrow at you. You roll your eyes at him dismissively, moving past him to head back upstairs. You’re not sure what had happened during your time away to make Cash so dismissive, so angry, but you aren’t going to let it get to you tonight.

“I don’t care, Cash. So sorry for interrupting your little brooding session; I’ll leave you to it,” you say with a sigh, marching up the stairs. Someone has closed the door to the basement since you’ve opened it, so you readjust the bottles of wine in your arms to grab the doorknob.

It doesn’t budge.

You try again, and again, eventually setting down the bottles on the step below you so that you can grab the knob with both hands, pulling and pushing and twisting to no avail. Frustrated, you start pounding on the door angrily with both fists.

“Hello?! HELLO?!” you call, trying to make yourself heard over the din of the party.

“What’s wrong? Can’t even open a door?” Cash’s amused voice cuts through your screaming and punching at the door. You whirl around angrily to face him, having forgotten just how quiet he could be, frustrated that you’re still having to look up at him even though he’s standing a couple stairs below you.

“Hey genius, it’s locked. You try to get it open, if you’re so smart,” you snarl at him, gesturing towards the door and pressing yourself against the wall to give him space to get to it. He takes care to elbow past you anyways, even though you had given him more than enough room, and you glare at his back as he tries the knob.

You bite your tongue to hide a smile as it doesn’t open, smugly enjoying Cash getting frustrated, pounding on the door himself. There’s movement at the door, and someone slips a folded piece of paper underneath the crack at the bottom of the door. Cash, tall and distracted by trying to break the door down, doesn’t notice, so you reach past his feet to grab it.

“Excuse me, Detective,” you say sarcastically, trying to get his attention. “We’ve been given a message,” you add once he turns, waving the piece of paper at him. His forehead creases in confusion, and you open the note, recognizing Charlotte’s handwriting and frowning at the words.

“It just says ‘Talk to each other – Figure it out’,” you inform him, growling when he snatches the piece of paper out of your hand to read it himself. Had Cash always been such a self-important, pompous asshole?

Ignoring him, you stomp back down the stairs, throwing yourself onto the old couch. You know enough about Charlotte to know that she’s serious about her meddling, and stubborn enough to not let you out until she was satisfied that you and Cash had… what? Mended your friendship? You don’t even know why he’s being so rude in the first place!

You hear Cash start to pound on the door again, grumbling curses to himself, and roll your eyes, crossing your arms over his chest and waiting him out.

…

Unfortunately, you imagine at least ten minutes have gone by, and he’s still trying to get someone’s attention. Clearly, your hopes that he would independently come to the conclusion that you both needed to listen Charlotte aren’t going to come to fruition.

“Are you really so scared of having a conversation with me, Cash Ewing?!” you call up to him mockingly, grinning to yourself when the banging immediately stops and you hear him start to stomp down the stairs. If there’s one thing that Cash hated, it was being called a coward.

You manage to rearrange your features into a neutral mask before he comes back into view, looking down at you on the couch with a severe expression.

“I would’ve thought you’d be more bothered, Y/N,” he hisses at you, his blue eyes bright in his anger. “It’s not exactly a good look, being locked away at a party with another man while your fiancé is in the next room.”

Your mouth falls open, and no sound comes out; all you can do is gape at him.

He makes no move to break the silence, glaring down at you, arms crossed and jaw clenched.

You burst out laughing, unable to help yourself as the reality of the situation hits you. Cash was acting like this because he thought you were with Jacob? Because he was jealous?!

Cash leans down, caging you against the couch with his strong arms and getting in your face.

“And just what exactly is so funny?” he snarls, his eyes locked with yours. Your laughter dies in your throat.

You shove him away from you angrily before answering; you had never let Cash intimidate you before, and you certainly aren’t about to start now.

“Jacob and I aren’t engaged, you moron,” you inform him coldly, crossing your arms again. He stares pointedly at the ring on your finger instead of offering a response, not denying that the issue of your relationship status is the reason why he’s acting like such a big, dumb baby.

“It’s stuck,” you admit with a chuckle. “We were undercover as a couple during our assignment, and I can’t get it off.”

Cash stares at you in silence, and you know him well enough to tell that he’s angry at himself right now, both for jumping to the wrong conclusion and for making his own feelings apparent in the process. Well, you certainly aren’t going to coddle him for it; he’s made you feel horrible all evening, when you’d been so excited to see him.

He’d been the first person you had searched for tonight, looking for him the moment that Charlotte had opened the front door. You’d missed him the entire time you had been away; you’re sure you talked about him to Jacob at least as much as he’d brought up Emily, maybe even more…

And when you had seen him tonight, all brooding good looks, the butterflies that you’d always felt around him came back tenfold. To know that he clearly feels the same way for you is such wonderful news.

But he’s made you feel like garbage tonight, and you don’t plan on letting that go lightly, reciprocated feelings be damned.

“I can’t believe you, Cash Ewing,” you hiss, glaring up at him defiantly. “You’ve been pissy with me all night because you’re jealous of Jacob? What gives you the right to be upset about me being in a relationship, huh?! We’ve been partners for years, and you’ve never said anything, but the first sign of me being with someone else and suddenly you’re acting lik–”

“Don’t,” he snarls, interrupting your rant, and your jaw snaps shut. So much for not letting yourself be intimidated by him…

“Where do you get off, speaking to me like that?” he seethes, his hands clenching into fists. “You disappear without a word for nine months, and then come back out of the blue with some random guy and a ring on your finger, and act like I’m not supposed to have feelings about it?!”

The jealousy looks good on him, especially when he’s dressed up for the party and out of his regular uniform. Dark dress pants, a crisp white shirt, and a blue tie that matches his eyes hanging loose around his throat… you feel yourself getting hot and bothered.

“And why, exactly, should you feel any sort of way about me being with someone else?” you snap, intent on getting a confession out of this stubborn, stupid man.

“You’re mine,” he growls possessively. You bite your tongue to keep up the façade, managing to keep your face neutral as you raise an eyebrow at him, though you’re sure you’re blushing terribly and giving yourself away.

“Who the hell do you think you are, Cash? I’m not yours; I don’t owe you anything!”

You’re intent on continuing to argue with him, but you notice that he’s stopped listening, his gaze on the ceiling above you. Irritated at his lack of focus, you tilt your head upwards to see what’s distracted him, and notice a wreath of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling above you. You fix him with another glare.

“Even now, you’re still looking around for a sign or for ‘the right time,’ instead of just being upfront and honest with me!” you scream incredulously. “You’re still scared of just acting on what you feel!”

You stand up, intent on moving away from him, from the mistletoe, from the whole situation, but he grabs your arm, pulling you against him firmly, his other hand grabbing your jaw and pulling you towards his face as he lowers your head to yours.

You make a half-hearted attempt to protest, but abandon that pursuit the instant his lips touch yours. His kiss is dominant, all-consuming, aggressive, and it makes your head spin and your toes curl. His hand moves down your arm to wrap around your waist, clutching you to him possessively, his other hand moving from your jaw to the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair as he turns your head to the angle he wants.

You’re briefly embarrassed by the desperate moan you let out from the intensity of the kiss, but Cash’s growl of approval makes you move past it quickly. Your hands, still crushed between your bodies, manage to grab hold of his shirt, pulling him towards you as you pour your heart and soul into the kiss.

You’d been attracted to Cash Ewing from the moment you laid eyes on him five years ago, and the crush had begun not long after that, but never in your wildest dreams (and there had been many involving him over the years) had you imagined that kissing him would feel so incredible.

Eventually, you two pull apart to catch your breath. The moment you do, you smack him in the chest, pushing him away from you.

“What makes you think you can just grab someone and –” you begin angrily, but Cash’s hand grips your chin and forces your jaw shut, his thumb over your lips.

“Shut up, Y/N,” he orders, eyes glittering down at you. “Just shut up for once. You want me to confess to you? Then you let me talk, and you listen.”

You blink up at him mutely, surprisingly even more turned on by him talking down to you like this.

“Y/N,” he begins, his voice husky as he murmurs your name, and you suppress a shiver at the sound. “I’ve wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you. I’m crazy about you. I love the fire in your eyes when you tell people off, and how you somehow still manage to be the sweetest, kindest person in the precinct. I love the way you bite the end of your pen when you’re thinking hard about something. I love the way you’re not afraid of anything, and the way you call me an idiot when I rush into situations without thinking. I’ve loved you for years, and all that’s been keeping me going while you’ve been gone is the knowledge that I was going to finally work up the courage to tell you the minute you got back.”

He takes a couple deep breaths once he finishes his confession – Cash rarely spoke so much all at once – and you’re completely speechless, even after he releases your face from his grip. He takes the opportunity to kiss you again, your body immediately returning the gesture, but as he guides you back towards the couch you force yourself to pull away so that you can push him down first.

Kicking off your heels, you climb onto his lap, your knees to either side of his hips. Cash purrs approvingly, his large hands coming up to your hips, but you slap them away until they lay obediently at his sides. His gaze is intense as you wrap your arms around his neck, resting your forehead against his and looking deeply into his blue, blue eyes.

“I love you, Cash Ewing, I have from the moment we met. I love the way you correct typos in my reports when you think I don’t notice, and the way your tongue sticks out when you’re upset. I love that I can read you like an open book even when you try to close yourself off from the world, and I love that I always feel safe when you’re around. I thought about you constantly over the past nine months, and dreamed about finally being with you as soon as I got back. Please don’t make me wait anymore,” you whisper the request needily against his lips, kissing him fiercely.

His hands are on you again immediately, gripping your hips before moving back to squeeze your ass. You roll your hips against his encouragingly, whimpering into the kiss, and bring your hands from the back of his neck down to his chest, immediately fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. Cash leans back, watching you undress him with a great deal of satisfaction, shrugging out of his shirt the instant you finish with the buttons.

You’ve never been particularly kinky, never even considered having sex where anyone could walk in on you at any moment – your coworkers, no less – but with Cash you find yourself wanting to do anything and everything. You pull him back towards you by the loose knot of his tie, kissing him hungrily as your fingers explore the hard contours of his chest. He responds with just as much passion, kissing you like he wants to swallow you whole, his hands everywhere as he feels you up over your dress.

You reach behind you, grabbing the zipper and pulling it down, the top of the dress falling to your waist. Cash’s blue eyes darken even further as they take in your cleavage, your breasts pressed together invitingly in a black push-up bra. He slides the straps down your arms, immediately pulling the bra down, the rough pads of his fingers immediately teasing your nipples. You toss your head back, moaning wantonly, and hear him let out a low chuckle before his mouth closes around a nipple, his tongue toying with the sensitive bud in a way that has you writhing against him.

He releases you after a moment, pulling you back towards his chest, a smirk on his face from the way you’re responding to him. You glower at him, and he offers you a pleased smile in return.

“Why’d you stop?” you demand, your voice whiny with need.

“Because if you moan any louder, someone will hear and come check on us,” he says smugly, his grin widening as you blush bright red. Huffing, you slide off his lap, trying not to pout as you tug your bra back into place. You reach behind you again to pull up the zipper on your dress, but before you can Cash has pounced on you, turning you around until you were on your knees, body pressed against the back rest of the couch. He presses your face against the cushions before pressing himself against your back, leaning down to speak in your ear.

“Are you going to be able to keep yourself quiet, or do you need my help?” he asks mockingly, pulling your bra fully off you this time. You shiver against him, already breathless with need, your hands coming up to grip the back of the couch tightly. You feel Cash still behind you, before he grabs your wrist, peeling you away from the back of the couch. You look up at him questioningly.

“I’m not fucking you while you’re wearing another man’s engagement ring, even if it’s all pretend,” he tells you in a low, gravelly voice.

“Then I guess you’re not fucking me at all,” you grumble, glaring at him. “I’ve tried for days, but it won’t come off, and I can’t cut it off – Jacob wants to give it to his girlfriend.”

Cash growls at the mere mention of Jacob, and you smirk at his jealousy rearing its head again. In response, he snatches up your left hand, staring at the ring on your finger intently for a moment. Between one blink and the next, he’s taken your finger into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the ring, and you gasp at the sensation. He locks eyes with you, his gaze heated as he sucks on your finger in a way that makes you whimper, feeling filthy from the depraved act.

With one last hard suck, his mouth making a lewd, wet noise that makes your clit throb with need, Cash pulls the ring off your finger with his teeth. Not moving his gaze away from you, he spits the ring into his palm and places it on the side table. You swallow, your mouth dry, unable to say a word. Instead, your hands dart out, sliding your fingers through his belt loops and tugging him towards you by his hips. He obliges, coming closer and wrapping his arms around you, slowly laying you down on the couch and covering you with his body.

You lift your head off of the cushions to kiss him, coaxing him with your tongue to get even closer, your hands reaching between you to remove his belt, a thrill running through you as your hand brushes up against his erection through his pants. Cash hisses into your mouth, his hands moving down your body to the hem of your dress before snaking their way up under it, his fingers squeezing your thighs possessively and making you squirm underneath him. He hooks two fingers into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your legs and off of you. In an act of pure depravity, he holds them to his face, breathing in deeply through his nose, his eyes locked with yours, and you groan at the sight, your eyes fluttering closed. You’re not sure you can take anymore of this…

A scrap of silk and lace, damp and musky, presses up against your mouth, and as your eyes snap open in your surprise, Cash stuffs your underwear into your mouth, gagging you with it. Rather than spitting curses at him the way you both likely anticipated you would at the action, you go limp, laying back against the couch without complaint, gazing up at him with wide, pleading eyes and your mouth full of your own underwear. You pant through the fabric, completely wild with lust, and Cash licks his lips, leaning back to unbutton his pants and free his hard cock. Your eyes hone in on his long, thick member, slightly curved and leaking at the tip, and let out a muffled moan of desire. You’ve never felt lust so intensely before; it feels like your body is going to burn up if you don’t get him inside you now.

Without a trace of shame or embarrassment, you spread your legs even wider to either side of his, hooking your feet around his butt and trying to pull him towards you, reaching down to pull up your skirt to your waist to join the rest of your dress. You absently notice that your vision is blurring with tears, both from the way your breathing is constricted and from your sheer need to have him.

“Fuck,” Cash breathes, leaning down to kiss your neck passionately, his hands running lightly up and down your sides. “I’ve thought about this moment for years, but never were you looking up at me as desperately as you are now.”

You give him another insistent moan, your legs fully locking around his hips and your arms thrown around his neck, stroking the short grey hair at the nape of his neck as you beg with your eyes. He looks deeply into your eyes, and you see nothing but lust and love for you in them before he moves to guide himself into you. The head of his cock slips through your slick entrance, stretching you out, and he buries his face into the crook of your neck, laving your neck and shoulder in kisses as he thrusts himself fully into your tight, wet heat.

The sound of his groan of pleasure in your ear sears itself into your memory, echoing your own muffled cry of soul-deep satisfaction. And then he starts to move his hips, and all conscious thought leaves you as you surrender yourself fully to just being in the moment with Cash. It’s the most all-encompassing feeling you’ve ever felt, the sense of completion you feel as you make love nearly overwhelming. It’s sweet and passionate, it’s quick and dirty, it’s perfect.

“Y/N,” Cash moans in your ear, the sound of him saying your name like that almost making you come undone. “Finally. You’re finally mine,” he whispers, nuzzling into your hair as he moves above you, hips pumping a slow deep rhythm as his hands roam your body greedily, possessively. You tighten your hold on him, wordlessly letting him know that you feel the same way as you whine through your makeshift gag, clinging to him desperately as you move your hips to match his thrusts.

He lifts himself off of you enough to rest his forehead on yours, staring deeply into your eyes as he quickens his pace. You notice a wicked gleam in his eye, and brace yourself for some evil trick.

“You’re gonna come for me, sweetheart,” he hisses against your lips, eyes bright as your body clenches around him in response. “You’re gonna come so hard around my cock, and then I’m taking you home with me so I can make you do it again and again, without you needing to be kept quiet,” he teases, roughly inserting a few of his fingers into your mouth, choking you deliciously with your panties. The dirty talk and rough treatment make your eyes roll into the back of your head, and you fight your body telling you that you were getting close. If you let him win now, this first time, you’d never hear the end of it.

With strength you didn’t know you had, you throw yourself off the couch, rolling onto the carpeted floor and bringing Cash with you, managing to get him on his back underneath you. His surprise is evident on his face, but his expression immediately morphs into one of pleasure as you sink back onto his cock, riding him hard and fast. Lifting one hand from his chest, you pull your underwear from your mouth and press them to his lips with your fingers. He lets out a groan of arousal as you take charge, looking up at you with fascination and awe.

“I’m going to ride you until you can’t remember your own name, Cash Ewing,” you tell him in a husky voice, gyrating your hips in circles and making his grip on your waist tighten as you hit an angle that has both of you moaning. Keeping yourself there, you both work to bounce your body up and down on his cock, you covering his mouth with your underwear and him reaching up to cover your mouth with a large hand, muffling your noises of pleasure as you try to get the other to reach their peak first.

In the end, it’s pretty close, and you already know that you’ll both go to your graves swearing the other person came first. Either way, your orgasm washes over you like a powerful wave, Cash pinching your nose as the rest of his hand clamps over your mouth to try to keep you relatively quiet, even as he lets out a loud grunt as he releases deep inside of you. Once you both manage to keep quiet, Cash releases your mouth and spits your panties up at you, giving you a sinful smirk before guiding you to lay down against his chest, stroking your hair gently. As much as you would love to relax and curl up with him, the thought of getting walked in on post-coital and spread out on your boss’s basement floor has you fighting temptation and forcing yourself up and off Cash, batting away his hands as they try to keep you in place.

“Where are you going?” Cash asks, a twinge of vulnerable desperation in his voice that makes your heart melt. You’d apologize for not telling him about going undercover eventually, but not now.

“We have to get out here,” you explain, taking in his nude form spread out on the carpet with an appreciative gaze. He sighs, looking up at you wistfully before sitting up, making a show of pocketing your sodden underwear. You roll your eyes, pulling your bra back into place and zipping up your dress, trying not to appear too dishevelled. When you turn back to Cash he’s fully dressed, fiddling with his tie. You walk up to him almost shyly, reaching up to fix the knot until it’s laying properly against his shirt. He smiles down at you fondly, trying to smooth your hair down before giving up and settling for giving you a sweet, (relatively) chaste kiss.

“I just have to give Charlotte the wine and get Jacob his ring back, and then I’m all yours,” you promise, bending to put your shoes back on. These heels were already hard enough to walk in, but now you have to deal with being weak in the knees on top of everything.

“I’ll give loverboy his ring back,” Cash says, snatching it off the table before you can grab it for yourself. “Time to introduce myself and let him know where he stands,” he jokes, giving you a wink and heading for the stairs. You snatch up the bottles of wine and hurry after him, trying not to trip.

“You better be nice to him, Cash Ewing!” you hiss up the stairs at him, hearing him chuckle in response.

“The door’s open; you should wait a couple minutes before coming out or it’ll look suspicious,” he offers in reply, slipping out before you can protest. He did have a point, you suppose…

You give it a couple of minutes before sneaking up the stairs, trying to blend into the party without looking too guilty… or rumpled…

You find Charlotte right where you’d left her, and place the bottles of wine on the bar behind her.

“Thank you, Y/N. I hope they weren’t too difficult to find – you were gone for quite awhile,” she says knowingly with a bright smile. You force yourself to return the gesture, feeling your face flush. Nosy, manipulative woman… but you suppose you should thank her.

“No, the problem was that sticky doorknob,” you reply with a frown.

“Ah, well… things like that can be stubborn, but eventually they open up. Wine?” she offers innocently, positively beaming at you now.

“No, thank you. I’m actually going to head out, Charlotte – it’s still a lot for me to be around big groups of people after my time away,” you say, the excuse only partly a lie. You are finding it difficult being in a crowd without feeling the need to constantly look over your shoulder.

“Alright, dear. Well, it was lovely to see you again,” the older woman says kindly, cupping your cheek fondly.

“Do you think Cash would want some wine?” A voice chimes in, and Jacob appears suddenly, joining your conversation. You don’t say anything, but your mouth falls open as you watch him and Charlotte looking at you with identical wicked smiles and laughter in their eyes. So, they had been colluding, working together to lock you and Cash in the basement… this was a dangerous pair that you would need to keep an eye on.

But not tonight.

You scan the room, finding Cash standing head and shoulders above most everyone else, his blue eyes already on you. Flashing him a shy, flirty smile, you tilt your head in the direction of the front door, and he winks at you, immediately moving to the foyer. You bite your lip to keep a smile from breaking out across your face, looking back to Jacob and Charlotte guiltily.

“I don’t think so,” you reply to Jacob’s earlier question, and he rolls his eyes.

“Ugh, get out of here already! If I have to listen to you talk about Cash Ewing one more time…” Jacob warns, shooing you away with a wry grin. You dodge his hands, darting past them to wrap him up in a quick hug before doing the same to Charlotte.

“Thank you, you meddling little jerks,” you tell them both earnestly. “I’ll see you Monday!”

You move through the crowd, waving at everyone that gives you a friendly nod or greeting, eventually making your way to the foyer where Cash is waiting, your coat over his arm. He helps you into it, bundling you up quickly.

“What’s the rush, Officer?” you tease, doing up the buttons on your coat. You bite back a gasp as you feel his hand slip beneath your coat and dress, wandering up your thigh. “Cash!” you hiss, your eyes darting around to make sure that no one is watching.

“There’s a person of interest I’ve had my eye on for awhile,” he replies cheekily, patting his pocket where he had put your underwear. “I believe I made her some promises earlier in the evening that I intend to make good on,” he leers down at you, his gaze heated. You find it hard to breathe.

He takes your hand in his, the gesture as comfortable and natural as breathing to you, and pulls you towards the front door and out into the cold night.

---

[Just FYI, it’s canon that Cash bought the ring from Jacob and kept it to propose to you with when the time came; it meant more to the two of you]

[quinloki]

Birthday Request Event

"It's my birthday and I'll write what I want to \o/"

Gift Details ♥ Reader: AFAB GN Character: Charlotte Katakuri Kink: #1 - Merinthophilia Prompt: Birthday Captain's Choice Gift Giver: @mewiyev

Summary: It's taken years to build up trust with Katakuri, but now you can give your beloved the TLC he desires. With about 500ft of main sail rigging rope.

Content Notes: submissive Katakuri, bondage, soft dom reader, drool, non-penetrative sex, size difference, 18+ only

This birthday party is 18+, consensual unless explicitly stated otherwise, and BYOB

( I was very much inspired by this art by Mew - no less - but you're gonna need to prove you're old enough to see it https://twitter.com/nsfmxw/status/1668804754825158660 ♥ )

The ropes used to bind Katakuri were better suited to main sail rigging than what you’d generally use for bondage, but given the size difference, they worked well. Your impressively sized partner had tied himself up to a certain extent, and acquiesced when you ordered him around for the rest.

Now he was on display for you, ropes crossing his broad chest in a lattice harness pattern, arms bound behind his back. The black rope was beautiful against his skin, letting his tattoos peek from behind the dark color. Blood rushed through his cheeks and chest, as he sat on his heels, knees spread wide.

It had taken more than a couple years for the two of you to reach this level of intimacy. He was hesitant to be anything other than the Perfect Charlotte, even after you had been together for some time. Candid conversation from you had helped wear down the walls, and eventually you had been providing him with an outlet he didn’t know he needed.

The ropes couldn’t hope to hold him if he truly desired to be free, but the restriction they provided was enough. Enough to make his breath come out hot and rough while the custom bit kept his mouth forced open.

The gag had been the real show of trust from him, and you knew it. Not only did it stop him from hiding his mouth, but it kept him from trying to keep his image up despite the ropes.

It’s hard to look stoic and in control when you’re drooling down your own chin and onto your chest.

You knew how much the setup affected him. His massive cock had been hard and twitching for the past twenty minutes as you’d added the last few feet of rope, pulling him into his current position. The soft grunts that passed the bit prompted you to kiss him as you finished tying him up, and the soft acknowledgements of the sounds made him twitch and flinch.

Standing in front of him, catching his gaze with your own, you begin to strip. Your movements are fluid, but slow and pointed. You’re teasing him as you slowly discard each item, using a single finger to pull your socks off, and then turning around to play coy as you removed your pants. The approving grunt makes you smile as you walk over to him.

Usually you’d talk to him, touching his body, teasing the lines of his tattoos with your fingers and mouth. Reveling in every twitch and grunt, but tonight you had something else in mind.

Pouring oil onto his cock you begin to coat the twitching member. You’re rougher than usual, pressing your body against him and pumping him against yourself with your hands.

His whole body shivers from the initial pleasure and you can hear the thick ropes groaning against his strength. His voice tumbles from his mouth like wet gravel, full of heat and desire that rumbles in his chest as much as it fills the room. Precum bubbles up from his tip, almost enough to make you wonder if he didn’t just nearly orgasm.

“Kata, my love, don’t cum yet.” You chide gently, even though you don’t ease up on your actions, causing more of the thick liquid to pool and dribble.

“Don’t cum until I give you permission my sweet,” You lean down and lick his tip and hear a garbled swear nearly shatter in his throat. “Kind,” you suck the tip and squeeze his shaft and hear his skin squeak against the tile floor as he jerks. “Gentle, Ka~ta~kuuuu~ri.”

You punctuated each syllable of his name by swirling your tongue around his tip.

He curls forward at the action, hunched over and looking at you with pleading eyes. Your name falls from his lips in broken pieces, followed by a shivering plea.

“Awww, struggling already, my love?” You tease, stepping forward enough to smear the drool on his chin across his jaw before licking along his bottom lip. “My handsome Kata is so beautiful like this. In all the ways no one else ever gets to see.” You purr.

Grabbing onto the rope harness to steady yourself you straddle his lap, rubbing your ass against the base of his cock. The position puts you almost at face level with Katakuri, even as he straightens up a little to help balance you. You put your weight on his thighs, keeping yourself balanced with the rope harness he’s wearing, and begin to grind your hips along his length.

“What a – mmm – good boy you are.” You purr, running your fingers through his short hair before you caress the side of his cheek. You move your hips in longer strokes, squeezing your thighs together and enjoying the shivers of pleasure as his twitchy, veiny, hot shaft teases your clit and folds so sweetly.

“You won’t cum, hngh…” Your fingers tighten on the harness, pressing yourself into the ropes crossing his abs as you push your hips out to his leaking tip. “Not without me, right?”

He shakes his head, his breath almost coming out in growls as his hips shift to match your movements, pressing himself into your slit more. He’s been on edge since he started lacing himself into the initial harness, and now, almost an hour later he almost needs haki to keep himself under control.

Your voice, your touch, the way you caress him as though he’s delicate, the soft purr in your words as you take control of his body. It sinks into his bones the way the resistance from the ropes sends shivers through his core. He’d pull the world apart at the behest of that gentle purr.

“Ah, Kata!” You cry, the pleasure building in you as you tighten your thighs against his slick cock. The thick veins are perfect as far as you’re concerned. Your arms tremble as you loose your hold on the harness and grab his chest.

“C-Cum!” You demand, your voice filled with pleasure and exertion. “Cum for me, Kata.” You purr the words, lips and teeth teasing one sensitive nipple as your hand stretches to tease the other.

Kata’s rough, panting growls shatter into gravel-laden whimpers as his body bucks into your thighs with less control than he had a moment ago. The ropes groan and dig into his skin as his body tenses rock hard against you. The sounds of his orgasm are enough to push you over your own edge, and you soak his cock in your pleasure as you hear the thick rush of his cum splatter against the cold tile floor.

“Haa… haa -fuck.” You swear, working to catch your breath as you lean into him while he sinks back down onto his heels. You stand on his thighs so you can remove the bit, kissing him along the line of his jaw tenderly.

“Good job.” You say, praising him, as he shifts and kisses you sweetly.

Check out the event - requests are accepted until 7/31/2023 EST

[count-alucard-tepes]

Your fav OP Hotties reaction to when their S/O’s fav food is the OP Hotties least fav/hated food

So I know that Oda has already given their favorite and least favorite food but I'll try and elaborate based on my opinion of them and western and eastern cuisines.

Kizaru✨

He likes tempura quite a bit even though it's not food for anyone's health really but he does enjoy it from time to time. Especially if its shrimp! Have this prepared for him and he will tell you all the naughty secrets of the marines. He dislikes anything too spicy but sometimes he tries Akainu's cooking and then he's in pain for a couple of hours later. So when he finds out his S/O likes spicy food, he doesn't mind at all and would usually go to a restaurant where both of them could enjoy their favorite meals.

Akainu🌋

He has a sweet tooth and tends to always have something sweet after his lunch as he can over indulge at times. His favourite dessert is an speculaas tart with almond filling which was introduced to him when he was travelling as a young marine, its not too sweet but it just hits the spot for him. If you ever want to calm him down and make him happy, bring him a large tart and he won't burn you. He dislikes durians and can't get over the smell, it's too much for him. He would lecture his S/O about only eating the fruit outside of the house because of the smell and to brush their teeth immediately after.

Ryokugyu🌱

He loves good Southern spicy fried chicken with gravy and mashed potatoes. This is something he would eat when he breaks his fast and he's gonna eat all he can! He dislikes chocolate muffins, they make his teeth ache. He would lecture his S/O about how much sugar is in the muffin and how bad that is for their body.

Sir Crocodile 🐊

He loves creamy chicken Italiano and eats this on a weekly basis out of his regular diet. He enjoys pasta from time to time but is pretty strict with his health and does not indulge too much. He dislikes any dish that has a tomato based sauce despite liking tomatoes, it gives him heart burn. He wouldn't really mind his S/O eating it as long as he doesn't have to eat it.

Doflamingo Donquixote🦩

He likes all kinds of seafood and enjoys having fresh oysters for breakfast every morning with a bit of hot sauce and freshly squeezed lemon juice. He never truly feels awake until he has his oysters. He dislikes fried chicken as he thinks it's way too heavy for him, he likes to keep his sexy body all year long. He would tell his S/O that it's not healthy for the body and that they should find alternative healthier options.

Benn Beckman🔫

He enjoys sushi and sashimi. He usually goes somewhere he could enjoy a meal by himself as there was a time where he didn't know how to eat wasabi and almost saw Kami-San. Shanks never let this down so he now just goes alone. He dislikes coffee ice cream and thinks it's an abomination. He would watch his S/O with a frown before commenting that it looks like baby's poop just to piss his S/O off.

Katakuri Charlotte🍡

He loves having barbecues with his brothers and sisters and of course he's the one in charge at the grill. He makes burgers, hot dogs and lots racks of ribs which he marinates by himself. He could eat barbecued meat forever and be content. He dislikes matcha flavoured desserts, he thinks they're gross. He would cringe as he watched his S/O eat but wouldn't comment or anything like that.

Killer🔪

He enjoys a full Scottish breakfast with eggs, bacon, baked beans, black pudding, scones, tomatoes, mushrooms and haggis all with a nice cup of tea. Usually after eating all of this, he goes into a food coma but he's happy as ever. He dislikes any kind of cheese, he's lactose intolerant. He would make gagging sound when his S/O eats it and would say they have cheese breath.

Kaido🐉

He likes a good helping of tonkatsu with rice and curry as well as an omelet over it. It is his comfort food and he could eat it several times a week. He dislikes edamame and if anyone serves him this would never hear the end of it. He would glare at his S/O and tell them to eat it somewhere else because it smells terrible.

King👑

He really loves eating crabs, especially crab legs. He usually has it with a spicy sauce and rice. When ever Queen wants him to approve something, he treats him with several kilograms of crab legs and he gets the approval he needs. He dislikes cheesy sauces, he thinks its gross on seafood and just doesn't generally like it. He would look at his S/O in disapproval but wouldn't say anything in case he got them mad for something they liked.

Queen 👑

He loves eating roasted pork belly with all the condiments he can have. He doesn't really care much about his health so he tends to eat large amounts of it all the time. He dislikes fruity desserts, he doesn't like fruits in general. He would laugh and say things like, 'you don't need to watch what you eat, love! You're perfect!'.

[zairas-realm-gateway]

when bege met with sanji, he specifically said that he would be marrying the 35th daughter of the charlotte family AND says her name is pudding. he has a nasty history of being perverted towards teenage girls after the timeskip (he literally Turns To Stone upon seeing shirahoshi, who is only 16) and his attitude with pudding is no exception (she even comments on his perversion during the wedding ceremony. there was no "brainwashing" involved, he is just a perv.)

im a sanji fan myself, but you can't turn a blind eye from his behavior towards teenage girls. he is 21 years old in canon after the timeskip. pudding being "mentally 18" is such a gross way to explain why sanji might view her as older than she really is and as someone who was groomed by a pedophile for acting older than i actually was at the time, that phrasing sets off so many red flags in my head.

im not necessarily saying sanji is a pedophile (because i truly dont believe that he is given his attraction to All women and 16 is the lowest age hes acted like that towards), but it is still extremely weird of him and people making fun of him or criticizing that aspect of him is perfectly fine and you shouldn't take it as a personal thing. that is just how oda wrote him. (but hey at least he's not kyros or vander decken who genuinely ARE pedophiles.)

You make some good points.

Alright, I'll take the correction on Bege telling him her name. But that still doesn't give any other details. Sanji isn't told her age, occupation, baking skills, etc.

I have a lot to say on his intricate and nuanced forced relationship with Pudding.

Long post and discussion under the cut

As for for the history with teenage girls post-ts, I think it's just Shirahoshi??? And while I'm not saying that's good, I will say that I am conflicted on some of the characterization in Fishman Island. I haven't read it in a long time so I'm just working off what I remember here. While the plot of Fishman Island is great, I always have some issues with the arc itself. It always feels a little off to me. Like some of the characterizations are just a little wonky here and there throughout the entire arc. It feels like Oda forgot how to write a few characters. It also feels like he's using that arc to see how far he wants to push new gags or personality aspects he's trying to work with after the IRL mini timeskip. Like he doesn't quite know just yet who some of the straw hats are after their time skip. I'm not saying that excuses Sanji's behavior, I'm just saying it makes me conflicted over the legitimacy of Sanji's personality in that arc. Because like Oda doesn't use the "almost die from bloodloss gag" again after fishman island either so it just always kinda feels like Oda was fumbling around in the dark with Sanji (as well as a few others) in Fishman Island. That's just me, though.

As for Sanji being obsessed with Shirahoshi's beauty, wasn't that like the whole thing with her? Wasn't like the entire country obsessed with how pretty she was? I could be mistaken but I thought I remember the citizens being enamored by her as well. I ain't saying it makes it better, I'm just saying that Oda made that a weird prominent detail if I'm remembering it right.

And I didn't say that that Pudding was "mentally 18" nor do I think she is, I said that she could be mistaken for 18 in a quick meeting. Meaning he wouldn't question her age as he actually barely got to talk to her at all. I think he only ever spoke to her like 2-3 times and never for very long or unchaperoned (judging by how Pudding talked about Sanji). Especially since Pudding is an excellent actor and is actively manipulating Sanji in a specific way that Big Mom has coached her to do. Neither family cared if Sanji and Pudding liked each other or cared about what was healthy for them so they would have no reason to let them interact for very long. As someone who was emotionally abused by my mother, when I was a teenage I took on personality traits and speaking patterns of someone older than myself (a common problem with emotional abuse). People often mistook me for being older than I actually was in short conversations. If Sanji never had any actual long conversations with Pudding, he'd have no clue that's she's not actually 18. While this doesn't make things right, it would explain some behaviors.

He doesn't actually want anything to do with her. He just wants to go home.

As for what I consider Sanji basically brainwashing himself is just him talking himself into an obsessive and possibly dissociative mindset. Sanji's under so much duress and his mental health is so incredibly fractured right now that if he's going to survive, his only option is to construct a dreamworld so far out of reality that he's actually happy and in love with Pudding.

Because of the sudden influx of trauma, stress, and crippling hopelessness, Sanji's grasp on reality is quickly crumbling. He needs to take any handhold he can grab. The only handhold he's allowed to take is Pudding. He calls her his "Ray of Hope". And because of this, he throws himself so hard into her orbit that he goes to the extreme of being creepy because now his only grasp on reality is Pudding.

This protective delusional headspace he's in is so strong (again, common for people who have suffered severe trauma and abuse) that he stays in it until he sees her eye. Because he if didn't have this headspace to keep him "calm" beside his would-be murderer, the wedding ceremony on the cake may have ended in actual disaster. And all their plans would be ruined.

After he gets through to Pudding by calling her eye beautiful, the very real danger of him being murdered is gone and he's released from his protective headspace. Which explains why he's so platonic towards her during the escape and all the cake baking despite the fact that she's constantly melting when he even looks at her.

What I am saying is that if Sanji called out for simping on teenage girls was a definable trend in his personality, why is he never all over Carrot? From what I remember (and I could be wrong), he only ever treats her like a little sister. She's young and pretty but still in Zou Sanji simps over the adult women minks rather than Carrot, despite her platonically being all over him (minks are just very affectionate). Hell, he seeks out Pedro more than Carrot.

I'm not saying that Sanji shouldn't be called out for being a fucking perverted idiot. Because he is one. I'm just saying that it pisses me off when people write him off as a one-note creep not worth thinking about instead of taking the time to understand that Sanji is extremely nuanced far outside his single trait of being horny.

I will say that Sanji can be creepy but I don't get the vibe from him about being an active creep specifically towards teenage girls. Especially since he seems to prefer more mature women like Robin, Kiku, Viola or frightening women like Nami.

As for me taking things personally and getting physically ill. That's just me being stupid and having severe rejection sensitivity when it comes to Sanji. I wish it'd go away.

I think it all boils down to Oda having sus choices in character ages... It would have changed literally nothing if he had just made Pudding 18.

[bb-editing]

ROXANA (Chapter 15)

Lanche Agriche considered various factors when considering prospective wives. He didn’t seem to have a type, however- there was hardly a trait common enough to be present in every Agriche wife.

Their beauty ranged from strong, powerful beauties to fair, blue-eyed women like my mother, and their personalities varied from quiet and passive to hot-tempered lioness.

In the end, I concluded that Father welcomed any type of woman, with talents in any field, as if he were conducting a myriad of genetic experiments.

However, my mother likely caught his attention because of her beauty. It may be rude of me, as her daughter, to say this, but her appearance is her only strength. When I was eight, for example, I was spared from punishment by wearing an off-white dress that closely resembled my mother- her appearance, as well as her angelic virtues.  

Of course, I liked her gentle disposition and affectionate heart, but that alone would never suffice in a household like this. I knew what she resembled, and I feared associating with her further would soften me.

So I took Jeremy back to his room, and headed for Cassis’.

When I was young, I used to be more attached to Jeremy, but when he’d started clinging to me after his mother’s death, I decided to distance myself from him- I didn’t need another weakness.

* * *

“Their treatment seems to be bare minimum.”

I studied Cassis’ condition and he narrowed eyes. He was still bound and gagged; while his major wounds had healed, his minor ones had been left untreated.

I moved closer to observe his wrists and ankles; the skin beneath the restraints had chafed and peeled off.

The slightest shift of his arm would cause the chain of his ankle cuffs to rattle; every restraint was short and connected, and the small room only increased the pitiful nature of his confinement. At least it’s better than the dungeon.

I removed the gag from Cassis’ mouth, and while I was unable to remove his cuffs, I was satisfied with applying the medicine to and bandaging his wrists, ankles, and other wounded body parts.

Haa… the Agriche treatment of their toys is really too much.

After finishing his treatment, I gazed at Cassis’ face as he slowly lost consciousness. He had such a gentle face, and I felt extremely guilty about the way the Agriche had spoiled such a pure face. Maybe we do deserve to disappear. I sighed and leaned against the wall.

I was a little drained from thinking so much these days, though I wasn’t sure if it was because I was constantly on the lookout for news about Cassis, or if I was just generally nervous about the death flags Father was accumulating.

I glanced over at Cassis; he looked more pitiful than usual, with his body looking lifeless on the floor and covered in scars. Then I moved over and placed his head in my lap.

I felt sorry for neglecting him before. He must have been such a beloved, respected part of the Pedelian family. No one would’ve doubted the kind of glorious future he had ahead of him. It was sad that he had to meet such an early end in the novel.

Jeremy was a despicable villain in the novel, but there was still a part of him that harboured a blind, desperate love for Sylvia. So he let slip what he knew about Cassis- that he had died at Agriche- to Sylvia, who had been kidnapped three years later.

The severity of Cassis’ torture was not described in the novel. Well, we both have dark futures ahead… Maybe we were both destined to die young.

“But I don’t want to die.”

If I failed to help him escape House Agriche, then I would have to prevent Jeremy from kidnapping Sylvia. No, it would be better if they never met in the first place. Of course, I could worry about that later. I moved my hand unconsciously to stroke Cassis’ head as if he were Jeremy. In that moment, I felt more peace- I also felt as if Cassis were truly mine.

There were siblings who shared toys, of course, but Charlotte and Jeremy’s possessiveness did not allow them to follow such practices.

I would need to keep up appearances to convince Father that I was capable of using Cassis on my own.

“That’s weird,” I whispered, looking down. Why was Cassis’ hair so soft? It wasn’t like he had the time or opportunity to wash it. It feels like he’s just gotten out of a bath.

It was as soft as Jeremy’s, despite the fact that Cassis had spent more than a week in a dank and dirty dungeon, while Jeremy lived a comfortable, pampered life in House Agriche.

He would have been whipped often, with minimal food or sleep- let alone time to bathe. His bloody body is sufficient evidence of that.

Once again, Cassis’ appearance felt… dissonant. His hair felt soft, he didn’t smell bad…

As I sat muttering to myself, I felt Cassis’ head move slightly under my hand. If I hadn’t been touching his head, I wouldn’t have noticed.

Is he awake now?

[pagesfromthevoid]

Whatever the Poets Say | b.b. | Epilogue

Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: Tooth aching fluff

Author’s Note: This is it. The end. I’m so proud of this story 🥹

Series Masterlist | Talk to Me!

6 Months Later

Queen Charlotte’s eyes darted back and forth, reading the book in front of her intently. Her expression gave nothing away; there was no way to tell if she liked what she was reading or if she hated it. And truly, that was the most anxiety inducing part of it all. However, she refused to show her stress.

In the Queen’s hands was a copy of Whatever the Poets Say, written by an Anonymous Young Woman. Though, it was no longer all that anonymous given that the Queen –and her cohorts –all sat with the author in the room. However, the author now was not the timid, shaking girl she was when the Queen first met her months ago. Now, Mrs. Bridgerton sat confidently in front of her Queen, sipping her tea with a sly grin on her face as the Queen finally slammed the book shut.

If the Queen of England liked her writing before, there was plenty of hope that she would like it now as well.

Mrs. Bridgerton set her tea down on the table beside her, leaning back in her seat. Her grin had turned into a soft smile, waiting for the criticism that she knew would be coming. But Queen Charlotte just smirked.

“I am in need of a biographer,” she said simply.

Mrs. Bridgerton furrowed her brows. “Excuse me?”

“I need a biographer, Mrs. Bridgerton. Must I repeat myself again?”

She quickly shook her head, sitting up straight. Any confidence she once had had disappeared, and was replaced by confusion. “No, your Majesty. I just…You want me to write your biography?”

“I want someone with a keen eye and a way with words. You happen to have both.” The Queen waved dismissively. “You will be compensated for your work, of course.”

Mrs. Bridgerton broke out into a smile and she stood, bowing to the Queen now. “Yes, of course. I-I would be honored to tell your story, your Majesty. More than honored, truly.”

Queen Charlotte’s smirk turned soft, and she shooed her cohorts out of the room. When the door shut, leaving the two women alone, the Queen stood before Mrs. Bridgerton. “You are far more useful to me here than you are as the lady of the house. I do hope your husband does not mind me keeping you during the day.”

“Benedict will surely understand, my Queen,” she reassured, hands behind her back now. “He knows well what I want to do with my life –he will not stand in the way of it.”

“How refreshing,” the Queen hummed, turning now to walk to the window. “A gentleman who wants his wife to work.”

“A gentleman who wants his wife to be happy,” she corrected softly, watching her for a moment. “And this…this is an opportunity one cannot ignore.”

“It’s not, is it?”

                                           *****

“Where have you been all day!” Eloise yelled as she slipped into the Bridgerton family home. 

The two had been invited over to dinner with the Lord and Lady Bridgerton, though Benedict had rolled his eyes when the invitation arrived so prettily written. She couldn’t help but laugh at the idea that Kate had made Anthony write a formal invite to dinner.

“I was in town,” she explained simply. It wasn’t a lie, technically.

“What did I say about becoming a better liar?” Benedict asked, stepping out of Anthony’s study with a grin. His hand found her’s without a moment's hesitation. 

“I’m not lying,” she insisted, rolling her eyes. “I am simply omitting details. I was in town, though.”

Benedict pressed a kiss to her cheek, and Eloise gagged playfully. “Just you wait until you find your match –then you won’t be gagging at the sight of love,” he teased.

“I need to speak to your wife,” Eloise insisted, pushing him aside and taking her sister-in-law’s hand. “Privately.”

Before Benedict could argue, Eloise pulled his wife into the sitting room –where Edwina and Kate both sat.

Holding her book.

“Oh dear.”

“‘Oh dear,’ indeed,” Edwina teased, crossing her arms with a smirk. “I thought I was going crazy, reading the book.”

“As did I,” Kate agreed, brow raised as she flipped through her book. “I kept reading it, and thinking, ‘This sounds rather familiar.’”

“Oh yes, and then of course, Elric tells the King of France that the main character is a gossiper…that is when I knew,” Eloise pointed at her now, eyes narrowed. She seemed less entertained by the whole thing. “A little warning would have been nice!”

“I did not think you would read it,” Mrs. Bridgerton defended, putting her hands up while she felt a blush creep up her cheeks. “Truly, I did not even know it was on the shelf yet –the Queen had a copy, but I assumed the Queen just had everything first –,”

“What do you mean, the Queen had a copy?” Edwina asked, eyes going wide.

“Is that why you were in town?” Eloise continued, not letting her a word in.

“The Queen loves gossip more than any of us,” Kate hummed, rolling her eyes.

Mrs. Bridgerton took a moment to let the ladies chat, then shook her head. “The Queen…she wanted me to finish the story, remember? When Eloise told her I was Whistledown…She read the book when it was published.”

“Well, did she like it?” Eloise demanded, eyes wide with excitement, having forgotten her annoyance.

Mrs. Bridgerton nodded. “She asked me to be her biographer. She…gave me a job.”

The three ladies stared in surprise, clearly failing at producing a coherent sentence outside of, “Really? “Oh my goodness,” and “Bloody hell.” It was a far better reaction than she anticipated, though she didn’t think anyone would react negatively to the news.

“I haven’t told Benedict yet, which I’d very much like to do now –,”

“Yes, yes of course. Go tell him –that is so exciting!” Edwina exclaimed, standing up and hugging her now. “I am very jealous, honestly.”

“As am I,” Eloise hummed, though she still seemed a bit frustrated. “I am still mad at you however.”

“Why on earth are you mad?”

“Because you let me read…read smut about my brother!”

Mrs. Bridgerton considered, for a moment, Eloise’s plights. Then she just laughed. “Was it at least good smut?”

“I hate you,” Eloise seethed, throwing her hands in the air. She repeated the phrase over and over as her sister-in-law slipped out the door with a laugh.

Benedict was leaning against the wall, as if he had been there waiting the entire time she was with the ladies.

“Do you not have something else to do while I am busy?” She teased, taking his arm when he offered it. 

“I have plenty to do,” he replied, guiding them towards the back doors and into the gardens. “I just have not seen you all day –I missed you.”

“You will need to get used to that, then, I suppose.”

“Used to what?”

“Missing me during the day.”

They stopped at the steps of the house, and he looked down at her with his brow raised. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…I have been given a job. With the Queen.”

Benedict’s face lit up with excitement as he turned to face her fully. “The Queen gave you a job? Doing what? How can I help? Can I help? I know this is yours but I want to –,”

“Benedict,” she interrupted, laughing at his excitement. Her hand reached up to rest over his heart. “She wants me to be her biographer –to write the story of her life.”

He couldn’t help himself as he wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up to spin her around. She squealed some in response, unable to keep herself from laughing as she held onto his shoulders. “I am so proud of you!” He exclaimed, keeping her off the ground as he held her close. “My wife –the Queen’s biographer. What an honor it is to be married to you.”

She turned sheepish, feeling that blush creeping back up again. “You flatter me, Benedict. I –,”

“I must flatter you! You are a writer! For the Queen!”

When he finally set her down, Benedict rested his hands on her waist, looking down at her with adoration and awe. Her heart ached with joy –something inside her blossomed with Benedict’s support. His overjoyed reaction gave her exactly what she needed.

“I love you, Benedict. So very much. Thank you for believing in me.”

“I love you too,” he promised, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers. “And there’s no need to thank me for doing something that is easier than breathing.”

———

Taglist: @queensgirl718 @drowninginaseaofbooks @severewobblerlightdragon @wildflowerel @just-an-ace-elf @kamala-khann @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @imheretobeinvisible

[absolute-flaming-trash]

Congratulations with the 400 🎉🎉🎉 could i request Illumi + Meaningless by Charlotte Cardin

https://open.spotify.com/track/2E6QMP1mJcyD319Izd5mIK?si=FNAq-LN_S3CJE-qmP-1EOA&utm_source=copy-link

Thank you!!! I'm so sorry it took this long to get out, I think I bit off more than I could chew in trying to make this a 1 day event, my bad!

I still hope you enjoy it, though.

Warnings: Obsession, Kidnapping, Forced relationship

Meaningless - Charlotte Cardin

Having a purpose in the Zoldyck family was somewhat of a hypocritical statement.

Each member had a purpose, and that was to serve. Not just to whoever hired them to do the dirty work, but to serve the family name by contributing onto its legacy. It was all they knew, and all they needed to know.

Having a purpose outside of that was meaningless and contributed nothing noteworthy to the bigger picture. It was a concept that each of the Zoldyck children took in their own ways - Killua outright rejecting it while the rest accepted to different degrees.

Illumi was the only one of the five who seemed to have it truly internalized.

To him, everything else was meaningless. If it wasn’t family related, it truly and honestly meant nothing to him.

One could argue his partnership with Hisoka wasn’t related to the cause, but how wasn’t it? It was business, plain and simple.

Wanting for things for the sake of wanting them conflicted with everything he had ever known, so to be faced with the situation he was now wasn’t something he was used to.

He had never taken a person alive before.

He hadn’t intended to, of course. You were meant to be dead on the floor, a single pin protruding from the back of your head - right through the medulla - but instead you were bound with your wrists and ankles tied together respectively across the width of his bed. He observed you carefully from a chair placed about 6 feet from the end of the bed, his elbows on his knees and hands clasped in front of his mouth in thought - a rare posture to see him in.

You hadn’t woken up yet, so he could afford to take out the fabric gag he had tied around your head messily while he carried you to his home. He didn’t want to risk being bitten if you woke during the journey. He rose from his seat quietly, crossing the room and pulling the cloth from your mouth as gently as he believed he could. The part of the fabric that had been in your mouth was damp with saliva, and you let out an involuntary groan of relief once it slipped past your lips. His hand froze for a moment before he moved it to your face, running a single finger down your cheek.

You were so… soft. He hadn’t seen other people super up close like this before that wasn’t for the purpose of killing or practicing interrogation techniques. He was sure if someone had the fool hearted bravery to come into his chambers at this moment, they’d see his eyes wide with something other than disdain for life. Maybe they could call it wonder, if they survived long enough to process the sight before them.

He stopped stroking your cheek when you stirred in your sleep, slowly lowering his hand back down to his side.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

But maybe it was meant to?

He had hit you pretty hard. There was enough blood from your head wound at the initial scene that he could pass you off as dead to his client and collect what was owed to him.

A pulse of bloodlust radiated throughout the room, making you whimper below him.

He risked the chance of waking you when he picked you up bridal style and maneuvered you so you were laying with your head against his pillows, facing towards the center of the bed. He climbed in on the opposite side, his eyes never leaving your face as he laid on his left side - dark locks spilling over the side of the bed behind him.

Having someone in his bed like this felt… right. He wasn’t sure how to put it into words. He wasn’t sure if he could.

He had spent so much time observing you for the purpose of his failed assassination that you brought out something in him strong enough to turn intrusive thoughts that were little more than a nuisance into an obsession.

He blinked.

Was that what it was...

Hmm.

Whatever it was, it felt nice. It felt like he could have something for himself without breaking the family rules, since as long as you were a part of that family… he wasn’t doing anything wrong.

It had a purpose.

And now so did you.

© absolute-flaming-trash 2022. Do not repost, modify, copy, or claim.

[astriefer]

If you want to, how about prompt 36 with thomastair?? 🤍

Prompt 36 - "Don't move. it'll be okay."

Thank you for this ask!! This is so terribly late but I hope it's enough for you. This is really bad because I had inspiration and then it died and then assignments and family and I'm running late. But... just in time for holiday! So have this piece please 🙏 Didn't check it too much so sorry for type errors and such thank you

TW throwing up and illness.

When the Merry Thieves had gotten the message Thomas wouldn't join them that day, they were suspicious.

"It's not Thomas's handwriting," Matthew said thoughtfully to James and Christopher.

Christopher fixed his spectacles on his nose and took a glance at the parchment. "But who wrote it if not Thomas?"

As always, the group of Thieves (lacking Thomas) was hanging around the Herondale manor. Cordelia and Lucie had gone to train together, and Effie was busy preparing titbits and coffee for them. They waited for Thomas to approach in all his giant glory, half-predicted him to come with Christopher, but he did not arrive. After half an hour, and just as Matthew complained, "Had Thomas gotten himself kidnapped in the course of the night?" a runner came at the front door. The message he carried was what they had been looking at for the past few minutes.

James shrugged. "Alastair, I assume," his golden eyes scanned the carefully written words. "They do live together."

"It claims him to be feeling unwell," Matthew said. "Do you think it's because he finally realized what a nuisance Alastair is?"

James gave him a look. "Matthew."

"It's in good spirits!" Matthew defended, raising his hands. When James still looked at him pointedly, he lowered his hands and murmured. "To some extent."

James sighed. As long as he didn't say it in front of Thomas, Cordelia, or Alastair himself, he concluded it wasn't the worst thing. They were civil with each other's presence, which was progress. He couldn't be mad at Matthew anyhow. He placed the paper down, regarded his friend with a shrug.

"What ho," Christopher said. "Your definitions for good spirits may cross the traditional ones."   

"Well, it's not my fault the ordinary interpretations are substantially dull," Matthew retorted.

Christopher hummed and stopped paying attention, seemingly engrossed in a new idea of an invention that must have captured his mind. Matthew gave him a fond smile and then cut his gaze back to James. "So, are we going?"

"Where?" James asked as Matthew stood up. His parabatai straightened his double-breasted waistcoat, which had decorations of an exotic animal on it.

He must have looked dumbfounded because Matthew added kindly, "Oh, Jamie bach," Matthew clicked his tongue at him. "Can you truly believe Thomas is sick?"

"That's what written here," he tapped on the papyrus. Matthew clicked his tongue again. His eyes were shining dangerously. "I know that look. What ill thing your mind hallucinated this time?"

"Everything I think of is a masterpiece, mind you. And clearly," Matthew said, leaning forward in his seat, "He scribbled some poor excuse to spend time with Alastair. But he said he would come. And if he won't come to us, we will come to him. So we shall step up to their flat and demand our Thomas."

"It doesn't sound like Thomas to fake such a thing." James's eye deterred away to the clock on the wall. He had the idea if it was something else, not a possibility of Thomas favoring Alastair's company over theirs, it would die silently. 

"It sounds a bit petty," Christopher noted. His hands tapped on the floor, fingers twisting as if he desired to be in Henry's lab and write down his findings.  

"It's not," Matthew promised. "We needn't have a reason to see Thomas. Besides, don't you want to tell him about your latest experiment?"

Christopher's eyes lit up at that. He shoved his spectacles up his nose, nodding. "Yes, it would be good. I made some progress he should be filled in about."

"Great!" Matthew commented. "Let's go."

"Poor Kit," James teased as he got up. "You use science to tempt him?" 

"I have no clue what you are talking about," Matthew graced him with a brilliant smile."I merely harness the power of science for my good deeds."

~~~~

As it turned out, unwell was an underestimate.

"What are you doing here?" Alastair asked when he opened the door of the flat. James was a bit stunned to see how disheveled and bedraggled he looked, a stark contrast to his usual display. His clothes were rumpled and crumpled and he looked awfully gassed.

The three soon cut free of their astonishment, and Christopher talked first. "Hullo, Alastair. We have come to see Thomas."

Alastair blinked but otherwise remained still. "I delivered you a message. He isn't feeling well."

"We had an essential piece of enlightenment to share with him," Matthew supplied. Alastair gave him an indifferent look.

"He isn't feeling well," Alastair repeated. James started to think it was a bad idea to come - Alastair clearly wasn't fancy to usher them inside. From inside the flat, a smell of soup traveled in the air.

Matthew's green eyes faced Alastair's unabashedly. "Why, let us see him, then. There's nothing our engaging presence can't aid. Tom will be feeling much better if he sees us."

"He needs to rest, not play games with his friends-"

A broad-shouldered figure came behind him, towering over him. " 'm fine."

Matthew wasn't the only one with a twisted interpretation of rudimentary words, apparently. James was fairly sure 'fine' shouldn't mean being so pale or to have big bruises-like black shadows under your eyes; nor did he think someone feeling fine should be looking so lightheaded and sick. Thomas's moss of light brown hair was mussed and tousled. He looked, frankly, even worse than Alastair - sweaty and tapped up.

"Thomas?" James asked.

The tall man shifted his gaze to James rather slowly. Instantaneously he realized Thomas was leaning his hand against the wall for support, and not for the sake of doing it. He was unsteady. "Greetings. I was going to get ready and come by your house, James."

"You should be in bed," Alastair protested.

Thoams's stance was defensive. "I am plenty fine, thank you, I don't need any rest in bed."

A muted sigh escaped Alastair's lips. He glanced at the three of them. "May you put some reason into him? You could at least do that after turning up here."

"I am standing right here," Thomas pointed out. He sounded almost too drained-out to resist. Alastair seemed unimpressed.

Christopher hesitated. "You do look a bit green around the gills, Tom."

"You look liverish, and not in a neat way," Matthew added.

"You have no need to dot on me," Thomas insisted. Annoyance took over his features. "I have rested enough. I shall-"

He cut off abruptly, gagging. He turned over back into the apartment, a hand over his stomach, and ran inside.  With a last skeptical glance thrown toward them, Alastair charged after Thomas.

James stood in front of the front door, bewildered, till Matthew passed him and flung the door open for them to enter.

Christopher followed with no protest. "What?" Matthew asked when James shot him a dark look. "They left the door open, thus I regard it as an invitation to permit ourselves inside."

With that philosophy in mind, they passed the corridor into the parlor. Accompany to the horrible sound of vomiting - James guessed it was Thomas's part - they could catch a low, soothing murmur of calming words. Alastair.

"You were wrong," Christopher said as he turned to Matthew. His voice was not self-righteous whatsoever, just matter-of-factly and troubled. "He is feeling ill."

Matthew seemed abashed, just slightly. "I wouldn't have been aghast if told he wanted to spend time with his lover."

They settled themselves nervously on the Aegean-blue sofa.  As a few minutes passed -  slow, confused, and worried - the sound of retching had finally petered out. They heard the noise of the water goes down the toilet.

"You think we should check whether they are fine?" Christopher asked.

"He honked up all he ate for breakfast. He must need to collect himself, and we should let him - unless you think he can somehow drown himself in the seek of the toilet." Matthew pondered over the last part amusingly.

Christopher seemed satisfied with the answer, and he cut his gaze back to the corridor through Thomas and Alastair had disappeared.

When he finally came back into the parlor, he limply made his way to the sofa, bearly holding himself straight. He hung his head low, sweat pooled on his neck and forehead and glimmered on his cheeks. His face reminded James of a red balloon, shiny and oddly red.

"Are you all right?" James inquired when he finally sat. Thomas made no sudden movements as he decisively faced them. It was clear as day Thomas, by all means, was not all right.

"Yes," he said. Matthew, James, and Christopher exchanged concerned looks between them. Alastair had not returned yet. "I must have eaten something spoiled."

"Are you sure?" Matthew pressed. "You still look dreadful."

"Surely I couldn't guess it," Thomas quipped.

"We can entertain you, though," Matthew pondered, giving him a smirk. "You stay in bed, and we will keep you a worthy company."

Thomas moved in his place, uncomfortable. Christopher, on the other way, smiled at Thomas. "Mam and Aunt Charlotte said I could use the lab tomorrow morning if there will be someone with me. The enclave has an important meeting early that day, and even Henry attends."

Thomas seemed grateful for the change of topic. Mattew said, "We might go and eavesdrop in case something interesting will come up."

"I will be there first thing tomorrow," Thomas avowed, although none of them asked him to. Thomas succumbs to a brutal coughing fit, and It was at that moment Alastair approached from the corridor.

"You need to rest," Alastair chided.

Thomas commnented hastily. "You are over-worried. I am fine."

"You're behaving frivolously," he proclaimed. "You ought to relax and rest, not to run around with your friend as if you are not sick."

"I'm just tired."

Alastair gave him an incredulous stare. "Really, you," he scolded wearily. "Utter madness, what that mouth of you blurts out." The dark-haired man turned over to the kitchen. Then he turned again. Alastair's dark gaze moved to the rest of the Merry Thieves. "You could at least bring a soup or medicine," he countered.

Matthew lifted his arms mockingly as if to surrender. "I am sorry, O great lord, that I didn't know how sick Thomas was. From your message, he could also have a slight headache."

Alastair scoffed and went into the kitchen. Mattew shot a look at Christopher and James, who nodded. he returned his eyes on Thomas.

"Hark, I, for once, agree with Carstairs. An advent I thought I would ever do. But I do think you should stay in bed."

"Shan't." Thomas regarded the idea of being treated by others with disdain. he rubbed his eyes, mumbling under his breath. "I am fine," he insisted. "I can hang out with you."

Alastair came back into the room, placing himself next to the sofa Thomas was resting on. He put down a large bowl. Haze of steams rose from the Broth. "Eat this. Then you go to bed."

Thomas's glare snitched up at him. He rubbed his eyes wearily.  "I am fine," he repeated. "I am already feeling better."

The look Alastair gave him made it clear he wasn't buying it. "Bed." Alastair crossed his hands on the chance and his gaze determined. "I am not supposed to teach you how to take care of yourself. So eat the soup and go to bed.

Thomas's grumpy mood seemed to worsen. He would've thrown hands if he hadn't felt so indisposed. "I can take care of myself."

"So don't be so stubborn and do as I say."

"It doesn't sound like taking care of oneself," Thomas grumbled. He coughed again into his forearm."And you're not my mother." 

"A very fine observation. No, I'm your partner," he gave Thomas a meaningful look. "So either you eat the soup or expect to get it shoved down your throat."

"That you very better not do."

Christopher looked at Thomas with concern. "You do not look good, Tom. You should rest."

Thomas sighed inconspicuously. It was tenuous confidence he held against them. "You too, kit?"

"As he should," Alastair sneered. He was losing patience. "Stop playing around, and drink your bloody soup."

Thomas grunted, his back straightening. He seemed dizzy and ready to tell Alastair off once again, before he gaped loudly. He must have felt queasy for he scrambled to his feet, fighting his nausea to make it to the bathroom. He almost knocked into a wall.

James glanced at Alastair, who had been mumbling grumpily under his breath, for a moment just watching his swaying partner with distaste. His dark hair flew as he followed him, for the second time since James and the other Marry Thieves arrived, to the bathroom. They followed their ailing friend and the scaling man dashing after him, then looked at each other. 

Christopher looked baffled, "Why would Tom resist so much to rest in bed?"

Matthew shrugged, furrowing his brows. "I can't fathom a reason for him to be that way," He cringed as the sounds of retching reverberated from the other room."He's supposed to be the reasonable one between us lot."

"Poor Tom," James said. "Maybe because he is so terribly ill he can't get hold of reality."

In the meantime, James investigated the furnishing of the drawing-room, which was unadorned. He drifted over to a colossal bookcase at the corner of the room, full of books in English, Persian, and Spanish (and some other languages he could not tell). He traced the spines of the books and glanced at his friends. Matthew was animatedly talking with Christopher, who tried to listen, even though it was clear to James that it was only half-hearted. He mused over browsing briefly at a shabby, worn copy of Hamlet when the noises from the other room finally stopped.

After a few minutes with no noises at all coming from the corridor, James stood up. "I will check on them," he told his friend, "Maybe Thomas passed out, or he is in distress."

Matthew and Christopher were up on their feet in the bare minimum of time. "We shall come as well."

"We won't fit there, all of us," James mentioned. Thomas would've felt better if they all would come and help take care of him, he was sure, but facts were facts. "Just let me see if he needs anything from us."

The other thrives reluctantly sat back on the sofa. In quiet, stealthy steps, he headed into the candle-lit corridor. He moved past some doors - their bedrooms, he assumed, or a library, perhaps. He stopped when he reached an open door, meaning to knock first to announce his presence, but it flew his mind when he poked his hand into the bathroom. He absentmindedly noted the porcelain clawfoot tub, the decorated primrose tiles, and the wallpaper - intricate floral trace and lines in moderate colors, which he pondered over who of the two men chose. There was also a high-level cistern toilet, Thomas leaning on its ream seat. A washbasin stood nearby, and Alastair was taking a flannel and dipping it in water before he handed it to Thomas. The unpleasant smell of vomit still stung the air.

Thomas's laid with his half-lidded eyes cracked a bit more open, still regaining his breath, and took the flannel. He managed to wash his face as Alastair took care to clean any mess created. Then he knelt in front of Thomas. Thomas pulled Alastair close weakly, buried his face in Alastair's chest. James could hear he was breathing deep and long, trying to control his upset stomach. He moved very little, very carefully, trying to shield his eyes from the light that shone in the room.

"Tom," Alastair said, surprisingly gently, unlike before. Suddenly James felt he was invading their privacy. "Hold on and cease for once in your life. You need to rest."

Thomas did not move nor talked, and James had the idea he fought back another gagging.

"Hamsar-am," Alastair tried again after Thomas seemed to curb the urge to regurgitate. "Why won't you rest?"

His friend talked tentatively and out of breath, his voice dry and hoarse and quivering. "I don't want everyone to chip around me like I'm some sickly fledgling. If my parents knew, they might even make a silent brother come. Being like this - reminds me of times I was sickly and small and weak. But I am a shadow hunter. I am an adult. I am sick of people thinking I'm incapable of taking care of myself."

James studied Alastair's face. To his grand surprise, he saw his face softens. Tenderly, he pressed their forehead together. "I am more than confidant you can take care of yourself, Thomas. I just try to assist and make you more comfortable, but we go nowhere if you fight me on every single decision. Drinking soup and resting in bed is something all people do. It helps you to get better."

Thomas's eyes were unfocused. "Sorry."

James wasn't certain to what of it all Thomas was sorry for, but Alastair seemed to accept it. He sighed breathly, backing away from Thomas. "It's fine. Just let yourself rest, shall you? I still have a desire to -" he cut off when his eyes captured James, who leaned on the doorframe. "James."

James bolted straight and made sure his countenance revealed nothing as if he did not hear the conversation between the couple. "We will take out leave, see as you go and rest, Tom. We will come to check on you tomorrow."

Someone came behind him, and he found Christopher and Matthew looking into the bathroom. "We will tell Aunt Sophie and Uncle Gideon you are sick," Matthew intervened. "They can bring you some food and take care of you. Lucie will be glad to tell of the last mischiefs of The Beautiful Cordelia. Speaking of which, Lucie will tell her parents, and they will rush to make Brother Zachariah come to visit them-"

"We can also keep quiet," James offered. Thomas's words echoed in his head. He looked at Alastair. "I suppose Alastair can be enough of caretaker. But do tell us if you need anything. Alright, Tom?"

Alastair gave him an odd look, almost appreciation - but not precisely - on Thomas's behalf. The latter had only nodded his thanks and seemed relieved by James's offer.

"Recover quickly," Christopher said, his spectacles reflecting the light. Behind of them was a pair of caring eyes."There is just so much we Thieves can do without our heart."

~~~~

The Merry Thieves bid their goodbye and Alastair went to accompany them out, while Thomas made his way to their bedroom.

They had two bedrooms, one for each of them, despite they spent the nights together. He chose to go to Alastair's room, where his smell was strong and comforting. His steps were fatigue, his mind racing and hammering. The sunlight felt like a blow to his face, making his stomach perilously twist and turn. He wasn't sure he had left any contents to honk up. He was iffy and aching, couldn't find the power to shut the curtains close. Alastair's bed - wide enough for the both of them - was too compelling to resist. He grunted loudly, resting his head on the soft pillows. He felt cold. So cold.

What fought the place of the ill-feeling that settled in every bone of his body was his great dismay from being ill in the first place. Every time he got cold, his parents would worry themselves out as if he still was the sickly child from his childhood days. His friends will all dot on him, Alastair would lay him out for days, everyone will tell him he must rest to heal. And he despised it. He despised it with all his might. Like a rope tightening around his neck, like an invisible cage surrounding him. A cage made of love and care was still a cage, in his mind. Thomas did not like to be incarcerated. This creeping feeling of losing your independence frightened him, reminded him of times he was bedridden, out of necessity for his frequent ill-health.

Thomas didn't notice his eyes were shut until he tilted his head toward a noise - Alastair coming into the room. Thomas heard the door creak quietly, heralding Alastair's presence, and again as he closed it quietly. He felt rather than saw the quilt placed over him, hugging his body, giving a little warmth to the cool world he was in. Not warm enough, however.

"You're lucky you're my favorite," The well-known voice of Alastair mumbled.

They've butted heads around this the whole morning. Thomas refused to stick to bid despite Alastair's stubborn protests. Now, he felt his body turn to halves and his head throbbed as if the Angels gathered and made a party there. He hated Alastair to see him this weak, yet he hated it more to see the pain in his eyes because of his refusals. Thomas stirred in his place, every movement of his head making a new wave of headache hit him. "Stay." He reached his hand and tugged weakly at the fabric of the sleeveshirt of, not truly commending as asking.

"I will. Wait a moment." Thomas's grip went loose and with that, the half-Persian man disappeared again. He shifted, despite his throbbing head, so he could leave some place for Alastair to lay next to him. He moved slowly and painfully, fighting on every inch he could force himself to move. He hearkened Alastair marching back into their bedroom.

 He tried to leave some space for Alastair. "Don't move," Alastair's tender voice cut through the void. "It'll be okay." Then a wet cloth softly landing against his forehead. 

Cold.

He shivered. He tried to whisper "cold" but he felt no energy left in his body to protest. His eyes were heavy, his tongue even more so. "This is chiefly for your own good," Alastair comforted apologetically. "You are burning." He climbed to bed from the other side of the bed, slipping under the beddings and placing himself close to Thomas. It slipped from Thomas's mind beds had two sides.

Thomas's jumble of thoughts wandered freely anywhere and nowhere - he couldn't put enough effort into imagining, it just made the constant thumping in his head worse. A warm hand was tentatively wrapped around his chest. Alastair put effort into hugging him lightly as possible, offering the warmth Thomas was seeking. He tucked himself a bit closer to Thomas, pressed a soft kiss to his head, then sunk into the bed. The heat Alastair radiated was drugging, and the arm which rested on his chest felt more comforting than any other thing the world could offer. He tried to breathe but the feeling of bile rising in his throat made him stop.

Alastair must have noticed because he backed away from him. "I put a bucket down your side, in case you have any food to get rid of," he acknowledged.  His presence was calming and needed. Thomas wanted to apologize for being so stubborn, to tell him he appreciated him and what he did for him. When he tried, he could not force himself to speak up, his vocal cords exhausted, and he wanted nothing but to let his mind slip into nothingness. He could not. Thomas felt drowsy, the strings of sleep dragging him into a feverish slumber.

Alastair removed his arm and his weight abruptly shifted, and the cloth had been taken away from Thomas's forehead. He startled, fighting to open his eyes, and then it was back, cold and piercing, and Alastair returned his hand to hug him. He felt a soft graze against his cheek - Alastair's lips - that ignited fire where it touched, just like his arm, making it a little less freezing. They kept resting in an awful silence for a few more minutes. Thomas had no problem with silence - he even liked it. Yet, knowing Alastair was watching him, concerned, putting everything aside to take care of him, was unbearable for him. He was supposed to see his mother and sibling today. He was excited to see them. Thomas desperately wanted the stillness to evanesce.  

"Would you like me to read to you?"

Thomas couldn't quite realize how Alastair knew, but he hummed lowly in agreement. The weight beside him lifted, missed instantly before it came back with a small thump.

Alastair began to read. He desired to look at this chiseled face. When he tried to open his eyes, he found he couldn't. A blazing headache stroke him the moment he cracked them the tiniest bit. "Sorry for ruining today," Thomas sputtered. He didn't think he could force any other words to come up his throat.

"I'm here with you, my day can't be ruined. Even if you have a fever and acts like a stubborn fool." Alastair continued to read, Thomas felt himself being carried away to Lady Sleep, a cruel mistress, sometimes, and also a gentle one, if you approach her the right way. He felt himself falling into her arms, the voice of Alastair guiding him to a safe place in the realm of dreams.

[concernedbrownbread]

Garbage Boy

For @adrienaugust Day 5: Cheese

In which Adrien and Plagg work at a Fromagerie, like they dreamed of in Wishmaker. But it's been years since Hawkmoth's defeat, and they're just trying to get by.

Words: 1123

Warning: I know nothing of cheese. Also, heavily inspired by Ratatoullie. Don't worry, this is fluff, the angst is in the background.

Read here or under the cut

---

“You know,” Plagg drawled, “When I said I wanted to work at a Fromagerie, this isn’t what I meant, garbage boy.”

“I’m just cleaning, not collecting garbage.” Adrien sighed, leaning against the mop, “And I know Plagg. But we can’t exactly buy a Fromagerie with no money to our name.”

“What a statement, huh.”

Adrien hummed in agreement. Three years after Hawkmoth’s defeat - after his reveal as Gabriel Agreste - and Adrien had used up pretty much any money that he’d managed to salvage after the company went bankrupt. His Dad tried to help, of course, but after Gabriel, the Gorilla had a hard time finding work too.

So, here was Adrien Agreste, once a model, now a full-time garbage boy. He wasn’t even Chat Noir part time anymore.

Technically, Plagg wasn’t even supposed to be here. But - well, they may have just made a run for it, after everything, and he certainly wasn’t looking back anymore than Plagg was. He felt guilty sometimes, about turning his back on Ladybug after the whole Hawkmoth ordeal, but she asked him to give up the one thing he had left - Plagg. So it really was just running from there.

“You’re moping.”

“Mopping,” Adrien corrected, gesturing to his mop.

“Har, har. But I can hear you think, kit.”

“Sorry.”

Plagg gave him a stern look, “Don’t be. What were you even thinking of?”

“The past,” he hesitated, “And the present. This isn’t what I imagined for us.”

They looked around the room, filled with cheese they couldn’t touch, finishing up the last bit of cleaning before opening hour. It was the biggest, best Fromagerie in Paris, and he’d only really gotten in thanks to Chloe pulling strings.

“Whatever kit. I like it. Smelling cheese all day!”

“I can’t even afford you camembert anymore,” Adrien pointed out.

Plagg shrugged, “Cheese is cheese. American isn’t so bad!”

To prove his point, he pulled out a square slice of yellow from Adrien’s pocket, pulling off the plastic and folding it into his mouth.

“See? It’s fine.”

With great amusement, Adrien watched Plagg gag.

“Still getting used to the … non-cheese aspects of it.”

Adrien was about to promise Plagg some camembert using his first paycheck - for old time’s sake - when the door burst open.

“You!” Alfredo, the store owner, said, “Who’re you?”

“Um … I clean?”

“Fine, whatever, listen,” Alfredo grabbed Adrien by the shoulders, ignoring his flinch, “Do you know cheese?”

“I - I guess?”

“Can you sell them?”

“Yes?”

“The other girl isn’t coming in today - what’s her name?” Alfredo clicked his finger, “Charlotte - “

“Colette - “

“Her. I need you to fill in. Very important people are coming in today.”

Adrien stammered, “S - sir, I don’t think - “

The bell on the door dinged, signifying customers. Alfredo’s eyes widened, “No time, no time. Just - just get out there.”

He grabbed Adrien’s mop, put him in an apron and pushed him out into the front. He froze, like a cat caught in car lights.

“Hm,” the man hummed, “You are?”

“Uh - Adrien? Adrien Agreste.”

The man’s beady eyes widened momentarily, face twitching into something incomprehensible before it settled back into an impassive stare.

“Gabriel Agreste’s son, working in a Fromagerie. Why I never.”

“You never … what?”

“Hm,” the man gave him a onceover, “My name is Antoine. I’m a food critic and it has come to my attention that the credibility of this shop is years out of date. So. I’m here to inquire about your cheese.”

A food what now?

Adrien didn’t know the first thing about cheese, except for the fact that Plagg liked it. What was he supposed to -

“Follow my lead,” Plagg hissed from beside Adrien’s ear.

After Hawkmoth, Adrien had grown out his hair to try and feel closer to Chat Noir. It only served to make people throw more slurs at him on the street, but for once - well, he was glad. He was never cutting it again.

“Well,” Adrien said, repeating Plagg’s words, “If you’d come right this way.”

Adrien was going to cry. Or maybe laugh. Or maybe -

“Garbage boy!”

“I’m a cleaner actually - “

Alfredo waved his hand dismissively, “I must say, I’m impressed!” he leaned in, “Was any of what you said true?”

“Most of it,” Plagg whispered, which Adrien repeated.

Alfredo laughed, “You’re off cleaning duty, garbage boy. From now on, you can work the front. Heavens know Catherine needs to know the meaning of hard work - “

“Charlotte - nevermind.”

Adrien watched Alfredo walk away, utterly bemused.

“This was a weird day.”

“We’re going places, kit!” Plagg said, laughing, “Did you see that guy’s face when we talked about the bryndza’s brine?”

“I didn’t see him react.”

“Oh humans, so blind. He was clearly peeing his pants.”

Adrien nodded in agreement, “Yes. Clearly.”

“This is perfect. Like in that movie with the cooking! You’re Linguini!”

“And you’re Remy the rat.”

“I’m no rat, Adrien, I’m insulted!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Adrien grinned, “Then I refuse to be Linguini.”

Plagg laughed, and Adrien didn’t remember the last time he had seen the Kwami laugh, “This is going to be better than Ratatouille.”

Life wasn’t easy for them anymore. Hawkmoth’s capture for them spelt a boy falling out of public grace, ridiculed and left without his inheritance. The Agreste wealth, the Gabriel fortune, everything he had had been forced out of his hand, through guilt and stupid decisions of his own. His friends had been help, but Natalie went back home sick and frail, and the only adult he had truly been able to rely on was the Gorilla - Gregory.

High school was a chore, but his grades in physics landed him in university. Until he dropped out, and made a long series of stupid decisions, before ending up in therapy and being forced to do something with his life.

Some days, he thought about that night. The night Ladybug was finally ready to reveal herself, after months of pushing him aside. The night when Ladybug looked like the weight of the world had lifted off her shoulders, when Adrien’s world had just crashed down.

The night when Ladybug, sweet Ladybug, kind Ladybug, had hugged him tight, “I’ll love you, whoever you are. It’s time to give up our Miraculous'”

And the night Adrien pushed her away, and ran, because he wasn’t losing Plagg, come hell or high water.

“Do you think I made the right choice?” Adrien would ask Plagg sometimes.

And the kwami could put his paw on Adrien’s cheek, “For every choice you make in which we stay together, is the right one.”

Adrien watched Plagg float in and out of shadows, still talking about his cheese, and felt the world come into clarity.

Plagg had been right. He had made the right choice.

---

Author's Note: This one was SO much fun to write, I'm tempted to write a whole story of Adrien and Plagg just outrunning Ladybug, trying to go from paycheck to paycheck, and learning to deal with the trauma that is Gabriel. They are such an awesome duo.

Also, I apologise for knowing literally nothing about cheese and fromageries.

[dovebuffy92]

https://www.fanbolt.com/115324/lucifer-season-6-review/

The television series Lucifer developed by Tom Kapinos receives a bittersweet ending in Season 6.

First, there are beautiful moments like Mazikeen’s “Maze” (Lesley-Ann Brandt) and Eve’s (Inbar Lavi) wedding. Then there are bitter moments; for example, Lucifer Morningstar (Tom Ellis) returning to Hell, leaving behind his family, including the love of his life, former Detective Chloe Decker (Lauren German), and stepchild Trixie Espinoza (Scarlett Estevez).

In all, Lucifer Season 6 is a mixed bag but the perfect ending for the main character.

Maze and Trixie

Maze and Trixie’s friendship is only slightly referenced in the final season, erasing the relationship that helped the demon evolve. In Lucifer Season Two Episode “Trick or Treat?”, Maze created a President of Mars costume for the then eight-year-old. Trixie’s dream career is to be President of Mars, which she told Maze about in the first season.

Trixie also accepted Maze, even with her full demon face on during Halloween. For a long time, the only person the demon truly liked on Earth was Trixie. Maze taught her how to fight when she was babysitting. She took Trixie’s advice about important issues. The two are best friends. But after the third season, Maze and now thirteen-year-old Trixie are barely on screen together.

This season, the only reference to their close bond is Trixie telling her secret angel sister Rory (Brianna Hildebrand) that she is Maze’s best friend. Maze and Trixie also gesture to each other when the demon bride walks down the aisle.

I understand that as a recurring character, Trixie can’t interact with everybody, and there have been fewer episodes to play with since the show moved to Netflix. Still, I wish Kapinos and the writers could have ended the show with Trixie advising Maze on her wedding jitters or a sparring session.

Lucifer Season 6 Explores Different Visual Aesthetics

Lucifer Season 6 explores different visual aesthetics, easing tension-filled moments in the plot. The best example is in “Yabba Dabba Do Me,” where animation brings humor to a serious quest. Lucifer believes that he will feel ready to become God when he can help somebody he hates. He and Chloe fly down to Hell to help the murderer Jimmy Barnes (John Pankow) from Lucifer’s pilot episode.

Before opening a portal door, Lucifer warns his girlfriend that Jimmy’s hellscape will be horrific because he drove the music producer insane. Instead, the couple enters a Hanna-Barbera-style cartoon universe. Both Lucifer and Chloe turn into cartoons with no genitals and eyes that can bounce out of their sockets.

Now, the old-fashioned animation is not just a fun gag but a clue about what Jimmy truly desires. When Jimmy was a troubled young boy, he used to watch Hanna-Barbera cartoons to comfort himself. The dead music producer was watching them the day his musician mother abandoned him.

Lucifer can’t take Jimmy out of Hell, but he comforts the tortured man by trapping him in a time loop. For the rest of the time, Jimmy watches cartoons with his mother right before she leaves. The viewer, like Jimmy, can’t help but giggle watching a Hanna-Barbera cartoon though the storytelling technique moves the plot forward.

Happiness Only In Death

Many human characters don’t find self-actualization or happiness until after they die, which I find troubling. Now I know that Lucifer is an urban fantasy television show, not a serious drama, but it conforms to problematic Judeo-Christian beliefs. Beliefs like humans need to live a hard life, so they go to paradise when they die.

Nobody should or needs to feel joyful twenty-four-seven, but there is no need to feel tortured most of the time. Therapist Dr. Linda Martin (Rachael Harris) and forensic scientist Ella Lopez (Aimee Garcia) live happily. But Linda’s son Charlie Martin is half-archangel, and the father of her child, archangel Amenadiel (D.B Woodside), becomes God.

Ella Lopez is the only main human character with no romantic (former or current) affiliations with an immortal that lives fully. Dan Espinoza (Kevin Alejandro) doesn’t get his forever after with Charlotte Richards (Tricia Helfer) until they’re both in Heaven. Chloe and Lucifer don’t get their happy ending until she dies, then is flown down to Hell to be his partner.

The Love Story in Lucifer Season 6

Chloe and Lucifer are the television show’s sweetest love story, but it still seems unfair that they spend decades apart. Lucifer could have been the Devil and still visited his family, but he promised Rory he wouldn’t. Rory’s logic on why Lucifer needs to isolate himself from his family is never explained, making the ending feel unfair to both the audience and the characters.

Lucifer Morningstar’s mental health journey ends on a high note, with the Devil finding his true purpose. The whole series starts with Lucifer vacationing in Los Angles because he felt bored constantly torturing souls in Hell. However, he stayed in Los Angeles because of his feelings for the detective. Helping Chloe solve murders was fun for Lucifer but not his true purpose. Chloe loves catching criminals, proven by the fact that retirement doesn’t stop her from inserting herself in investigations during a date with Lucifer.

On the other hand, the Devil has no trouble quitting his LAPD advisory position to be God. Lucifer’s last unconventional therapy session with Linda reveals that he doesn’t want to be the lord. The mantle of God doesn’t fit his personality or talents. But throughout the series, Lucifer has been obsessed with bettering himself through therapy.

In the final season, he actively helps numerous lost souls. The Devil stops Rory from letting rage consume her. “Goodbye Lucifer” ends with Lucifer’s advice freeing Dan of his guilt, therefore, allowing him to ascend to Heaven.

Throughout the ten episodes, the Devil counsels people makes it natural that he chooses to return to Hell. Lucifer’s true purpose is to treat the deceased humans whose guilt traps them in Hell. Lucifer Season 6 reveals the importance of maintaining good mental health.

Watch all seasons of Lucifer on Netflix!