#except I didn't make a wedding invitation for them
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fruitgoat · 2 years ago
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Sometimes people say things.
And years of therapy (and life) have taught me that I don't have to respond.
(I'll just make vague passive-aggressive posts on social media after the fact.)
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floatyflowers · 6 months ago
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Dark! House Of The Dragon x Game of Thrones! Reader|Part 2
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<<<Part 1
Through the years spent at Dragonstone, you managed to strengthen your ties with your siblings, your mother, Baela and Daemon.
You even visit Rhaenys and Corlys, and became best of friends with Rhaena despite Rhaenyra feeling possessive of you leaving her side.
This is all necessary to keep strong connections with the Velaryons, knowing very well that Rhaenys and Corlys know that you and your siblings are not their son's children
You even wore House Velaryons color at all times to please them and it worked very well.
Rhaenys and Corlys even requested to stay with them at Driftmark but Daemon and Rhaenyra rejected the idea.
Strangely enough Queen Alicent and your grandsire request the same thing, but of course, they got the same reply.
Rhaenyra felt threatened by the idea of you leaving her side and wed you to Jace earlier then expected.
Rhaenyra sensed your nervousness at the wedding and hugged you in assurance.
"Don't worry, I will be with you every step of the way, my sweet girl"
She didn't know that you remembered yours and Robb's wedding.
Daemon and Rhaenyra agreed to have the wedding on Dragonstone in the old valyrian custom.
They didn't invite anyone except the family members on Dragonstone.
Viserys was disappointed but not more angry then Alicent who found offense.
It's not like she invited Rhaenyra to Aegon and Helaena's wedding anyways.
Or maybe she did, but your mother didn't want you anywhere near the Hightowers.
Rhaenys also held grudge against Rhaenyra for doing such a thing, meanwhile Corlys was furious as he wished for the wedding to be on Driftmark.
Aemond felt heartbroken and stopped writing to you while Aegon drank away his pain.
Meanwhile Luke felt a bit jealous as he kind of had a crush on you, and your other younger siblings just enjoyed the celebrations.
Daemon encouraged Jace to impregnate you and ignore Rhaenyra's advice against having babies early.
And when you announce your pregnancy, Rhaenyra became so fearful for your life.
Especially when she saw how weak you were during the pregnancy.
You reminded her of her mother, Aemma.
Her paronia reflected on Jacaerys and Lucerys, thinking that you might not make it.
Meanwhile, in reality, you weren't ill, you were sad, because you wished for Cersei to be here.
Despite what she did to your previous husband, but still, Cersei loved you and this was clear.
On your fifth month, Rhaenyra announces that she is also pregnant just so she can support you and ease your worries.
You and Jace already chose the names for the babies, if it was a boy he will be named Aenar, and if it's a girl, then she will name Aemma.
Luke and Joffrey chose the perfect egg for the baby from your dragon's clutch.
Baela would read you stories as to pass time while you stay in bed.
When you want into labour, the whole castle went in chaos to ensure you have a safe delivery.
Daemon threatened the maesters that if anything happens to you, he will feed them to Caraxes.
Jace was on his way to support you during labour, but when he arrived, you were already holding his daughter.
Everything was going on well, with your new small family.
Until your grandsire, Corlys fell ill, and Vaemond decided to question the legitimacy of you and your full brothers.
Part 3>>>
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demonic0angel · 1 month ago
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Dani gets deaged for a day and left in Danny's care. The Waynes think he and Cass managed to hide an entire pregnancy via magic or Fenton logic. The next day, Future Danny drops by and has Present Danny babysit his actual future kid with Cass
(This escalated into Dick becoming a mother-in-law, don't ask me how.)
“Wait— so who’s kid is this?!” Dick said, pointing at Dani.
She didn't even look up from her phone as she rolled her eyes. “I told you, I’m Danny’s sister, but I had an accidental spell cast on me.”
Dick then gestured to the pair of twins on Cass’ lap. “And to clarify, these are my nieces?!”
Cass nodded slowly. “From the future. We’re babysitting.”
Bruce was still unconscious from the first initial shock from finding out he had grandchildren. Twice. Nobody helped him, except for Tim and Damian, who had moved him to a couch.
Dick pointed an aggressive finger at Danny, who looked abashed. Dick was growing dizzy as he said loudly, “You impregnated my sister?!”
“Uhm. Yes?” Danny blushed and both he and Cass shared an affectionate look. Dick threw a fork at him, making him duck and break eye contact with a yelp.
“This is outrageous!” Dick said loudly. "How dare you lay a hand on my little sister!"
"Oh my god. You sound like Damian," Tim said, sounding appalled.
"Even I am shocked by your hostility, Richard," Damian said, eyebrow raised.
"I love my nieces, but this isn't right," Dick said, despite only knowing his nieces for less than 10 minutes. He practically whined, nearly bursting into tears, "Where's the wedding?! The romance?! Why is my sister now a mother??!"
"Dude, are you seriously going to protest now? The kids are already here. Face it, you're now an uncle," Stephanie snorted.
Cass reached over to pat him on the knee. "It's okay. I'll invite you to my wedding in spring."
Danny blushed, while Dick just sniffed tearily. Then he said, "I want to be a maid of honor."
Stephanie gasped, affronted. "Excuse you?! I'm maid of honor!"
The two started squabbling with Damian and Tim quickly joining in. Bruce still laid unconscious. Danny had taken Dick's distraction as a moment to sneak over and cuddle Cass. Their two daughters were turning their heads like a tennis match to watch the ongoing chaos.
Dani finally looked up from her screen and muttered to Cass, "This would be an awkward time to tell them that you also promised to make Jazz a maid of honor too, huh?"
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hangmanssunnies · 1 year ago
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Heat To Boil
Summary: After a failed Tinder date, you go to hang out with your friend Jake "Hangman" Seresin. When you get to his house, you unexpectedly find him with a baby, and it is a sight that rewires something in your head. Jake needs a baby of his own. Right now — like yesterday, actually. And that is a task you would be more than willing to help with; now, you just need to find the courage to bring it up.
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Pairings: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader
Word count: 9k
AO3 Link
Warnings: 18+ Only, Friends to lovers, baby fever, smut, P in V, Oral, Hangman with a baby (deserves its own warning)
Author's note: The attorneys at work keep bringing their babies in and letting me hold them, and @top-hhun has done absolutely nothing to discourage the subsequent baby fever I've been dealing with. Anyways, that's where this fic came from. I hope you enjoy this. My inbox is always open if you want to let me know your thoughts. Reblogs with your thoughts, opinions, and tags are gold to me. I love reading through them.
You had become friends with Jake unexpectedly some years ago, hitting it off at your mutual friend's wedding. Part of you had, of course, hoped the attractive blonde aviator would be interested in you, maybe in a romantic sense, but it never came to fruition. He shipped out the week after the wedding, but the easy rapport you carried with him started with sharing jokes about how trashed other people got at the reception, and eventually developing into a true and close friendship. 
It was for the best because the more you got to know Jake, it became clear to you that he didn't want the same things that you did. He was focused on his career and didn't have time for a partner. When he did talk about settling down, it was never in an authentic way, more joking that he was waiting to swoop in if Coyote's marriage fell apart or that his Mama would set him up with a nice southern belle who wanted to give her twelve grandkids. Jake would claim he was too busy for a relationship, away from home too much to be steady. However, none of that seemed to stop him from finding time for you, which is probably why you hadn't been able to completely repress your feelings for him despite some valiant efforts. 
Just today, after a failed lunch date with someone from Tinder, you texted Jake disheartened. He hadn't hesitated first to ask if you were okay and then invited you over for dinner to tell him all about it. He had even promised to cook you whatever you wanted. A special treat guaranteed to make you feel better, considering Jake's superb culinary skills. 
You walk into Jake's house without knocking or ringing the bell, knowing he left the door unlocked in anticipation of your arrival. After securing the front door's lock into place, you toe off your shoes, making sure to set them neatly in line with the others there. Jake's home is clean and tidy, just like it always is; the organization of the entry is no exception. You know from the smells and sounds wafting towards you that he must still be cooking, which is odd because he's almost always done by the time you show up. 
Venturing further into the house you see him, standing in the kitchen, with a baby strapped to his chest. It's an unexpected sight, and you're frozen by it. Jake's in a casual white teeshirt, jeans, and a dark navy blue sling with a camo pattern wrapped tightly around him, securing a tiny infant in place against his broad chest. His hair is fluffy like it often is on his days off, and the golden strands fall across his forehead. Seeing it like this always creates an instinctual desire to run your fingers through it. However, you can hardly even process that thought because you're so distracted by the bundle on his chest. Music is playing on his record player, and he is humming along. 
Jake suddenly stops the humming, and the prep he is doing, looking down at the baby. After a pause, a smile pulls at the edges of his lips, his eyes crinkle before he drops a kiss on the infant's head. And it's like everything is right. Jake with a baby seems so natural. The fact that he exists any other way than with a baby in his arms every day feels wrong. Your heart starts beating harder in your chest, and a thought pops into your head, instantly taking deep root: Jake needs a baby of his own. Right now — like yesterday, actually. 
You don't know what sound you must have made, but Jake looks up and finally notices you standing in the hallway. He doesn't appear at all startled as a wide grin spreads across his face as he greets you, "Howdy there, Doll!"  
"You have a baby," you say stupidly in an entirely delayed response. 
"Yeah, this little guy is Jackson. Coyote and the Mrs wanted a date day, so I offered to watch the baby for them. They were supposed to be here two hours ago to pick him up, but I'm sure they just got caught up." Jake laughs and presses another kiss to Jackson's head. Before continuing on, "I hope you don't mind."
"No, I don't mind," you manage to breathe out, unable to tear your eyes off Jake or even pretend you're not staring. He quirks an eyebrow at you but otherwise doesn't comment. After he gestures for you to join him, he returns to the cutting board in front of him. You are transfixed; when you sit down at the bar in the kitchen, it occurs to you that you should probably say something and not just stare like an idiot. "Do you want me to take him?"
"I think he is just fine here," Jake says, examining the sleeping baby strapped to his chest again. Jackson has hardly moved since you showed up, clearly passed out, not disturbed by the music or any of the kitchen sounds. 
"At least let me help finish cooking then?" You request. 
"No, Ma'am. Bubba and I have this dinner taken care of. I did pick up that wine you like from the store. Maybe you can open it up for us?" 
Entering the kitchen, you pull out two wine glasses from a cabinet. Opening the fridge you see your preferred wine stocked, as well as a few of your other favorite drinks stored there. Warmth blooms in your chest that Jake picked up things for you when he was at the store last. It was touching that he would take care to buy something he would never touch but getting it anyway just to have beverages you prefer on hand. After pouring the wine, you set one glass next to Jake's cutting board, making sure it's in easy reach for him. 
"Thank you," he says appreciatively. You sigh and lean against him, pressing your face into the bicep of his arm, careful not to disturb Jackson or the sling as you do. Closing your eyes, you breathe him in, looking for the subtle cedar scent of his cologne to soothe you. However, only a hint of it tickles your nose, the cedar not as strong as it usually is. Today, Jake smells more like clean laundry and his natural musk than anything else. You are surprised to find it still does the trick in helping settle your nerves, though. Jake hums but doesn't protest your closeness, instead asking, "Long day?" 
You don't answer with words, just humming noncommittally against his arm. You leave your face pressed there for a moment longer. "Not enough wine to talk about it yet," you eventually say into his arm before pulling away. Settling on the other side of the counter again, you take a long drink of the wine you poured. Deciding to admire Jake again, you ask, "How was your day?"
"It was pretty good. Javy dropped Jackson off this morning. We had tummy time, went on a walk, and to the grocery store to get things for dinner. Then we got a little cranky, so we rocked in the lazy boy for a while." You took a moment to picture Jake doing these activities and can't decide which is most swoon worthy. Jake is always swoon worthy, of course, but knowing that he was caring for a baby while doing it feels like an extra kick to the stomach or maybe ovaries. 
"And?" You ask him, taking another drink of your wine and pillowing your face on your palm. 
"And what?" Jake asks. 
"What else did you and Jackson do today? I want to hear every detail." 
Jake gives into your request easily. Starting his description of the day over, he tells you how even though he has babysat before, the Machados were still anxious to leave Jackson alone here when they dropped him off that morning. Jake told you about tummy time, which toys they liked and which were uninteresting. How long their walk was, and what they saw. He told you about the old woman who fawned over them in the store and how they helped her with getting her groceries to the car. It was endearing that Jake used the first person plural 'we' as if he and Jackson were a team with equal agency in their day's activities. It was especially cute when Jake told you about the tantrum they had thrown earlier in the afternoon as if he had been crying right along with his godson. 
Just as dinner was finished and you were setting the table, Jackson woke up and started to get fussy. Jake cooed to the baby affectionately, leaving to the guest room, where Javy had stuffed almost a car full of supplies for Jake to watch Jackson. Some of the just-in-case supplies included toys and clothes Jackson wouldn't even be able to use until he was at least a year old.  
When Jake comes back, both he and Jackson are wearing different clothes. Jake is in a soft green shirt and sweats, while Jackson is now wearing a giraffe onesie. He has the baby propped on his hip and doesn't offer you any explanation aside from that they had an accident. Then he sees that you have plated and set everything for dinner at the dining room table, and he offers a soft thank you. 
You watch as he balances Jackson on his hip and starts following the written out directions for making a bottle that's taped to his fridge. Jake isn't someone who struggles, and you know that this is something that he is fully capable of doing, but you also can't help but think that it would be easier for him if he had two free hands. So, you gently pull Jackson from his arms and into your own instead. 
The baby blinks up at you, his eyes still soft and sleepy. He babbles a bit of nonsense but otherwise makes no protest at you. Jackson has the same brown eyes and skin tone as his father. Even with his chubby cheeks, you can tell that the little boy is going to be Coyote's mini-me. The similarities in their appearance are so close it's like the universe had just hit copy and paste. 
He is so cute you can't stop the grin that stretches across your lips when Jackson snuggles into you. One of his hands starts grabbing at your shirt's fabric while he absently gnaws at his other one. The little boy completely steals your attention as you walk around the living room and dining room with him. Asking him how he feels about his day with his Uncle Jake, pausing for his babbling like they were real answers. Jake comes up behind you several minutes later, setting a steady hand on the small of your back.
 "Here, let me take him," Jake mutters practically in your ear while reaching for Jackson. 
"No," you protest, turning away from Jake's reach. "You've had him all day. I've only gotten to hold him for a few minutes." 
"Now, darling," Jake drawls. 
"Don't darling me."
"Doll," He says 
"Don't Doll me either." You snap, though the aggression of it is completely manufactured. 
"Fine, fine," Jake says, holding his hands up. "You can have him for a few more minutes, but then it's my turn again."  
"How is that fair?" 
"It's fair because he is my godson." 
You pout at Jake, and he pouts back." I can't believe you're going to be a baby hog like this. Don't you know sharing is caring?" 
"Jackson isn't a rental car, sweetheart. Can't just hand him out to anybody."
"So what? You don't trust me with him?" 
"No," Jake says, suddenly dropping all of his dry, teasing tone. "Of course, I trust you with him. Of course, I trust you."
Jake steps closer when he says this, crowding a bit into your personal space. His sea glass green eyes hold you in place, and you don't think you imagine that they flick downwards, that he has his sights set on your lips, that Jake could be considering kissing you. However, a breath later, he is swooping Jackson out of your arms and into his own, quickly back peddling. 
"You can have the baby back after I feed him, okay? I don't want to risk him throwing up on that pretty blouse you've got on." 
"Kidnaper! Baby Snatcher!" You half gasp, half yell, and start to chase after Jake as he runs away, holding Jackson close and carefully but still managing to evade you.  
You're both laughing, and Jackson has started joyfully screeching as well when the doorbell rings, startling all three of you. Jake hands Jackson to you wordlessly before going to check who's at the door. It only takes a minute for him to come back with Coyote in tow. Who immediately rushes to sweep his baby from your arms and press kisses all over his cherub face. 
After Javy examined his son to ensure nothing was out of sorts, he handed Jackson back to you to hold while he and Jake packed up all of his stuff and moved the car seat. This was only after he made a sly comment about how good you looked with a baby in your arms, though. 
When you are alone with Jackson again, you take a moment to admire yourself in the mirror hanging on the wall. It wasn't such a hard thing for you to imagine holding a baby, and it looking normal, like something right, especially when you start to picture one with Jake's features or one that would take more after you, possibly even some sweet mix. The feeling of casual want that started from seeing Jake when you first arrived suddenly twists into an unexpected ache and intense need. 
You expect it to let up, but it doesn't. Rather, the feeling smolders in you, burning hotter and hotter until it feels slightly consuming. Seeing Jake hug and kiss Jackson goodbye, promising they would spend another day together soon, nearly does you in. Heating your feelings from a low simmer to a roaring boil. 
When you and Jake finally sit down to actually have dinner, it gets a little hotter with every sip of wine you take. Every time that Jake smiles and his eyes crinkle around the edges, the way he asks about your failed date with the perfect mix of sympathy and care, even the way he reheated dinner, all adds to the fire. As Jake is starting to put away the leftovers from dinner, refusing to let you help, you can't keep it in anymore, and you boil over. 
"Jackson was so precious," you say, casually swirling the bit of drink you have left around in the glass.  
"Little mans is so fun. I love him. It's always a treat to babysit," 
"You were really great with him today." 
"Aw, thanks Doll. Now, what do you want to do with the rest of the night? Play a game, watch a movie? We can do anything you want."
"Anything I want?"
"Yes, ma'am," Jake says easily as he pops the lids of his pyrex container into place.  
"I want a baby." You say in a quick breath. You nearly slap your hand over your mouth in horror that had just jumped out of your mouth. You really haven't had enough wine to be this bold, but then again, maybe you were a little intoxicated on having seen Jake be so domestic. 
"What?" he asks with a laugh, probably thinking he misheard you. You grip the edge of the cool countertop trying to steady your nerves and prevent your hands from shaking. 
"Jake, I want a baby," you tell him more slowly, making sure each word comes out clearly. 
"No, you don't," he laughs, shaking his head. He starts tossing dirty dishes into the sudsy water of the sink and stacking up the food containers to put in the fridge. Jake turns away from you before saying, "I thought you've said you didn't want kids."
"It's complicated," you explain softly. "Are people not allowed to change their minds about things anymore?" 
"Oh, so are you debating or like —"
"I don't really know how to say this more clearly. I want to have a baby with you, Jake." 
He freezes. You see his shoulders tense, and he stares into the fridge for a long moment, slowly finishing storing the leftovers. When he closes the fridge, he still doesn't look at you immediately. 
"You want me to be the father of a child you have? You want to have my baby?" Jake asks you incredulously. You gulp, now feeling entirely too vulnerable to speak, so you just nod in agreement instead. Jake's eyes are piercing, and his body language is tense as he stands in front of the sink again. He heaves a heavy sigh, his lips flattening into a tight line. Then he scrubs his hands over his face before narrowing his eyes at you, "This is not a very funny joke." 
"It's not a joke, Jake. I want a baby, and I know you would be a good father." When Jake's demeanor still doesn't change, you continue on hurriedly. "I think we could do the whole platonic coparent thing easily enough. We get along so well, and we're already such good friends." 
There is a long pause where he does not say anything, turning on the sink, waiting for the water to heat, and sudsing up a scrub daddy sponge. Only once this task is started does he answer you in a very stoic, perfectly level tone, "No, I don't think I can do that. I can't just sleep with you."
"Oh, well. I see. Forget that I asked, please." You mutter, embarrassed but trying to not let the sting of rejection affect your tone. You knew that this could backfire, but you didn't think it would feel this bad. Feel like the pit of your stomach falling so low you are almost nauseous. 
"I'm sorry, Dolly." 
"It's okay, Jake, really. It's just the wine getting to me."
"Are you going to ask someone else?" 
"What?" 
"Are you going to ask someone else to give you a baby?" Jake asks in a gruff tone. 
You wouldn't actually, you wouldn't want one without Jake. In fact, this urge to have a child came from seeing him. However, you didn't know how else to play off your out-of-pocket request than to commit to the bit. Nonchalantly, you say, "Maybe." 
"I could help you find someone," he offers. 
"Please, Jake. It's okay you said no. You don't have to try and fix my situation."
He practically ignores you, asking, "What about Rooster?"
"I'm sure that I would have fun with the process," you say. Jake, who has focused himself with dedication on the dishes, looks up at you sharply. He quickly looks away again as you continue, "I'd be worried about having a baby that's born with a full mustache, though. So, no, thank you." 
"I'm sure Fritz would be happy to help you out." 
"No —"
"Harvard—" 
"No Hangman. Stop," You say much harder with emphasis, cutting him off and leaving no room for argument. 
"I tell you no for one thing, and suddenly I'm Hangman to you?"
"No, you're Hangman when you disregard the people around you, no matter what they say. You're Hangman when you decide something's a mission objective, and you refuse to let it go. This isn't your problem to fix or one to pawn off on one of your friends." 
"You made it my problem when you just asked me to give you a baby," Jake says, frustrated. Roughly scrubbing the dishes, rinsing, and setting them in the drying rack. 
"Well, the moment you said no, it's not your problem anymore. I'm absolving you of responsibility. It's my problem, and I will find someone for myself to put up with me, at least for a night." You joke, trying to lighten the mood again, not wanting to ruin the whole night from this mishap. Jake doesn't react more than his face darkening significantly, a deep frown pulling at his lips as he rinses the last dish and closes the dishwasher. 
"Put up with you?" He asks, his eyebrows knitting together. Jake reaches for a dish towel to dry off his hands, and you're momentarily distracted by the thick fingers and web of veins tracing up his arm. It's a better sight than meeting Jake's intense eyes, those eyes that can stare you down and leave no room for you to hide. 
"I mean, I know I'm a lot, but I think even I can get someone to fuck me once or twice. If I want and am very lucky, I'll only need one night. There are also other options, of course, like sperm banks and adoption. Let's just let it go. Okay?" When you don't get an immediate response, you glance at Jake once more. He is staring at you, but it's not a look you like. He's looking at you like you are a problem to be fixed, a puzzle to solve, an item to take off his to-do list. So you force a chuckle out and smile.  
"I don't think I want to. Actually, I can't let this conversation go." 
"We have to," you insist. 
"Why?"
"Because Jakers, it doesn't have anywhere else to go. I expressed a stupid desire without thinking. It was awkward, and that's okay. It doesn't have to stay that way, though. Now we laugh and forget it. There is no other option." 
"A lot. Put up with. Stupid desires," Jake scoffs the words as he rounds the kitchen island. He spins the bar stool chair you're sitting on by the back, turning you to face him. Then he sets his hands on the marble countertop on either side of you, effectively boxing you in. Even sitting on the tall bar stool, you have to tilt your head a bit to look up at him. When your eyes meet again, the green isn't as soft or kind as you're expecting. "I don't like how you're talking about yourself right now." 
"I'm just being honest. I'm taxing to deal with; people get tired of me. My past relationships have certainly taught me that I'm only desirable under the right conditions. And I am stupid. I just ruined our whole night because I couldn't keep my mouth shut. What kind of normal person asks one of their best friends to fuck a baby into them unprompted?"
"Oh wow, I'm not even sure where to start with all that." Jake breathes. You can't take seeing his furrowed brow and disappointed frown. So instead, you examine his right arm that's stretched by you, mapping out the moles and freckles there. "You've developed a warped sense of the truth, Doll."  
It's your turn to scoff and roll your eyes. When you do, the arm you've been studying shifts, and Jake cups your cheek. Gently, he urges your face to turn back towards his, and a calloused thumb sweeps across your cheekbone. "Listen to me good now. The things you want and desire they ain't stupid, and neither are you. You're not too much. You're just enough."
"Thank you, Jake." You whisper. And while his words are kind, you don't really believe them.  
"Don't say thank you."
"What else am I supposed to say?"
"Say you believe me and mean it," Jake urges you. 
"I don't want to lie to you. That's not who we are, that's not our friendship," You say. Jake's hand drops from your cheek, and he steps back quickly as if he's been burned. After you had been so surrounded by him, you nearly reach out to urge him close again. Running a hand through his hair, you can tell he's resisting the urge to pace. 
"Is that our friendship, one built on honesty?" 
"I thought so." 
"Then I've failed you, and I've failed us because it's not." 
"Jake, what are you talking about?" You ask him, confused. He shakes his head at you and doesn't respond, instead backing away further until he is abandoning you in the kitchen. Swiftly, you stand to follow him, "Where are you going?" 
"I'm leaving." 
"And going where? This is your house," you remind him. You've caught up to him in the doorway of his bedroom, where he's grabbing a hat and his wallet. "I'm sorry I ruined tonight, and I'll leave. You have to be honest with me before I do, though. I have to know we're going to be okay tomorrow." 
"I can't," Jake says tersely, not meeting your eyes and attempting to sidestep you in the doorway. 
"I was wrongly under the impression there wasn't anything you couldn't do, Hangman. But I guess we are finding a lot of things you just can't do tonight, aren't we?" You aren't expecting the little lash out of a taunt to get you anywhere. Jake is normally always calm, cool, and collected, acting with decisive precision. However, nearly as soon as you've finished speaking, Jake's hands are on your arms, and he backs you up until you gently hit the wall of the hallway across from his door. 
"You're asking for more self-restraint than I have, Doll." He warns roughly. The sudden movement doesn't make you back down like he was probably expecting. Instead, the rush makes you feel emboldened. 
"I don't care. I can accept you don't want a baby with me, that you don't want to fuck me. I can accept that you want to force me to talk, but I can't accept you making me question our friendship." 
"Oh god. You really don't understand. My honesty is not going to make this better," he warns. 
"Yes, I do. Whatever it is, please tell me. I can think of many things you could be referring to, like that I'm not attractive to you. How I would make a terrible mother. Maybe I'm not a good friend. Or you don't actually like spending time with me. Whatever it is, you have to tell me. I've never thought you would lie to me. So, I need to know, or it's going to drive me crazy." 
"There you are, all twisted up again," Jake sighs. 
"And whose fault is that?" You snap back. Jake still has you pressed against the wall, so you set your hands on his broad chest with the intention of pushing him away. However, he doesn't budge; in fact, he does the opposite, coming even closer so he is flush against you. You refuse to tilt your chin to look up at him as he looms, rather only lifting your eyes in a cold stare. "I shouldn't be surprised that you're going to leave me hanging to dry, but you could at least —"
You don't get to finish the thought because a hand has snaked to hold the side of your neck, thumb tucking under your chin, turning your face upwards to Jake's waiting lips. The first brush of his lips on yours doesn't line up quite right, but that doesn't stop your breath from catching. Shifting to get a better angle, Jake applies two more feather light kisses. Your hands, which are still resting on his chest, creep up, and you loop them around his shoulders, using the leverage to lift higher on your toes and get closer to him. 
This prompts him to deepen his next kiss, lips moving harder against yours. When you open your mouth wider in invitation, Jake's tongue traces along your bottom lip but doesn't dive in. You whine when Jake pulls away to take a breath. 
"Forgive me, Doll, I should've asked first." 
"Asked what?" You wonder, not moving your eyes away from his lips and strategizing how to get them back on yours. You think if you could just get a little higher, you would be able to kiss him without Jake needing to bend down so much. 
"May I kiss you?" He asks. 
"Yes, please." You answer immediately. You tug your hold on his shoulders, hoping it will urge him to get right back to it. Jake doesn't, though. His hand shifts from your neck to cup your cheek again, his other leaving the wall to settle on your waist. 
"Can I touch you?"
"Yes, Jake." His hand traces up your side from your waist and back down again in what is a soothing motion. It's too soft and delicate for what you want right now, though, so you tug on his neck again, pressing your chest into his. He gives in this time, molding his lips to yours once more. 
When his tongue meets yours, a low rumble emulates from Jake's chest, and the sound sends a new wave of arousal coursing through you. Reaching up, you push off Jake's hat, not caring where it falls, only that it's no longer in your way. When you thread your fingers into his hair, it's smooth and silky, providing no resistance when you tug it. 
"Tell me what you want, Doll," Jake says when your lips part again. 
"You. I want you," you whimper, tugging his hair again. A wide grin breaks across Jake's face, and his eyes crinkle around the edges. He tucks his face into your neck, and you can still feel him smiling. 
"What else do you want?" He questions. When his lips brush a spot that makes you stretch your neck to give him easier access, he nips it lightly. You stumble, coming up with a response, just sighing his name as he finds another spot to bite. "Come on now, you said it so pretty earlier. Tell me again."
Once his request processes through your lust filled brain, you push on Jake's shoulders once more. This time, he doesn't resist, backing away from you and creating some space between your heated bodies. Sagging against the wall, you try to catch your breath while examining Jake. His hair is disheveled now, some of it falling across his forehead. 
"You said no, you don't want that with me. You don't want this with me," You answer, finally dropping your gaze to examine the grain of the hardwood floor near your feet. Confusion at this sudden turn in attitude from him settles over you as your head clears. One of Jake's hands enters your field of vision, turned upwards in an offering. "Come sit, we need to set some things straight." 
Taking Jake's hand, he curls his fingers with yours and gently tugs you back through the doorway of his room. With his direction, you perch on the edge of his four poster bed. Jake presses a kiss to the back of your hand and lets it go to settle on the accent chair that's in the corner. 
"We'll be honest, right?" You say hesitantly, already missing the feeling of Jake's hand in yours. 
"Yes. I'll be honest." Jake answers reassuringly before continuing, "From the beginning, I never wanted to be friends with you. 
"You didn't?" 
"Nope," he says, popping the p. "I never wanted to be friends, and then once we were friends, I was stuck. You didn't seem to want the same things as I did, and I'm not the kind of man to complain about the friend zone."
"I haven't friend you zoned you," you say, scandalized at the suggestion. 
"Just earlier tonight, you asked me to have a baby with you, platonically," Jake deadpans. 
"Because I can't conceptualize you wanting me any other way." 
"I want you. I've always wanted you, but not platonically, baby." 
Baby. Jake was a casual sweet name user, there was doll, sweetheart, honey, darling, those all were commonplace, but baby was new. Hearing it makes butterflies erupt in your stomach. He called you baby, and he has wanted you. You could have had him from the start if your fears and insecurities hadn't held you back. 
"I'm sorry," you whisper. 
"I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to need me, to love me," Jake explains with more hesitation than you've ever heard from him as if he is tip-toeing through this conversation. Worrying your fingers together, you have to take a calming breath to settle your own hesitation before answering him, "Well, that's easy because I do."  
A gleeful grin stretches across his face, and it's so bright you feel a matching one appear. He rubs a hand over his face, hiding it from view for a moment, and when you see his face again, he is still smiling. He looks as if he is trying to bite it back but can't quite manage. 
"Well, alright, a few more things we have to iron out then. I love spending time with you. You've never not been desirable to me." You can't help a disbelieving laugh when Jake says that, and the look he gives you is disapproving. "I mean that. I was thinking about it even the time I came over to bring you soup when you had the flu. Wanted to bundle you up and crawl into bed with you." 
"Oh, come on, that can't be true. I was so gross." 
"It is. I promised I would be honest, and I'm not going to be breaking any of the promises I make to you. Can you believe that?" 
You study his face, tracing over his nose, and jaw. He still has the hint of a grin that hasn't slid off his features yet, and he looks so very earnest. You can't imagine that Jake would be in the business of lying to you, and the openness he is offering makes it feel like you can believe him. That you can keep trusting him just like you always have. "I can believe that."
"Great. So, baby —" 
"Yes?" You say entirely too breathily before he can even finish the sentence. It was really a surprise how much hearing him say that already turned your brain to some form of liquid. 
"I want to sleep with you," Jake says plainly. 
"Then why are you all the way over there?" 
"I didn't want you to feel any sort of pressure while we were talking, and wasn't confident I could keep my hands to myself." 
Standing up from his bed, you walk steadily over to the chair Jake is sitting in. Crawling into his lap more confidently than you truly feel, his hands automatically slip around your waist, steading you against him. Holding eye contact with him, you say, "I don't want you to keep your hands to yourself." 
"Fuck, you're going to kill me," he sighs, tightening his hold on you. You go to kiss him again, but when you do, he blurts out, "I don't have any STDs or STIs." His cheeks stain a little pink, and he looks as surprised by the declaration as you are. 
"That's good to know. I'm clean too," you inform him. 
"Good to know. I just thought it was important to put it out there. Got to do safety checks first and everything. I don't want us to have any questions or be unsure about anything, and it's important to consider all the factors involved with —" Jake's rambling comes to a halt when you dip your face into his neck, kissing at the underside of his jaw softly. 
"Jake," you say, linking your arms around his neck and playing with the short hair there. "Will you give me a baby?" 
"Fuck, Doll. I promise to give you anything you want. The ring, the house, the baby. It's yours." 
You don't waste any time kissing him. When your lips meet, all the hesitancy and nervousness that Jake had while you were talking melts away. His mouth confidently teases yours open for his tongue to quickly follow. Your hands thread into Jake's hair again as his start to roam your back, sides, and arms. When you wiggle closer on his lap, he groans and grabbing a handful of your ass, lifting you up. Jake stands easily and walks you back to the bed. 
He doesn't drop you on the bed like you're expecting. Instead, he sets you down gently, one of his hands cradling the back of your head as he does. Laying on your back with Jake standing over you reminds you just how large and broad he is. 
With surprisingly little fanfare, he pulls off his shirt and tosses it to the side. Jake shirtless is not a new sight; in fact, it's a tantalizing one you've seen too often. He has every right to be proud of his body, you know how much time he dedicates at the gym. So it shouldn't be a surprise that, never one to be self conscious, Jake hardly could be found wearing a shirt if the situation didn't require it. However, you realize this is the first time that you don't just have to look but can also touch. 
Wanting to get the nervousness of undressing out of the way, you sit up, quickly discarding your shirt and tossing it aside. Before you can shimmy out of your bottoms, Jake's large hands are on your wrists, stopping you. 
"You're doing my job," he chastises huskily. Jake is slow and meticulous in removing your clothes, running his hands over all the skin that's exposed to him. When he pulls off your bra, leaving you only in your panties, he just sits back and stares for a moment. Such intense scrutiny from his gaze has you covering your chest, crossing your legs, and looking away. 
"I wasn't planning on sleeping with anyone tonight," you mutter, knowing that you don't have the sexiest underwear on and perhaps were not as physically prepared for this intimacy as you would like. 
"Good," he says lowly. "No one else is going to get to see you like this anymore." Grabbing an ankle in each big hand, he spreads you out for him. He slides off your panties so you're completely bare, and takes up his staring once more. "Ain't you fucking gorgeous?" Jake mutters and you realize he ain't talking about you necessarily; he's talking to your pussy. Whining his name gets Jake to shove off his sweatpants, leaving him in a pair of dark grey boxer briefs as he crawls over your body. 
As he kisses you again, your hands greedily explore his exposed skin. His chest hair proving to be much softer than you had imagined it, and his shoulders are taut as he holds himself up. While Jake's lips move with yours, you use a leg to encourage him to ease more of his weight into you, seeking friction. Kissing down your neck he lavishes attention to your breasts, licking and sucking his way across your skin. 
"You know, I was too busy to make dessert," he says when he reaches your core. One of his hands teasingly traces all around the skin. Placing a kiss on your inner thigh, he asks, "Do you mind filling in?" 
"Jake, you don't need to." You say, trying not to squirm when his fingers dip between your lips. 
"I want to. Do you not want me to?" 
"I know it's not everyone's thing," you answer, giving him an out. 
"It's my thing," Jake says. His eyes lock onto the cleft of you, and he licks his lip, biting at the bottom one. Reaching up, he grabs one of your hands and brings it up to his hair, encouraging you to thread your fingers there. His fingers that are teasing you spread you open more, and he groans, "Oh yeah you're my thing." 
Jake's tongue traces over you, probing until he finds the spot that makes your hips jump. Once Jake finds your clit he doesn't waste his time. Widening his mouth, he latches on and sucks. While he starts gently, he ramps up to sucking hard and twisting his tongue as he does. When you pull at his hair, he moans encouragingly.
"More," you request tugging his hair gently. Jake listens, sliding a finger into you. Whispering praise into your thighs about how pretty you are and how good you taste. You don't know how long Jake spends between your thighs, but he doesn't seem to be in any hurry. He sucks and licks, fucking his finger into you until the sound is sloppy and wet. He slips a second finger in, stretching you, occasionally scissoring them wider open in you. 
Even when you are whining and gasping, working against Jake's tongue, he doesn't let up. You don't have the mind to worry how you're trying to suffocate him with your thighs, which he keeps pushing back open with no complaints. All that you can focus on is Jake, how good he is making you feel, and how close you're getting. It's a matter of time until you're shuddering and falling apart for him.  
Continuing to lavish attention even as you jerk with sensitivity, Jake seems content to keep eating you out. You try to pull him away by his hair, but he just licks into you harder. "Jake, enough," you whine, trying to wiggle away from his mouth.
 "I haven't had my fill yet, Doll," he says, pulling his mouth off you but not going far, pressing wet kisses to your thighs. 
"I haven't even seen your cock yet, and I don't know why it isn't in me." You say, trying to reason with him. It doesn't come out very strong, though as Jake's fingers curl in you, making your cunt flutter. 
"Patience is a virtue," he teases.
"Being virtuous isn't really at the forefront of my mind at the moment."
Jake sighs dramatically and presses one more kiss to your pussy before sitting back on his haunches. You can see the hard outline of him in his briefs as he gets off the bed. You watch his every move closely, more than ready to finally see him naked.
However, Jake is clearly taking some sort of joy from making you wait, because he detours to start picking up your hastily thrown clothing. As he is laying them out on the chair, you lose your patience. Grabbing one of his decorative pillows, you throw it at him. It smacks him between his shoulder blades before dropping to the floor with a thunk. 
Spinning to face you, Jake crosses his arms over his chest, making his biceps bulge, his eyebrow raised. "Did you just hit me with a pillow?" 
"No, I wouldn't do that," You deny trying to look innocent. Jake tsks at you, picking up the makeshift weapon and setting that neatly on the chair as well. 
"Being desperate for my cock isn't an excuse to misbehave, baby." 
"Big talk for someone who still hasn't shown it to me. It's okay if you don't have a pretty dick, Jake. It won't change how I feel. I'm still going to want you to fuck me."  
Goading someone into action was a wonderful tactic you had learned over the course of your friendship with Jake. Something he easily did with others, and something tonight that it proved was just as effective against him because he doesn't even respond to your words. Sliding off his underwear, his dick springs free. He's hard from eating you out, and just from the first glance you get, it's clear there isn't one thing for him to be self-conscious about. 
The fleshy pink length is nestled among dark hair, and the size of him is nothing to dismiss. It's a very symmetrical cock, lining up nicely with his balls and adonis belt. Bouncing a bit as he gets back on the bed, you can't bring yourself to look away. You know he is going to fill you so deliciously. When he's finally close enough for you to touch, you hesitate though. 
"Speechless?" Jake wonders, with no ounce of shame or self-consciousness present. 
"Can I touch?" You ask. Jake nods, taking your hand and bringing it to your mouth. You suck a few of your fingers in, wetting them with your spit. Then he guides your hand to his dick, encouraging you to wrap it around him. Jake's hand covers yours for the first few strokes, showing you what he likes, but then it falls away, letting you explore. He grunts when you trace one of the veins that runs along the side, following it down to cup his balls. He allows your teasing for a few more strokes before he pulls you close, kissing you hard. 
The hard planes of Jake's naked body pressed against yours is nearly too much. He is so close and yet not close enough. With some gentle maneuvering, Jake is in between your legs and checking that the position is comfortable for you. Jake runs his length through your lips, the head bumping into your clit. Despite all the encouragement and build up, he's still not in a hurry. When his cock is wet from you, it starts to slide effortlessly. Losing your patience, you cup Jake's face, making him look you in the eyes. 
"Jake, fuck me now. Please." You say. He nods, kissing you slowly. Then finally, he grabs his cock lining himself up and pushing the tip into you. When his pelvis meets yours, he holds himself there, your breaths mingling together in light pants as he stretches you out. The time he gives you to stretch and adjust is necessary, but once you have, Jake fills you deliciously. 
"How're you feeling baby?" He asks. Your thumb moves across his cheekbone, soothing until the worry lines between his eyebrows disappear. Only responding when you know you're okay and so is he, "Perfect. Feel so full of you."
"I'll fill you up," Jake promises. 
"Yeah?" You ask. He hums his agreement and rocks his hips against your experimental, drawing a small gasp from you. 
"Promise," he says, starting a lazy punctuated rhythm, moving his hips against yours. Your hands explore the skin of his back as he thrusts into you. You hike a leg up on Jake's hips, letting him get a little deeper in you. The action makes him moan, and he pulls your other leg up around his hip, too. 
Hooking your ankles together, you use the leverage to encourage Jake to fuck into you faster. Digging your heels into his ass and lifting your hips up to meet each of his thrusts increases the heat boiling between you. His face falling into your neck, Jake starts whispering dirty praise about how good you feel around him and how long he's been dreaming about this. 
Stamina clearly isn't something that Jake is lacking in. He fucks you until you are both dripping with sweat, and you are begging for him noncoherently, unable to process anything but how good his cock feels. He maintains a steady rhythm, snapping his hips to meet yours the whole time. 
"You feel so good. Want to get you there again. What do you need?" Jake pants huskily. 
"Harder," you answer shakily, snaking your hand to play with your clit. You're close, and you know it's not going to take much more for you to get there with how long Jake's been building you up. He listens, slamming his hips more pointedly into you, grinding his pelvis every time he bottoms out. 
Huffing, Jake pulls out of you a few minutes later. Making you cry out wantonly, reaching for his retreating body. He takes a moment to kiss both your hands that he unhooks from his neck. Then, shushing you gently, he grabs a pillow and lifting your hips, he slides it under them.
"It's okay, just a little better angle." He explains to you. You flop back on the bed, content to have Jake manhandle you any which way he wants if it means he'll be in you again.  
"Oh, you're such a needy thing, aren't you?" He asks, as your cunt clenches around nothing, empty and wanting him. His fingers dipping in to play with the wet dripping from you. A flash of shame passes through you as he asks that. You drop your arms that had been reaching out for him back to the bed, and you screw your eyes shut, turning your face to the side looking away from him. 
Jake had already got you to cum once, and it was possible he didn't want you all over him as he was trying to get off now. Preferences were probably something y'all should have talked about more in depth before jumping into intimacy. You didn't want him to think you were overly needy or hard to please. You didn't want to ruin what you and Jake could have the very first time together. Noticing the shift in your enthusiasm Jake immediately stops pressing his cock into you, worriedly asking, "What's wrong?" 
"Nothing," you answer, staring up at the ceiling looking for patterns there. It's easier to play this off if you don't have to look at him; easier if you don't have to acknowledge the unexpected, unwelcome swell of emotion that's overcoming you. 
"Doll, look at me." He orders you, but you shake your head, refusing. Jake grips your chin, tilting your face to meet his eyes. They are intense studying you intently, completely focused on you. "The honesty we just promised each other needs to extend to sex nearly more than anywhere else going forward with this relationship," Jake says seriously. His hard dick is pressed against your thigh, and you don't know how he's able to have such a level-headed conversation considering the circumstances, just having been balls deep in you a minute ago. "So, what's wrong?" 
"I don't want to be too high maintenance or needy," You sigh, trying to work through your words. Knowing this conversation is important, but also not completely sure how to express what you're feeling. "Sometimes I might seem needy, or maybe I could take a while to cum or not at all, which wouldn't be a reflection of you. I don't want you to think, well, I don't want to be too much for you to change your mind about this, and now I'm ruining the mood with a dumb fucking insecurity."
"Stop," Jake says gently, but leaving no room for argument. "You haven't ruined anything. I'm sorry I called your pussy needy. I didn't know it would make you feel this way. Can I tell you something, though, Doll?" When you give a hesitant nod, Jake's voice drops so low it's nearly gravelly. "I want you to be needy. I want your pussy desperate for my cock, desperate for my cum. I want you as desperate for me as I am for you." 
"You're desperate for me too?"
"Frantically and wildly so." He answers easily. Then he asks with his thumb ghosting over your nub, "Are we okay? Is this still okay?" 
"Yeah, this is good," You sigh, enjoying the zing that runs up your back when he nudges your clit more pointedly. 
Jake grabs his cock, giving it a few languid strokes before he guides it back into you. You push your hips up to meet him. The new angle that the pillow gives him leverage to hit somewhere that's just a delicious feeling. As he rocks into you, his thumb maintains its place on your clit. Your fear of the mood having been ruined proves wrong as the coil in your core quickly builds, pushing you near the edge once more. 
"Cum in me, Jake, please. Give me a baby," you request, your thighs quivering as you near your orgasm. 
As his hips snap nearly frantically, Jake rolls your clit over in nearly the same rhythm. He moans your name a minute later, falling over the edge and spilling inside of you. Though his hips stutter to a stop leaving himself fully seated in you, he continues working over your clit. It doesn't take long until you're dissolving into pleasure along with him. 
The ripples run through your body, and you feel every muscle tense and relax, turning into jelly. Jake grunts when you spasm around him but doesn't move or pull out until you've fully melted into the bed on the downward crest of your peak. 
When he does pull out, he doesn't go far, shifting enough to spoon you. Settling behind you, Jake pulls you close to his chest, wrapping you tight in his arms. His hand is tracing lazy patterns on your hip and occasionally venturing to the soft skin of your belly. You don't have the mind to be self-conscious at the moment, still a little too blissed out. It takes significant brain power to process his question when he asks, "Do you actually want to have a baby?" 
"Do you?" You wonder. 
"You can't answer a question with a question," Jake chastises you. Turning in his arms so you are sprawled against his chest, you snuggle close, nuzzling him affectionately. 
"Do you know how it was seeing you with Jackson today?" You ask him. 
"If it was even half of how it felt seeing you hold him, then I'm sorry." 
"Whatever you felt, double it. Triple it even." You say lightly. "It was enough for me to ask my friend, who I thought could never want me, for a baby." 
"I do want you," Jake immediately reassures you. 
"Thank goodness for baby fever, then. Because at least now we know we want each other," you reason, slowly starting to draw mindless patterns of your own against his skin. 
Jake heaves a sigh and strokes his hand down your back, wondering, "Was this just baby fever?" 
"No," you answer after thinking about it for a long span of silence. "I would have a baby with you. It seems right. I want that, I think." You can feel the relief in his body, hearing that, all his tension easing into relaxation. 
"Good," is the only response he gives you, kissing the crown of your head. You expect more but don't get it. Rather, Jake seems content to just bask in the afterglow. That doesn't seem to be too bad an idea, so you close your eyes, listening to his steady heartbeat.  
When you wake up from your impromptu nap, you're not alone in bed. However, you are now under the covers of a different comforter than there was before, and Jake is no longer acting as your pillow. He is on the other side of the bed, but his hand is stretched out, grazing the middle of your back. 
Rolling to face him, you admire the sight he makes stretched out on the bed, leaning against the headboard. Jake's got a book open, folded in half, clearly abusing the book's binding just so he can have one hand on you. When he notices you sleepily admiring him, Jake shoots you a soft smile. 
"Hey baby," he whispers. 
"Hi," You whisper back scooting closer to him and grab the hand that had been touching you, threading your fingers together. 
"Let's go on a date," Jake suddenly springs on you, squeezing your hand. 
"I would love that," you respond, feeling giddy as butterflies erupt in your stomach. "Want something first, though."
"I already told you I would give you anything you want, and I meant it," Jake says, setting his book on his bedside table and giving you his full attention. 
"Good, because I want round two and a shower, which hopefully has round three involved." 
"Your wish is my command," Jake says easily. You move even closer to him so your lips are only a breath apart. "I meant it, the ring, the house, the baby. I can make it all happen by tomorrow." 
"Let's start with breakfast in bed," you say, kissing him hard. When your lips hardly touch because you're both smiling too wide, well, that actually makes it feel all the better. 
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mydear-corinthian · 8 months ago
Text
Attention || Thomas Shelby x reader
Synopsis: You're a jazz singer and you were invited to Tommy's brother's wedding and you caught his attention Pairing: Thomas Shelby x reader Warnings: SMUT +18, unprotected sex, p in v, breeding kink, dirty talk Notes: Rushed Click here to find the main masterlist. Click here to find the PEAKY BLINDERS masterlist.
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SMUT AHEAD
The newlywed couple, John and Esme Shelby, and their guests gathered on the dance floor to dance while you sang in front of the audience. Swaying your hips to the song's melody, your hands clutched the metallic microphone and locked eyes with the audience.
You had previously attended countless weddings, so being asked to one was not a new experience for you. However, receiving an invitation from the prominent Shelby family? That was an altogether unusual situation, laced with both thrill and fear. You were thoroughly familiar with the Shelby family's reputation, understanding all aspects of their business transactions, the shady realm of their crimes, and the mysterious personas that disguised each member of the family in mystery.
While singing, you noticed that all the Shelby siblings were on the dance floor except for one: Thomas Shelby. He was alone on a big round table, a glass of whiskey in front of him while his lips were decorated by his cigarette. You didn't even noticed that he was looking at you, his ocean-like eyes locking to yours. 
The jazz band had finally finished their performance, and while your bandmates mingled around the large round table, chatting and enjoying drinks, you found yourself lingering behind the stage, separated from them. Memories of the way the gangster had looked at you replayed in your mind, causing a flutter of nerves to dance in your stomach. Butterflies swirled within you, making it impossible to shake off the feeling of unease that had settled in.
Exhaling, you tried to forget his eyes in your mind as you took your metallic cigarette case, getting one of the cancerous stick before putting the case back on your black beaded purse. You flicked the lighter numerous times until you gave up. Groaning in annoyance, you threw the non-working lighter away. 
"Here," a deep voice echoed in your ears. "You can use this." An arm extended towards you, a lighter in hand. You stared at whoever it was, and when your gaze met the man's, your eyes widened. "Oh, Mr. Shelby. I - Thank you," you said, accepting the furious man's offer and successfully lighting your cigarette before returning it to Tommy.
"You were quite impressive up there," he said nonchalantly, flicking his lighter to start his cigarette and joining you. The unexpected praise caused a rush of warmth to flood your cheeks, catching you off guard by his awareness. It was unexpected to receive compliments from someone like him, and you couldn't help but feel a mix of admiration and doubt during the discussion.
You continued to share the story of your journey to becoming a well-known jazz vocalist in South Birmingham as an expression of gratitude. Throughout the conversation, he stayed fairly mute, responding only with a nod. Surprising to you, his stillness concealed a strong involvement with your words. As you chatted enthusiastically unconscious of his shifting stance and the intensity of his gaze as it moved from head to toe, it became clear that he was more than just a passive listener; he was intensely intrigued by your story.
You looked at your pearl watch and read the time. It was already midnight, and there were no available cabs for you to book. "Oh, forgive me, Mr. Shelby, but it's getting late, and I really must make my way home," you exclaimed, a note of urgency in your tone as you rapidly searched through your handbag, double-checking to make sure you hadn't forgotten anything.
"Stay here for tonight; there are no cabs available anymore, and I have a spare room for you to stay in," he said almost instantly. The tone of his voice suggests that he still wants you to be with him.
"Are you sure, sir?" he nodded to your question. The two of you hopped into his car, Tommy drove going to his house with you. 
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
When you finally arrived at his house near the reception, he opened the door and invited you inside. The house wasn't particularly large or small; floral wallpaper was used everywhere, and circular picture frames adorned the large fireplace in the living room. As Tommy entered the house, you laid your white fur-like scarf on the chair.
Your heart raced at the sight of him, each beat echoing in the silence of the room. It was as if you were seeing him through new eyes, taking in the intriguing depth of his gaze, the chiseled lines of his attractive face, and the neatly combed hair that framed it all. He projected an effortless charm while wearing his usual suit, sparking a deeper admiration for his natural charisma.
Tommy did the same thing, starring at you -- your physique, your lovely golden dress, the way your white feather hat hung in your hair. His eyes communicated love and longing simply by looking at you. He knew you even before the reception. He knew who you were.
His hands cupped your cheeks as he approached you. You didn't know what was going on, or so you thought. Your cheeks flushed, and your heart fluttered at his moves.
"May I?" he asked quietly, his voice a smooth whisper that sent thrills down your spine. With a gentle nod, you gave him permission, excitement coursing through every fiber of your being. As his lips touched yours, a burst of energy flowed between you, igniting a passionate flame that appeared to swallow everything. Your breath mixed in the intimate space between you, resulting in a heady symphony of longing. Your hands reflexively moved to his neck, fingers threading through the delicate strands of his hair, while his firm grip on your hips drew you in, erasing any barrier between you. The kiss grew into a gloriously wild dance of lips and tongues, each movement a witness to the sheer intensity of your connection. In that moment, buried in the heat of the embrace, you tasted not only each other's lips, but also the burning need that held you together.
Fortunately, the house was empty, leaving just you and Tommy. He brought you to his bedroom, the air heavy with expectancy as the heated session went on. As you lay on the bed, the springs creaked beneath you, adding rhythm to the intensity of your touch. His lips trailed over your neck, leaving a path of kisses that sent thrills down your spine, each touch leaving its mark as you couldn't help but moan his name in pleasure.
"Mr. Shelby .." you moaned as he sucked the sweet spot of your neck, your legs locking his hips. 
"Tommy." he corrected. 
"I know your name, Mr. Shelby," 
"Then moan it." 
He began to undress you, leaving the floor gripped with your gold-colored heels and lengthy dress. Continuing the kiss, your hands moved to his suit, unbuttoning each one quickly.
Your naked bodies were bound together. His thick fingers found your clit and softly stroked it until his speed quickened, causing your back to arch as you gasped his name aloud.
"Fuck, Tommy.." His hands crumpled the sheets, and his lips curled into a smile, content with what he was doing.
"Does that feel good, mhm? Want me to stop?" he teased as his fingers slowed. Your eyes begged with him.
"No--please, keep going!" you cried, shaking your head. He desires his fingers to strike your cunt.
He stopped, causing you to whine. He laughed, noticing the emotion on your face. He positioned himself in front of your wet cunt before entering you. Because of the unexpected movement, you moaned more loudly than usual.
His pace was first steady, allowing you to adjust his length, but it soon increased. The bed creaked with every thrust he made. Your nails drove into his back due to the pleasure he offered you.
"You like that, love? Who owns this cunt?" he demanded, maintaining his violent thrust. Your breast bounces.
"Yours! Oh god - it feels good, Tommy."
Everything you felt was pleasure and joy. Tommy's cock abuses the area, making you burst with ecstasy. Airy groans and moans echoed around the dim room. You could feel his hot breath on your neck as he rested his head on.
His arm lifted your legs and pushed them towards your chest, allowing his cock to penetrate deeper and deeper inside you. The sudden change of posture hurt, but it was swiftly replaced with pleasure. Your gut swirled, and your cunt clenched on his cock, implying that you were close.
"Fuck - look at you clenching around my cock. Good girl," Tommy praised, his massive arms gripping your legs.
"Tommy, I'm gonna - gonna cum!"
"Me too, love. Cum on my cock, c'mon," he said. "'m going to fill you up, yeah? You like it? Me cumming inside your precious wet pussy?"
"Yes - yes!" you moaned loudly as you approached your climax. Tommy needed a few more thrusts before he released his seed inside of you. He slowly pulled out, spilling his white creamy load into your battered cunt.
He lay down alongside you, passionately kissing your lips.
"Ah, you're good in bed too, Mr. Shelby."
"You did well with your voice training today, Ms. (Y/n)," he taunted before you both went to bed.
1K notes · View notes
picklebunbun · 26 days ago
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summary; You've had relationship problems with Ratio, even through your wedding preparations. You weren't even sure if you wanted to get married and you ultimately chose to leave him at the alter because you couldn't take it anymore
﹒🪼| ౨ৎ˚₊‧ | ↪ ; cw ; this is supposed to make you cry, implied? cheating?mentions of emotional relationship neglect, Dr. Ratio is upset in this one, everyone is invited except those stupid fucking losers (Jade and Sparkle), even idrilla is there
๋࣭ ⭑ Dr. Ratio x GN Reader, Modern AU, you/yours pronouns, you will be referred to spouse, no AGAB, reader doesn't specifically have a dress or suit but will be implied as a 'bride' { they walk down the aisle and wear white },
{ angel's notes 🪽; I know I've been gone for a long time, I just started freshman year and everything has been piling on, I'll try to make more updates with requests. This took way too long }
lıllılı.ıllı.ılılıılıı.lllııılı.
now playing [fish.]
0:26 ———♡——— 3:50
◁◁ ▐ ▌ ▷▷
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italics; thinking | bold; yelling
Silence..
You stare at the stained window, you've been meaning to clean it for a while, but just couldn't find the motivation to do so. The candle by your bedside going out, as you stared at the window for what seems to be hours. Completely empty, eyes growing tired as you continue to patiently wait for your fiance ,
mm,,, no,, that word didn't feel quite right
What else are you supposed to call him anyways? You looked down, of course he did it again, he always does this, what's the point of getting married if you don't have enough time for your partner? If this is what commitment looks like,, then I don't want it
It seemed like the educated man was staying home from work, this always happens, what did you expect? It's not like the relationship was supposed to last this long, you weren't even sure if you wanted to get married in the first place, everything just happened too fast, like everything spiraled in one. Why was it in that moment that you felt so sure that this was the path you wanted to choose? Was it how lonely you were? Veritas wasn't a bad lover, but it would've been preferable if he didn't ignore them most of the time, which was because of work. The thing was , you suspected that there was this co-worker, that Ratio often spent time with, had this crush on him. It was this blonde man, with unbelievably beautiful eyes, flamboyant yet extravagant sense of style, he always smelt like a bakery, vanilla with a hint of floral essence. It definitely made you nervous, it was Aventurine, right?
You brought it up with the Greek man, to which he caressed your back and kissed your panic away. It's not like he's a terrible boyf... err.. fiance. He won't cheat, he's not that type of person. He just has a lot going on, that's why he's at work all the time.. but what if it's to see that shorter man, he could be his type, this is so surreal, I can't feel my face, what do I do? What do I do? I just want to go home..
This deep pit in your stomach became more evident as you..
..held him
Told him that you loved him
Kissed him
You put a hand over their mouth, a jittering feeling over-taking you as you felt more sick. Stop deceiving him like this, he's done so much for you, why can't you see that,
This hollow hole rested in your entire being, nothing had any color. In any moment, there could be an intruder and you wouldn't know, just too distracted by your thoughts swallowing them whole. You grasp for your greasy, unkept hair, been meaning to wash it for days but never got to it. Tears swell up as an air bubble gets lodged in the your throat, gasping for air as you try to get over your anxiety attack, neck feeling sore as you continue soaking in your tears. The room was spinning, it set in on how alone everything was, everything was feeling so uncomfortable now, nothing is correct anymore.
"someone help me.."
a meekly voice erupts,
but no one will hear you
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The scenery was beautiful, a vibrant orange and purple sunset cascaded over the venue. It was at a ginormous church, freshly polished ivory walls, decorated with gold linings. The roof was painted with cherubs, faint but noticeable. Golden frames make sure to accentuate the oil painting of Mother Mary. An eccentric church, Dr. Ratio would've pegged it to be a catholic institution, to which, as always, he was correct.
Pillars centering towards the pink blossom archway. Herta was there as well, she just wanted to be there to judge everything rather than being emotional support, you looked at Dr. Ratio inspecting everything, he was always so meticulous about these types of buildings. From what you recalled, Veritas used to think that structures with a maximalist style always had something wrong with the actual structure, he always said that they try to hide something behind all the glamour. It was humiliating just looking at him, the priest and betrothed being exchanged glances as Veritas knocked on the girthy, stained glass. It was art of Jesus Christ with two divine servants at his feet, exquisitely crafted. It was just his way to see how thick and secure it was. The whole church must've taken at least 10 years straight to skillfully complete the entire establishment.
You dove your hands in your pockets. The frost biting at your reddening fingertips, fluffy snow covered the car by now, the weather was not suitable for a warm-welcoming wedding, but it was what Veritas wanted, so that is what he got. To be honest, you didn't really do anything for the planning, Ratio just told you to not worry about preparation and to relax, nothing really interesting these days. you can see the glistering, ivory slush on the exterior of the venue. Veritas' co=workers would think that this would be an immensely magnificent place, being tempted to touch everything.
"Veritas, I think the church is fine"
You sigh out, this was getting too awkward for you.
"Hold on, dear"
The woman in purple robes speaks up, talking to you.
"How much did you spend on this alone?"
"You should ask him, he's been the one doing all the planning"
"How come? You didn't want to be involved?"
"Eh,, it's not that, he just didn't want me to help him I guess"
"Did he not trust you?"
"N...no, it's not that, we just fought a lot about it"
"Is it because of the decorations? Did you not want a wedding?"
You feel throw up come up
"No, no, I do want to get married.."
"Are you sure? If I didn't know any better, I would've assumed that you didn't want to get married"
The porcelain soul giggled, and you gave a half-hearted one. You felt your heart sinking as well, remembering that you did indeed have to marry this man, is it too late to back out? That comment made you stare at the floor, nothing on your mind, it took you aback. You felt your muscles getting heavier with each passing second, it didn't help that every minute you spent at this idiotic place was excruciatingly painful.
You felt your nostrils flare from the rapid heating traveling to your face. The major migraine coming through as you re-play the recent scenarios through your head, flying off the handle. How irritating and bothersome,
Can he just hurry up?
Honestly. How long do I have to wait here for?
The church is completely fine!
Why is he being so dramatic!
This is getting so annoying.
JUST HURRY UP
Your fingers tapped the side of your thigh as your jaw clenches, it would've hurt if your weren't acting like a bear with a sore head. The sole of your shoes aggressively drummed against the polished, marble floors. The ache in your brain was getting worse, god, it was insufferable, just like Ratio's tedious need to check everything in place, it's like you can never win! An exasperated groan escaped your lips.
"Veritas, let's go."
"Hold on, [name]"
Seeming to not pay any mind to your tone, since he was basically measuring the elongated, wooden seats, he responded carelessly.
Oh, he's really in it now.
"Let's go."
"In a minute"
Oh my god?!
"Veritas."
"Just wait-"
you grind your teeth as your anger reaches a boiling point
"DAMN IT! RATIO"
His head whips back, pupils shrink as his eyelids widen. Herta looked at you, judgment coursing through her mind, seems like she wasn't all that surprised, but she still let out a little 'yikes'. You crossed your arms against your chest, you were gripping the sides of your arm sleeves, it felt like they were going to rip off. The echo from your shout faded into obscurity, it was the silence that followed after that seemed to be blaring in your ears. The immense space of the Lord’s house was what made your hollering almost deafening, it would be no surprise if outsiders could’ve heard you. Ratio waits for a second before finally getting up, not wanting to aggravate you even further. You see him dust off any soot that remained stuck on his pants, footsteps approach you, indicating that he’s coming closer, he begins to dubiously suggest to exit, whenever you blew a fuse, it was pretty effortless to lash out.
“Alright, then.. let’s go”
"You two can proceed without me, I'll remain here a while longer"
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You lumber to the car, Veritas following behind you. Crunchy, thin layers of snow compressed under your foot. Blusterous winds coming at you, gnawing on your nose and cheeks, your thews were getting numb from the frost. Jesus, how do people live in this weather?! While walking, you took the chance to puff on your stinging hands, the numbness leaving your skin. Oh, how you long to place your hand over a fire, pyro flames crackling from the moisture escaping. Ash would be decorated around the fireplace, it give the comforting feeling that you're back home and never have to leave. The heat would engulf you, hugging you as it protects you from the cold. Not even massaging your upper arms would fully reheat you back, Mother Nature was not gentle this season, attacking outsiders vigorously.
Creased brows adorned Veritas' face, a dip was shown between his eyebrows. His crossed arms and the needless stomping of his feet made it apparent that he was getting exacerbated by the previous predicament. The Greek man's upper half was lunging towards the driver's seat. Ratio used to hold the door for you, it was his way of being polite, you would be lying if you didn't have a soft spot for that tiny habit of his, it'd touch your heart. Although, now, he didn't do it,
The audacity..!
Does he know how he already treats me?
And he's the angry one?
Stop throwing a tantrum Ratio.
Ignoring how you behaved wouldn't make you feel better, but you were just so pent up from Veritas' emotional neglect and the constant worrying about that colleague, especially since he's so flirtatious with him.
Agh! It was so distressing just seeing them together,
I just want to wipe that smug look off his face,
worse part is, Ratio invited him to the wedding,
I told him that he makes me uneasy,
I know he's trying to steal Ratio,
why can't he just listen to me?!
You were getting furious again, the way you slammed the car could've made it obvious enough. You two were truly a match made in heaven to be worked up at the same time. Huffing and puffing in your seats while you two look straight ahead, the scorching temperature in your coat along with the feverishness from your wrathful attitude made it unbearable to stay still, it felt like your skin was being pricked with blazing needles. The tension between you two was so thick that you could cut it with a knife, only god knows how this is going to go down.
" What. Was. That."
You mentally sigh,
"How do you mean?"
"The minor altercation you had esteemed with me at the church—might there be a particular rationale for your current discontent, manifesting in such unseemly volumes directed at me?"
"I.. just wanted to go home"
"Are you so pessimistic as to raise your voice in my presence? I think not."
"Ugh.. I don't want to have this conversation with you.."
"You were quite insistent in having vociferously summoned my attention."
"That's because I didn't feel well and wanted to go home!"
"Might you kindly elucidate the matter that troubles you, or shall you indulge in yet another of your temper tantrums?"
"Why are you this agitated about the fact that I asked if we could go?!"
"Screech not asked."
You shriek in rage, you shuffled in your seat as fire boils up to your cheeks. Sweat beads down your forehead from how overwhelmed you were.
"This epitomizes my point, you have retreated like an infant."
"You keep badgering me expecting an answer but sometimes I just don't want to respond because you have this urge to insult me for how I feel!"
"Such a predicament could have been averted had you communicated with me."
"Ratio! You barely have the time to actually listen, it's like I have to beg you to do it! Even when you do, you NEVER listen You're focused on work and not the wedding, which I originally wanted to help with by the way! You're focused on that slutty, blonde co-worker of yours more than your own future spouse, huh?!"
"Aventurine?! Shall we PERSIST in this discourse? I have conveyed to you that there is no intimate relationship between us. What further assurances do you seek? Am I unable to indulge your desires ?!"
"Why are you acting like it's an issue to comfort me?!"
"It's like I constantly have to console you, it never ends with you!"
"Are you kidding me?! Do you know how Aventurine looks at you, oh my Aeons, Veritas! It's like he's eye-fucking you right in front of me!"
"No he doesn't, this is what you do, you blow everything out of proportion, what is happening with you?!"
"Oh, I'm sure you don't know how I feel because you're too busy spending time with that HOMEWRECKER"
"Stop criticizing him with high-school insults , you're acting like a toddler, [Name]!"
"I can't even believe this, you won't ask why I've been changing but you'll immediately point how how I'm complaining about that blonde bimbo?! Do you even care?!"
"Of course I care, but you insulting my dearest friend won't make you feel better"
dearest friend?!
"Really?! Dearest friend?! HAH! Don't make me laugh!"
"Do you want me to brag about you all the time?! Is that what this is?!"
"You sure as hell don't have a problem talking about Aventurine!"
"DEFENDING him is not the same as complimenting"
"All this time we've been arguing, never ONCE have you mentioned how alone I feel, you've just been focused on that whore!"
"Because I don't know what you want me to say, what more can I do, I can't fix your insecurities for you!"
"I'm not asking you to, I just want you to be there for me!"
" There's always something with you, sometimes it's just draining being with you. I just wish for once you could stop dragging everyone down with you, you've become ill, I can't even recognize you! You just spew ignorance just from this conversation!"
...
Your breath hitches, this sense of betrayal hunches over you. Your voice gets caught in your throat, heart pounding as you could hear it thunderously breaking out of your chest. It's like your consciousness was detached from your whole body, you could feel the water works were coming to you. No control over what your brain decides to do, and you feel pain in your hit you square in the gut, no, he was hitting you in the gut. The utter cruelness you had to reach in order to tell your fiance off because they were discussing their feelings was astounding. Oh, how you wish that you could go back to the espresso scented mornings, and shared baths. Why did everything have to turn out this way,
Why did I have to make it this way
Voice shrill as you accidentally let out a tiny cry. You turn your head to view the car window. The sight was not pleasant, it's an eyesore looking at broken down, rusty cars being trapped in snow. Wore down tires stuck to the road from the frost. and beaten-in dents really accentuated how crappy the car is. The ugliest thing by far were the moldy plazas, the signs were growing mysterious brown stains, it looks like it hasn't cleaned in years.
You could feel Veritas' eyes burning in the back o your skull, the worst feeling is knowing that someone's blue in the face by how your coming off, and the most wretched thing about it is that you know that it's most likely entirely your fault.
Hot teardrops run down your cheeks, trying to simultaneously brush them away with your sleeve. It's not like Ratio would reassure you, whenever you end up crying after an argument, he doesn't. He always said how you brought it upon yourself, that you shouldn't have tried to verbally brawl with him if you were going to end up wailing.
I wish I could call mom right now..
"Are you going to call your mother like you always do?"
He deeply exhales at your foolishness,
You look back at him, a glare goes right for him, your eyes were puffy from how your water blobs overpower your eyes' the drainage system. The hell is wrong with this man?
"None of your business."
"That's what you always do anyways I don't even need to ask."
"To hell with you, it must be nice thinking you've won this dispute, everything is just a competition to you, even your own fiance's feelings."
You breathe out a mini "asshole", the ferocity of your anger was shown from how brutally you shut the car door.
..
This was all a mistake
You weren't supposed to marry him yet
but you can't back out now
what a nasty man...
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No no no no no no no no no no no nononononononononono...
It's gone
It's completely gone
I lost it
nonononononononononononononononoNONONONONONO
You were pacing around the room, there was this beautiful golden necklace that disappeared, a thick Singaporean necklace which was plated in diamonds. The center of it all was a beautiful... jade or aventurine gem, You prayed to god that it wasn't an aventurine gem. Despite that, it fit with the jewelry nicely, reflective and a stunning little thing. It was a grim couple of weeks, After that squabble with Veritas, you broke down, it was the late night fretting that really got to you. Fly-aways in your hair became worse, and it was getting really tiring to untangle it every time, it feels like you have to battle with it just to keep it mildly tame.
You placed both your hands on your heartbeat, you couldn't believe this, how did you lose such a treasure in such a short amount of seconds. You've checked EVERYWHERE, under the couch placed in the dressing room, the vanity, the bathroom, behind the potted plants, but nothing. Oh, Aeons, this is the worse, you idiot! how did you lose it this quickly!
Damn it, Ratio is not going to let you hear the end of it
Desperately looking for a sign, something to give you a hint to where it is.
Aeons, please help me..
You've been ready for quite a while, but it was just that one piece that was missing..
AND IT WAS THAT STUPID NECKLACE!
You stumble back, your back calf bumping into the stool seat. You're fingers ravels across your whole face. Is it just you, or is the air getting harder to respire in. Heat flashes overtake you as your blood runs cold. You can hear yourself hyperventilating, wheezes escaping your mouth as you attempt to tranquil yourself. It was hard to exhale in general, each time you felt a puff wander up your esophagus, a sharp, sore pain pricks your nerves. Sweat enclose on your whole body from head to toe, your skin feels extremely sticky, smelling your incredibly slicked hair just from the moisture.
Exceedingly shaky hands try to reach for your ice cold water, contrasting with your heating hands. When the frigid glass met your skin, it startled you, causing you to immediately drop your cup on instinct. Fresh water spilling everywhere, covering decoration pieces and the spotless, clear mirror. You internally curse yourself out before you scream it out,
"SHIT!"
This dramatic gasp was hear, it was you. You try to wipe the water on your expensive outfit, but decided against it. Your enchanting outfit was hand-crafted by Tingyun herself, and she clearly stated that your ivory, platinum attire should not get wet as it would ruin the material. Not really remembering anything after that, all that your brain could muster up was the fox lady making operatic gestures on how absolutely "dangerous" it is to drench the clothing with any fluid.
You can not take that possible risk and ruin the matrimony any longer. This day was just splendid, you have nowhere to wipe your soaked hands, you lost your (almost) husband's vital necklace, and now you're sniffling from the fact that you're about to cry. This day was a mess- no.. maybe it was a sign being wedded was not the ideal situation for your destiny.
I just can't take this anymore,
my makeup is going to get ruined
Aventurine is here
I can't find that damn adornment
I spilt water
I'm just a complete mess..
I.. can't do this anymore..
The trickles of a familiar saline liquid fall down your lashes. Restrained sobs flee from your grasp as you try to stay quiet. Your chest rapidly went up and down, hoping to still your breath, but it didn't work-
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
AAAAHHHHHHH WHAT THE FUCK!
You shout
"AH!-"
"[Name]? It's Topaz!"
"Uhm- and Aventurine.."
You grimaced just by the mention of his name,
"Ack! Whatever, are you okay, sweetie?"
"Yeah, we heard you crying"
As if you'd fucking care!
"em.. uh.. yeah.. I'm.. okay.."
It got muted, everything was serene. It gives you a chance to catch your breath and tranquilize your state of mind. You view your trembling hands that wouldn't settle themselves. Perturbed eyes that got more damaged from the high concentration of salt.
"[Name]."
"Yeah..?"
"Please don't lie to me"
...
"Sorry... You guys can come in"
You swiftly swab away your tears, nose sniffling. Your throat felt sticky with the mucus covering it. This uncontrollable throbbing pain was getting more apparent, it was vague but you could still undoubtedly feel it. The blaring illumination from the vanity mirror was just making it worse. It's like a hangover, maddening and agonizing, you have to wait all day until the bothersome migraine flees away.
The door creaks open, this sudden pain shoots through your ears and brain from the mosquito-like noise. Topaz was wearing this beautiful silk dress, flashy but sophisticated, gleaming gold arches on her dress are placed on her rib area. this exquisitely detailed pendant was connected to a shiny, band on her neck. It was all decorated in a French-style.
Topaz had this uneased expression on her face, she rushed her way towards you. The woman didn't have time to pull up a chair, her friend was in distress, and as a bridesmaid, she was determined to drop everything to aid you. Her manicured hand rests on your cheek, it's soft, and strangely comforting.
Aventurine, on the other hand, was standing near the doorway. He had this floral embroidered waistcoat, it was a dusty pink, damn he looked good. Under the vest, a puffy, Ouji dress shirt fit nicely with the rest of the outfit. It was a pristine, pale color, everything about his attire just screamed polished. Reflective, blonde locks were ornamented with blooming hairpieces.
"What happened? Are you nervous about the wedding? Oh, I'm sure Dr. Ratio will think your absolutely gorgeous-"
"-No.. no.. no, it's just that.. I lost this stupid necklace that Veritas gave me. I can't find it anywhere, and I'm scared that he'll get mad at me.."
Topaz and Aventurine exchanged troubled glances.
"Ah... well.. uhm, I'm sure he won't get mad!"
Easy for you to say!
"He'll only get mad if you don't tell him early on"
Oh, I'm sure you'd know, Aventurine.
"Right! We should tell him now!"
..What
"W.. What?! No!"
"Don't worry it'll be fine! If you tell him right now then you won't have to worry after! I'll be back!"
"Wait! Topaz!"
You reach out to pull her back, but her wrist disappears before you can even touch it. Topaz picks a bit of her dress up so her heels wouldn't trap it, it was a floor-length, dark, barbie pink, it was also provided by Tingyun, for free at that.
There was this mortified look on your face, your eyelids were expansive. The world was crumbling right before you, ready to get faced with Veritas' disastrous fury. Lava would be swarming over you if he found out, Aeons, he'd be so inflamed with you.
My life is so over.
Your heart was going up your esophagus, you can feel it pulsing with all it's power. Your organs can feel the impending doom coming up, your stomach was bubbling, your lungs were rapidly gasping for air, your brain was panicking, all these scenarios were running through your head.
Your head was down, you can't even look at him, you'd just turn into a pitiful goop on the floor, stuck to it for eternity. Aventurine was still in the room, unsure of what to do. He had the idea that you did despise the very existence of him, so he wasn't sure if he should even dab your skin with his velvet glove.
You hear heels clacking
she's coming back, and with Ratio, you presume
Oh no
Are you going to vomit or burp
Either way something's coming up
"Topaz, what was so urgent that you had to rush me over to my future spouse's dressing room"
?
huh.. ?
"It's just something important!"
You can hear a snort come up, it seemed to be Aventurine.
What's so funny, Aventurine.
"What's so funny, Aventurine?"
"Just the new 'sunglasses' you have, they really fit you, Doctor~"
He purrs at Dr. Ratio, what the hell is wrong with him?!
He's basically making ou- wait what? Sunglasses?
You pick your head up
what the?!
There it was, Topaz, on her tippy toes, her hands barely reaching his eyebrows. Her whole body was strained just to cover his eyes. It seemed like Ratio had to bend his knees a bit just so she had an easier time.
"Topaz, please uncover my eyes"
"No can do! You can't see them before the wedding, it's bad luck!"
I think this whole ceremony is an indication of bad luck
You hear Veritas sigh
"What's the problem that was so critical for me to hear"
Topaz gestures for you to say it, her eyes beaming bright, and a supportive smile dousing her lips.
uhm..
"Uh.. uhm.."
"Hm?"
"Uhm.."
...
"I might've lost the necklace you gave me..."
"Dear, I can't hear you if you speak so quietly"
"I.. lost the necklace.."
"What?"
"I lost the.. necklace you gave me..:
"."
...
"Excuse me?"
Ouhhh....
"I.. uhm.."
"What is wrong with you?! Do you just lose everything that I give you?!"
Your head immediately perks up to look at him.
"It was just a-"
"[Name], I give you a necklace ESPECIALLY for YOU to wear. How. Do. You. Lose. It."
"I did have it, you don't have to yell at me!"
"CLEARLY, not since you just somehow lost it, how insolent do you have to be"
"ok, Doctor-"
"Not now, Aventurine."
"You make enough money to buy a second one, It's not like I lost it on purpose!"
"It's not that, it's the fact that you're so FORGETFUL that you just misplace ANYTHING I give you. You have to be more responsible I can't KEEP HOLDING YOUR HAND"
"STOP YELLING AT ME"
The Doctor rips Topaz's hands of his face
"Ratio!-"
"It seems that you didn't lose your phone, what? Are you gonna call your mom again?!"
"Why do you keep bringing her up?!"
"Because, you ALWAYS RUN from your problems"
"I DON'T RUN, YOU'RE JUST NEVER THERE"
"THIS AGAIN, HONESTLY, STOP ACTING LIKE A CHILD"
...
"..."
".. I'm going back, get ready."
"..."
You can hear his formal, polish, black leather shoes tromp on the floor, and even louder was the thunderclap following the door slam. You flinched, now hyper-aware of everything, it's like your lungs were feebly inhaling, hands cupped up as they were placed upon your chest. Little sharp coughs release the ache in your throat walls, a corrosive feeling in your eyes weren't as tormenting as the images of Ratio's expressively wrathful face.
Low sobs were getting muffled from the seclusion of your hands. Your back was hunched, legs pressed together tightly, like sardines. It's like someone punched the air right out of you, making it difficult to breathe through your blubbering, messy breakdown.
"Oh, geez, uhm- here, [Name]"
You could hear Topaz's fancy heels making their way towards you. She lifts your head up and leisurely wipes your tears away with a soft, cotton tissue.
"Hey, hey, hey, it's going to be okay. He's just stressed because it's his big day. Before you know it, everything will end up perfect, this is just a little hiccup, you'll be okay"
"Oh, shoot.. make sure their make-up doesn't get ruined.."
Aventurine makes his way over to you, he dabs your cheeks with his finger to fix your blush.
"You look so beautiful, [Name]"
"Yeah, Ratio will realize how pretty you are"
"Hey, do you think the church would know if a cherub figure was missing?"
"Depends on how big it is"
"It's pretty tiny, it so pretty though, I just want to snatch it up!"
muffled
..
Aeons, they're so annoying
Could you just stop talking
Stop touching my face.
Stop touching my hair.
Stop it,
Stop it, stop it,
StopstopstopstopstopstopstopstOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOP IT STOP IT I DON'T LIKE THIS
"CAN YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE?!"
The duo's hands abruptly pause. trembling hands reach your face, feeling your wet cheeks, Your whole body was shuddering from the aggravation coursing through your body. You can feel your entire head tottering uncontrollably, hot flashes coming in and out.
"Wh-"
"I just can't,,,- do this anymore!"
You shove their hands away as you rose up from your seat, your leg bulldozing the seat out of the way, almost tripping on the way to the bathroom.
"Wait! Are-"
SLAM
...
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Wedding bells ring, piercing through your ears. This church was aged, the bells were still intact, the workers were taking special care of this long-lived building. It was a truly magnificent venue, as elegant as Dr. Ratio, or, at least his tastes. The perfume of the bouquet was infiltrating your nostrils,
EVERYONE was invited, even idrila, which was who Argenti was looking for, anyone could see that rose-headed knight searching around. His armor was getting noisy, irritating the guests. Topaz was a bridesmaid, and Screwllum was the best man, right by the groom's side. Clara was the most excited, other than Ratio, she was a flower girl. Pink, sparkly, blossoming mini-heels, they weren't the cheap princess ones that toddlers usually get for their birthday party, but instead made of the most intricate crystals. Her dress was completely pink with a blinging gemstone tiara to match her curly up-do.
It was a full house, something that made you nervous. You didn't feel your best, or looked your best, this contagious feeling of suspense was pulling you back. Oh no, this isn't what you wanted, this isn't what you should have.
You found the damned necklace, you should be thrilled that you discovered it. You should be cheerful that you're going to finally marry this man.
You should be..
But you're not.
You were devoid of any happiness, the sight of his face makes you sick. Even worse, the sight of him with that enchantress makes you get more ill. Veritas isn't the right one, you should've said something a long time ago.
Your legs unconsciously move back,
You have to walk the aisle
Oh Aeons, the music's starting
You have to stay
No
You have to move, this isn't how you'll live you're life
You don't deserve this anymore
Move
MOVE
All of a sudden, The carnations and roses got launched on the floor, the petals falling off. Such exquisiteness shouldn't merit such treatment, but neither should you. Your back slouched, like someone gagging over a sink, knees buckled. Sweat beading in your forehead, hands vigorously gripping that stupid necklace.
Diamonds falling everywhere, little thuds appearing on the red carpet.
..
Veritas' huffed out some frustration, fixing his collar. Today was supposed to be perfect, but he ruined it by squalling at his fiance. How stupid could he honestly be, it was really just a necklace, not even a valuable heirloom. He had to confess, he was a little tense from the amount of people present. Ratio was never the uneasy one, it was usually you, he just spewed pride, whether it was his intelligence or his body. Even worse, you were most likely disturbed from how he treated you.
He mentally facepalms himself from how idiotic he was being. The Grecian has noticed your deteriorating psychological state, he shouldn't have triggered it any longer.
The man noticed everyone rubbing their arms, he should've turned on the heater. It was terribly frigid, icicles could form inside the church if they wanted to. Normally, Veritas wouldn't even notice how chilly it was, always setting the thermostat 60 or below. You used to reprimand him, complaining about that he lives with another person and how he should stop changing it to a frosty temperature.
However, he was amazingly stubborn, so he continued doing it. In the winter, it was a nuisance to deal with. It was so fatiguing tackling the heavy snow and dense ice off your tires so your car could move, and it was worse coming home to a house that was the same degree as Antarctica.
Silly bickers would arise from it, but no matter how many disputes you two had, it seemed that the scholar would rather that than even consider raising the thermostat. It's not like it was that alone
Every single time, his hardheadedness got the best of him, and he'd only be left with nobody but himself
Dr. Ratio saw how queasy Topaz and Aventurine were. First of all, the blonde man was rubbing his neck and keep messing with his watch, Topaz eyes darted everywhere, she tapped her foot on the ground rapidly.
Huh, it seems like the ceremony was about to begin
Ratio fixed himself up as much as he could.
,,,
It seemed like you were a little late.
.
..
...
Uh..
Everyone immediately looked at the man.
The worst was true to come.
You weren't there.
He looks at Topaz,
She looks back, a petrified look appears on her face,
He looks at Aventurine,
This surprised look appears on his face.
Oh no,
Ratio finally realized
..
You were gone
and so was your mother.
,,
A few gasps were heard, everyone knew what happened
Veritas rushes behind the marble doors, it was extreme in weight, but no match for Ratio
..
All he saw, was a broken necklace and a destroyed bouquet on the floor.
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astonmartinii · 1 year ago
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into the arms of another part four | max verstappen social media au
pairing: max verstappen x reader
wedding bells are ringing, but so are charles' ears because no one will stop talking about whether he'll make an appearance on the big day
part one | part two | part three | masterlist | tips
yourusername
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yourusername: a night to remember where you don't remember much of it
view all comments
user1: how do i become part of this friendship group? real answers only.
maxverstappen1: how do i get to marry HER?
danielricciardo: i ask myself that everyday
maxverstappen1: that's not very girls support girls of you daniel
yourusername: yeah daniel, not being a girl's girl in the summer of barbie, i thought more of you...
danielricciardo: lets not get ahead of ourselves here
user2: y/n and max tag teaming daniel is my favourite thing from this relationship
danielricciardo: tag team? don't give me any ideas
yourusername: DANIEL?
maxverstappen1: DANIEL?
danielricciardo: do NOT pretend that y'all have not thought about it
maxverstappen1: we are getting married in a week do not proposition us for a threesome in a public instagram comment section
user3: max pretending like he's never thought about it
user4: how did we get to this point
yourbff1: threesome talk aside, we're so hot
maxverstappen1: hard agree
yourusername: i love you
yourbff1: i love you too
yourusername: and i love you too
yourbff1: you meant max didn't you ...
yourusername: maybe...
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maxverstappen1
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tagged: danielricciardo
maxverstappen1: this is a public service announcement do NOT let daniel ricciardo plan your stag party because you will not remember a single thing
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user7: the way like 80% of the grid were at this except charles ...
user8: wow colour me shocked he didn't invite the one guy who keeps disrespecting his fiancee to the stag party
danielricciardo: ummmmm this is false? you had a great time.
maxverstappen1: maybe i did all i know is that the bathroom on that plane did not enjoy it i don't think i can touch vodka ever again
danielricciardo: that was all you big boy, you don't know your limit
yourusername: glad to see you didn't kill him before our wedding
danielricciardo: i am really not liking the lack of faith in me
yourusername: he's literally passed out in the second picture daniel
danielricciardo: he's just taking a snooze RIGHT @maxverstappen1
maxverstappen1: yeah ... i just needed my beauty sleep
yourusername: erm you don't need any beauty sleep pretty boy
maxverstappen1: oh, why thank you 😊
user9: she's literally marrying you babe and ur STILL BLUSHING WHEN SHE CALLS YOU PRETTY
user10: this is really not a good sign for charles attending the wedding
user11: yall ever get tired of bringing this shit up HE FUCKED UP this is merely the consequences of his own actions.
user12: and according to mr. leclerc him and max aren't friends so why would he be invited?
danielricciardo
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danielricciardo: max is currently passed out on my shoulder after talking for an hour straight about how much he loves y/n so here's my favourite pictures of them before they're officially married.
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user13: why am i actually dead ass crying over this?
user14: no cause the circumstances have been an actual shit show so i'm glad they've managed to get through it and are finally gonna tie the knot !!
user15: i've been in the literal trenches defending y/n and this relationship i deserve an invite to this wedding
yourusername: @maxverstappen1 omg we're so hot
maxverstappen1: i think you're the hot one babe
yourusername: you're literally the hottest man in the world STOP TALKING DOWN ON YOURSELF
maxverstappen1: i know, i know. i'm amazing, sexy and beautiful.
yourusername: TOO RIGHT
user16: is this ^^ positive affirmations
yourusername: yes, he's way too amazing to not believe that himself
user17: so like do they maybe want to adopt me?
landonorris: so as the sexiest groomsmen, can i have the scoop on whether there'll be any sexy bridesmaid
maxverstappen1: who said you're the sexiest?
landonorris: well since charles is out of the running there's a clear winner here - ME
danielricciardo: assuming the best man is not in this conversation cause my face card clears yours
user18: WAIT WHAT
user19: so it's confirmed, he's missing his best friend's wedding over him being petty, all hope in men is gone
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tagged: maxverstappen1
yourusername: no words. love of my life. best day ever. i love you forever maxy
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user25: OMFG IT LOOKS SO BEAUTIFUL
fernandoalo_oficial: a really beautiful ceremony for my favourites, enjoy your honeymoon and make some time for the old man
yourusername: thank you for coming fernando and thank you for the literal snowmobile idk what we'll do with it but thank you
user26: what kind of a wedding gift is a SNOWMOBILE?
maxverstappen1: a sick one? thanks nando
danielricciardo: what a wonderful day, you guys are so perfect together, thank you for letting me be a part of your day
maxverstappen1: HE CRIED AHAHAHHAHAAHA HE LOVES US SO MUCH HE CRIED
danielricciardo: ummm obviously i watched you pine over her for as long as i've known you. you guys deserve this happiness after everything
yourusername: daniel we love you and your speech was so amazing i nearly cried all of my makeup off
user27: the way the old charles would've given such a banging speech i am in mourning
user28: girl it's their literal wedding post leave the comments about charles for once
sebastianvettel: lovely ceremony you too, much love to your future - seb, hanna and the kids xx
yourusername: thank you for coming seb !! love you guys, let us know if you want us to babysit
maxverstappen1: thank you for your support through all of this seb, you guys are the best
user29: so charles really got no one in his corner lol
maxverstappen1
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maxverstappen1: in sickness and in health, the biggest honour of my life is being your husband
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user30: this is my barbie this does not get any better for me
christianhorner: a wonderful ceremony for the loveliest couple, very grateful to be included in your special day.
masverstappen1: thank you for being there for me, and for not standing on y/n's dress with your two left feet
user31: yall gonna give any context?
user32: i think he's referring to the fact that christian filled the role jos would have at the wedding and during the parents dance, christian would've had a dance with y/n !!
user31: i think my heart just melted wedding of the century
user33: seeing all the wedding content without charles is so weird the whole time we've known y/n her and charles were attached at the hip :/
user34: i beg yall leave it out for one day, he could've been there HE HAD THE INVITATION but he didn't so leave it out
redbullracing: officially THE f1 couple 🫶
landonorris: congratulations and all that jazz but WHAT THE FUCK WAS IN THAT PUNCH
yourusername: sorry lando i gave them the uni recipe
landonorris: oscar was sick on my shoes MY BEAUTIFUL SHOES
maxverstappen1: just send us the bill i can hear you bitching from our room
oscarpiastri: for the record THEY sat me next to kimi and seb and i tried to aim away from your shoes but the world was spinning
user35: okay i need to know the seating plan for this wedding ASAP
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excerpt of the podcast interview of y/n y/ln-verstappen.
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tagged: maxverstappen1
yourusername: my honeymoooooooooooooon with my super sexy and lovely HUSBAND
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user36: okay i've had enough of the cute posts WHERE IS MY HUSBAND?
user37: i crack myself up thinking about them setting up a lil tripod to take these
yourusername: and?
maxverstappen1: we're serving cunt x
user38: did yall see y/n's podcast interview?
user39: yes i'm glad she's got her closure now and can fully move on with her life
alexalbon: you guys are so sickeningly sweet i love you morons
yourusername: why thank you alex
lilymunhe: he said he deserves compensation for his half a season of listening to max pine
maxverstappen1: people think i'm embarrassed of that when LOOK AT MY WIFE OBVIOUSLY I WOULD PINE
maxverstappen1: and bro your apology was the open bar at the wedding
alexalbon: you guys are underestimating just how much this guy spoke about y/n
yourusername: fine we'll post in our albon shoes
albon_pets: this is why we love you y/n
user39: no charles comment... you hear that? peace.
note: i hope yall enjoyed this probably final part of into the arms of another. i hope it wasn’t disappointing lol i love this pairing with all my heart. (also wrote this at 4am on my couch after a MASSIVE FUCK OFF house spider came in my room (my dad said he killed it when i woke him up at 2am) but i was too scared to stay) xx
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dyns33 · 8 months ago
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Family honor
So Alfie x Y/N Shelby wife will be a little series now
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There were several differences between a Gypsy wedding and a Jewish wedding.
The most obvious being that gypsy marriage was not recognized by anyone except gypsies.
But if it wasn't celebrated, you could walk past a priest, a rabbi, an imam or the fucking King himself, to live for years with the same person, under the same roof, with children, that would not have the slightest importance for the gypsies.
Alfie Solomons muttered several times that none of this was kosher, but he respected all the rites and traditions of Y/N's family. Even drinking alcohol, he who hated having a foggy mind.
"Already quite foggy the rest of the time, love. But if your savages of brothers insist…"
“The savages insist.” John said, giving him a whole bottle of whiskey.
“I can’t believe this asshole is going to become one of us.”
"Oh, Arthur, I'm touched that you accept me so quickly into your heart."
It took several people besides Tommy and Y/N to stop them from killing each other, when they were completely drunk.
Then they insisted on walking together in the horse field, the older Shelby brother ending up giving his blessing before falling asleep under a tree, making it clear that he would slit Alfie's throat if he did not treat his beloved little sister correctly.
The wandering jew left him to return with the others, who were dancing and singing. A perfect wedding, completely normal.
If he was offended when Y/N told him that the Jewish marriage was practically the same, he didn't show it, just made a strange sound with his nose.
There may have been less alcohol, and it was legally recognized, but the rest was a gathering of a lot of loud people, not speaking English, jumping around and congratulating them on their union.
Y/N, however, quickly noticed the biggest difference between gypsy marriage and Jewish marriage.
Although they had been a little surprised and worried by her choice of husband, her family had decided to give a chance to Alfie Solomons, whom they judged solely because of his actions. The rest didn't matter in the slightest.
With the Camden community, it wasn’t so simple.
“Your lovely wife is going to convert ?” an old woman asked, although it sounded more like an order than a question.
"Ah, frau Aldermann. It is true that I am such a pious man myself, it is a very important subject that my wife and I have talked about a lot. Isn't that right, treacle ?"
“Good, good.” sighed a man, patting his shoulder, not seeming to understand Alfie's sarcasm. "This is very important, especially for such an admired member. Perhaps your mother was of Jewish parentage ?"
She could have replied that she had not really known her mother, and therefore even less her family, but her husband saved her from this discussion, which he considered ridiculous, by inviting her to dance.
A true act of love, for him who hated dancing, in addition to suffering terribly because of his back.
It didn't take long for her entire family tree to be dissected in every way. The old harpies of Camden were like all the harpies of London.
The fact that she couldn't answer their question was almost a good thing. This mystery made it possible to say that if we could not verify that she was Jewish through her mother, we could not verify that she was not either. And everything always went through the mother.
The deplorable past of her father and the Shelby family could then have been forgotten.
The problem was mainly that her mother was not Mr. Arthur Shelby Sr. wife, which made Y/N a bastard. A gypsy bastard at that.
Even when she didn't understand the language, she guessed that people were talking about her. These looks and these laughter, she knew them well. Her brothers had suffered them when they were younger, before they used their fists to silence the ignorant and conquer Birmingham.
But she wasn't in Birmingham. Her brothers were not there, and it was her husband's kingdom.
Alfie wasn't the last to comment on gypsies.
"You know, I expected to have to sleep in a caravan for our honeymoon. It would have been terrible for my back, I don't know if Thomas took pity on us or if his petty posh side is to be thanked."
“They had a tent for us, but Finn threw up in it.”
"Fuck off, love. You're kidding me !"
“Then we would have danced naked around a fire asking the moon to give us happiness, health and above all a lot of fucking money.”
"… Yeah, you're totally kidding me, you little rascal." Alfie said, mock irritated, pulling her in for a kiss.
He didn't seem to notice that every little word spoken against her family and their traditions was beginning to weigh on her.
At least it was never completely mean when it was him. Almost innocent, full of prejudice and stupidity, but not crossing certain limits.
The rest of the community was not so kind. Many had not appreciated that the King of Camden, such a prized party, war hero, respected gangster, charming man, ended up with a girl like her. It must have been business, blackmail, or black magic.
There was no other possible explanation.
For several months, she decided to be the reasonable adult, remaining calm and polite, taking the blows as best she could. Tommy had taught her how to do it.
He had also taught her the pride of gypsies. Honor.
So there came a day when she was walking through the bakery, and some of the employees made a little joke about stealing and fortune telling, laughing like the idiots they were.
Normally, she would have ignored him. But Y/N was exhausted, and Polly's voice repeated in her head that no Shelby would ever allow themselves to be treated like this, so before they had time to react, she grabbed the hair of one of them, placing a knife to his throat.
"Tell me another joke about gypsies. Then I'll tell you a joke about Jews. Then I'll kill you."
The boy squealed, calling to his colleagues for help with his big, frightening eyes, but no one dared to move. Because they knew she would go faster. And even if she wasn't moving fast enough, she was Tommy Shelby's sister and Alfie Solomons' wife. Literally untouchable.
"Come on." she whispered in his ear. "Make me laugh. No ? No more jokes ? You're going to play the victim. It's funny, people who complain about being mistreated, then do exactly the same thing to others while thinking they're superior. You're all the same."
She didn't comment on the puddle under his legs, nor the little cry of panic when she released him.
Everyone stood still, watching her leave, and when she met Ollie's gaze, she knew she had just made a mistake. She only proved that she was indeed the savage they all described, the bad person.
Alfie probably wouldn't be happy when his right hand man told him what happened.
He did indeed seem to be in a terrible mood when she found him waiting for her in the living room, sunk into the sofa, indicating that his back was hurting badly, but that he would refuse to talk about it.
"Come, love, have a sit. Come on, sit down here."
Not wanting to act like a child, she remained silent as she took a seat in the chair he indicated to her.
This was obviously not what he expected, because he didn't speak either, staring at her intensely, hands crossed, displaying a small pout.
“Do you want to tell me what happened at the bakery today ?”
“Why ask if you already know ?”
“I would like your version.”
"I threatened to slit the throat of one of your workers and disrupted production. Do you want to spank me ?"
"Tempting. Why did you want to slit his throat ?"
“Unimportant.”
"Unimportant, uh ? Unimportant, love ? Because Ollie came to tell me that some guys were talking bad about me wife."
Groaning slightly, Alfie stood up just enough to push a piece of paper and pencil in her direction onto the table between them.
"Names."
“Alfie…”
"I want the names, treacle. I've already gone around the bakery telling everyone that insulting me wife and her family was insulting me, and I don't like being insulted. Names."
“You always make fun of gypsies.”
"Wrong." he retorted, holding up a finger as if that proved his point. "I do it when your brothers are around, because Thomas can be a little prick, and it's hilarious to see Arthur react like a mad dog. But I have nothing against gypsies. Lovely people. The proof, look at you. And look at me. The two most wonderful creatures our communities could spawn, right ?"
Despite all her strength, Y/N couldn't help but smile, which seemed to please her husband. He then placed his victorious finger on the paper, insisting on names.
If she had shown mercy by not cutting, this would not be the case with the wandering jew, king of Camden Town.
No one insulted his wife. No one looked at his wife badly, no one criticized her, no one tried to take away from her, no one thought of her with bad thoughts.
“Not even you ?” Y/N asked with a mischievous smile.
"Not at all. Now you brought up spanking. You brought it up first, love, not me."
“My brothers would be furious to hear that you beat me.”
"Don't tempt me, I can spread false rumors all the way to Birmingham just for the thrill of them all running here, and finding us…"
“You’re the one who deserves a spanking.”
"Ungrateful wife. Threatening me, under my own roof, when my back is killing me and I have just condemned half the city for the love of her."
The Shelbys never knew about their sister's difficult first months in Camden. Tommy noticed that he seemed to be treated with a little more respect when he walked the streets, but neither Y/N nor Alfie talked about what had happened before this outpouring of acceptance from the community.
On the other hand, Arthur noticed marks on his little sister's neck, and he tried to strangle Alfie, even after realizing that it wasn't what he thought, because it wasn't really better for him.
And Solomons reminding him that he was his brother-in-law didn't help at all.
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alchemistc · 5 months ago
Text
won't make my mama proud
read on ao3
Buck's just gonna say it. He's not gonna be cagey about it. He's not gonna make it weird. Everyone important doesn't need an announcement, they'll - they'll see him, and they'll understand, and Buck will get to enjoy himself.
His parents are the wildcard.
"E- Buck," his mom starts, brow furrowed as she looks at the seating chart. She's getting better at catching herself, and it's small fries but it's not nothing. "Why did George get moved to table seven?"
He'd been a little giddy, sitting at Maddie's kitchen table with the seating chart out, the tips of his ears bright red and the smile refusing to leave his face, basking in the little hip-shake arm-wave dance Maddie'd done when he asked if she could fit a plus one in.
Buck honestly couldn't remember who they'd moved to make it work, but it'd made the most sense - Tommy knew Bobby and Athena, he knew Karen and Eddie and Marisol, he wouldn't have to sit with a table of strangers who didn't even know a "George" anyway.
His mom's eyes flit to the extended family table, where Tommy has been tucked in between Eddie and Denny. He'd made the place card himself, intent to match the script from the printers, tongue sticking out as he swooped the 'Y' out in gold Sharpie on a piece of leftover cardstock cut to match.
"Uh - I'm bringing a date, after all," Buck says, and he watches his mom slide through names, a mental list of people she vaguely knows of. The Marisol thing had been a point of contention - extended family meant family to Margaret and Phillip Buckley, and they'd already made an exception to let Chim include Eddie and his son at that particular table. They'd acted like the relationship to the bride and the groom was going to be hovering over the top of each table. So. She knows the name Marisol. She knows Athena and Bobby. Knows Karen.
The list of potential dates is growing smaller by the minute and clearly it's not computing.
He's just gonna rip the bandaid off. "His name is Tommy. My date."
Once upon a time, he'd have taken an opportunity like this to make sure he was the center of fucking attention for as long as he possibly could be. Maybe drive home the point that his parents didn't know him as well as they claimed they did. Definitely press their buttons, see if he could invite a reaction out of them.
Now he waves off his mother's confused silence. "I already ran it by Maddie and Chim, they know him." Sort of. It's too complicated to explain to his parents, right now. Maybe if the dancing goes well, at the reception. Maybe once he's snuck about fifty more kisses in.
"Buck, you can't bring a friend as a plus one to your sister's wedding."
He doesn't see why not, really, but that's - very much not the point. Oh. Oh yeah, that's a little painful. He gets why Tommy'd slammed the brakes, now, when he'd stuck his foot in it.
"Good thing he's my date, then, mom."
Even after all this time, he always feels like he's one bad interaction away from laying into his parents, but he tempers it. This isn't really about him, or them. This is about Maddie's wedding, which is two days away and doesn't need the distraction of the brides family having it out. Again.
"What do you mean?" she asks, and - her defensive voice always sounds like she's expecting a direct attack, teeth at her jugular and she's too frail to stop it. He's always hated the way she does that, because it always makes her sound like the victim of a heinous crime when half the time she's just trying to deny something she's been accused of.
Buck takes a deep breath through his nose. "Tommy. He's my date to the wedding. Once we've all eaten and toasted at the reception he'll be the one I'm getting drinks for, he'll be the one I'm introducing to Maddie's work friends, he'll be the one I'm dancing with." He'll be the one I'm going home with, Buck doesn't say, even if he really fucking wants to. He'd gotten a dick pic for the first time last night that had rocked his entire fucking world and he's very ready to explore the realities of finally understanding he's attracted to the male form in a sexual way.
She goes through what seems like all the stages of grief at once. Not unexpected, but still kinda shitty to witness. But she's - they're both better. His parents are trying. He'll give them that. She shores up a PTA mom smile.
"Oh. I didn't know you... Well I just didn't know."
"It's new," he says, because now doesn't feel like the time to tell her he's been analyzing old friendships for weeks now, that his penchant for trying to create deep bonds with men he admires has taken on a new meaning to him. He doesn't want to get into the conversation he'd had with Tommy two nights ago, Tommy laughing but understanding as Buck regaled him with the tale of how he'd followed the varsity kicker around like a lost puppy for most of his junior year and he'd only just figured out why. "Tommy used to work at the 118, though, so he's not exactly a stranger."
He doesn't really feel like giving her more than that. It's new to him, too, it's new and fragile and it's settling warm in his gut, this feeling like he finally knows the way to make a proper chili is to add some unsweetened cocoa powder. The recipe works without it but it was never quite right, until the secret ingredient got thrown in.
"You'll have to introduce us," his mom says, and Buck thinks about it - about the way Tommy will internalize the confused looks his parents try to hide, and the way Buck will want to curl tighter around him because of it, the way he'll want to shrink under the force of his parents never quite getting him and how he knows, he knows Tommy won't let him shrink.
"Yeah," he says, and his mind goes back to thinking of Tommy in a suit.
Tommy with a button undone that turns into three by the third song, Tommy fiddling with cufflinks, Tommy with suspenders, Tommy's ass in a pair of crisp tapered trousers. Buck wonders if he's an ankle sock with dress shoes guy.
His mom turns back to her trove of little gift bags, plastic crinkling as she ties another finished one off. He's - it feels a bit like he's waiting for a shoe to drop, sitting there next to her as her hands continue to pull jute twine from its roll in even six inch lengths, cutting them, twisting bags and tying them off.
Their hands meet the next time he slides a pile of filled bags over to her -- a bubble jar, three Jordan almonds, four Kisses, a quarter inch of crinkle paper on the bottom. Buck goes to move his hand back and her soft, wrinkled hand reaches out to pat his knuckles before she returns to her twine.
-----
He picks up Tommy's call when he's halfway home. "Hey," he says, and he knows Tommy can hear the smile in his voice. He can't bring himself to care.
"Hey. Did you already eat at your sisters?"
"No, my parents took Jee out to dinner so Maddie and Chim could have the night before Maddie imposes her weird twenty-four hour no contact rule."
"You Buckley's," Tommy says, and there's something fond in his voice that makes Buck's heart squeeze, just a bit. "I know I'll see you tomorrow night, but I thought, if you're not busy --."
"I'm not busy," Buck interrupts, and Tommy's little chuff of a laugh echoes back at him.
"Maybe I'm about to ask you to detail my truck for me."
Buck's still trying to find the right way to word his thoughts about armor-all and gear shafts when Tommy cuts across them.
"Low hanging fruit, Evan," he warns, even though he can't have possibly known what Buck was thinking.
"I was thinking about the twig, not the berries," Buck shoots back, and Tommy groans.
"You have sufficient evidence not to call it a twig."
"Which is why I was trying to compare it to the gear shift, before you derailed that train of thought."
"Do you wanna come over for dinner or not, Evan Buckley?"
Buck taps his thumbs on the steering wheel, does a little jig in his seat, tries not to smile so wide that he scares the driver next to him as he coasts to a stop at a red light.
"Are the berries on the menu?"
"The stick shift too, if you're lucky."
"This metaphor is getting a little murky."
"If you wanted to stop for shitty burgers I wouldn't mind," Tommy admits, voice softening, and Buck is already trying to plot out the best route to In-N-Out from here to Tommy's. "If you think of a way to make an Animal Style innuendo you are not getting into my pants tonight."
"I'll stick with the hot meat puns, then."
Tommy laughs, bright and loud, goofy like he can't quite control it, and Buck settles into his seat, flipping his blinker to get into the turn lane so he can double back a few blocks.
"You far enough away I can hop in the shower without telling you where I keep my hide-a-key?"
"Yeah, but maybe you should tell me anyway."
Tommy hums, and something settles under Buck's skin when Tommy gives him a frankly ridiculous set of instructions that no first responder is ever gonna follow in an emergency when they could just kick the door in, dispatch instructions be damned.
It's far too early in this, but Buck's pretty sure he's deep enough in this that it wouldn't weird him out if Tommy told him to keep the spare. He doesn't, and Buck doesn't mind, but it's there, in the back of his mind, that feeling like they're both in this for the long haul.
"Hey, I told my mom you're coming as my plus one," Buck says into the comfortable silence that drifts over the line. Tommy knows the bare minimum about his family, really, but he knows that's significant all the same.
"How did that...go?" And Buck keeps forgetting that Tommy wasn't always confidently out, that he's experienced the coming out conversation with a lot worse results than Buck's experienced, so far.
"She was mostly weirded out that you made George move to table seven," Buck jokes, because he's not sure he's fully unpacked how he feels about it yet, and Tommy - Tommy gets that.
"If I'm stepping on toes, I don't mind sitting with all the weird singles and estranged aunts, Evan," Tommy assures, for the twentieth time.
"You're sitting with the people I want you to be sitting with," Buck reminds him, and hopes he understands the part of that that Buck doesn't know how to say out loud yet.
"Noted," he says, that same tone as when he met Buck for coffee, a few weeks ago now, the weight of understanding the things between the lines.
"Go shower," Buck tells him, and tries not to let his imagination run too wild at the thought. "I'll see you in a bit."
Tommy doesn't immediately respond, and Buck can imagine him on the other side of the call, debating whether or not to make the dumb joke about detailing his gear stick himself. He clearly has better impulse control than Buck. "See you soon," he says after a beat, and hangs up before Buck can draw him back in.
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loverslodge · 1 month ago
Text
our secret
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summery: you and steve have a secret and it's about time you let everyone in on it
pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader
warning: smut, fluff, slight angst, swearing, bad writing?
A/N: i love a cuddly steve. also, this is in the same universe as 'very discreet' but it can be read as standalone.
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“Hi Captain. You didn't get your New Year’s kiss. You won't mind if I give you one, now would you?” A drunken woman stumbled upon him, puckering her lips.
Steve moved away and sighed. He did tell Bucky and Doll to come clean but now he thinks he should have done the same. Tony had invited single women purposely to get two super soldiers laid but not everyone knew the truth. While Bucky planned on revealing today, Steve was taking his sweet time.
Steve’s hand goes on the chain around his neck where hung his own wedding band. He twirled it around his finger and slipped it back in his shirt. He was going to be here to support Bucky and Doll and then return home. He missed you. As plain as that. So did Doll and Bucky.
After the party, Steve got on his bike and drove back to his home. He loved calling it home because it's where you were. He opened the front door to see all lights were off except the bedroom. He smiled. You were asleep. He knew that. He knew how sleepy his sweetheart was.
He moved around the room quietly and quickly. You stirred and sighed but didn't open your eyes. You were a light sleeper. Even the slightest of noise would wake you up. Not that Steve wasn't stealthy, you were just too aware of the surroundings. Steve once joked that you would make a fantastic stakeout agent. You had waved it off but you were very close to considering it.
Steve slid in the bed and sighed. “I'm sorry for waking you up, sweetheart. I tried to be very quiet.” He kissed your neck and pulled you against his chest.
“Not your fault. I keep telling you. Now please let's sleep?” Your groggy and whiny voice got him to pull closer than ever and bury his face in your neck. You sighed and went back to sleep, finally feeling safe in his arms.
……………………..
You were running from shelf to shelf, rearranging the books that some college kids had messed up. You were so close to hitting them with the thickest encyclopedia but sorting to violence was the day you were keen on having.
At the end of the hall, you saw a shadow but you thought it must be a customer in need of privacy. You went back to arranging. Just as you reached the almost secluded corner of the bookstore, a hand reached for your waist and pulled you against the broad, thick chest. Your gasp almost turned to a scream till you saw you grabbed you.
“Steve! You asshole! I could've alarmed people! Are you crazy?” You hit Steve on the chest with your fist and he laughs.
“I am crazy in love with you, yes. And seeing that I am Captain America, I'm sure people would have deemed you the safest in the world.” You wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face with a kiss. But you held off. You wanted to pretend to be mad at him. So you decided that it was time to tease.
“Yeah but who's saving Captain America from me?” You pull him closer by the collar of his henley and brush your lips against his. Just as he dips to catch your lips with his, you pull away and make some distance between the two of you. You turned around and started working again.
Steve was shocked. You do tease sometimes but you never completely backed off before. You would always come back to kiss. Steve felt ignited by this. He loved that you teased and moved away. Because now he had a chance to get back to you.
You and Steve did have a little playful relationship. It was innocent of course. He could never be this way with anybody. You had opened him up to a new way of loving. He thought there was a partnership but it always had a hierarchy. But you taught him that it was more of a companionship, a friendship with so many additional perks. So many of the playful interactions led you both to where you are now.
As soon as you put the last book from your hand back on the shelf, Steve pulled you to a shadowed, secluded corner of the store. He pushed you against the wall. Your eyes went wide seeing his blue eyes turn dark. He had a playful smirk on his face but you knew that you weren't going to get out of this one with a simple ‘i love you’ kiss.
“You have learnt new ways to tease me. Let's see who saves you from Captain America.”
Steve crashes his lips against yours and pulls you into his chest. Your hands that were held by Steve against the wall are free and so you snake them around his neck, pulling him closer. Wetness pools on your underwear as Steve decides to take charge of your body. He holds your thighs and you jump to wrap your legs around his waist.
He trails his kisses down your neck and chest, marking your skin as his. You trail kisses down his neck and do the same, gaining a silent moan. You are grinding against him, making him growl. “You never let me tease you, sweetheart, do you?”
A breathy chuckle leaves your mouth. “Not when you take me in your strong, muscular arms.” You pull him in for another kiss while he undoes his jeans and boxer to pull himself out.
His one arm holds your waist and the other moves your panties to the side. He lines himself up to your lips and strokes himself against your wet petals.
“Steve please. Just take me.” You moan softly, trying to keep your whine quiet.
“Oh I will take you, sweetheart. I know youre all mine to take.” He plunges himself in you without warning making you moan loudly which was muffled by his shoulder.
He doesn't give you time to adjust this time and keeps on thrusting in and out. He was harder, faster. Just how you like it. He could always tell when he needed to go harder on you and this was one of those times.
He let you muffle your moans, whines and gasps on his shoulder as he took you against the wall. You left an array of kisses on his neck and sucked a few more areas to leave more marks. He had opened your shirt just enough to bring out your nipples. He sucked on them, making your pleasure increase more.
“Steve, I'm cumming please.”
“Cum for me, sweetheart. I've got you. Come on. Cum with me.” He increased his pace and his thrusts got sloppier. You brought your hand down to your clit and rubbed it to simulate you harder. With one last thrust, you both gushed over each other. While his thrust slowed down, he did not stop. You whined.
“Steve. What are you doing?” You tried to get down but he did not relent. You groaned and arched your back against the wall as you felt the pressure start to build up again.
“I'm not done with you yet, sweetheart. You left me alone in bed this morning. This is for that.” He picked up his pace again.
You arch your back and hold on to the wall as he pushes into you again and again. Your moan accidentally slips out and you hold your hand against your mouth. Steve pulls you back to his chest and puts his lips on yours as he reaches his end as well.
With breathy grunts and moans, you both come back from a high with you ruining his jeans with a squirt and him ruining your pussy. You both stay in that position for a while till your panting seizes.
“Steve, I swear to god if you let me go and I fall, I will beat the shit out of you in front of everyone.” He lets you down and your feet wobble. He holds on to your waist tightly as you try to regain the footing. He chuckles.
“I will never let you go, sweetheart. I don't want you to go and fall for others. I only want you to fall for me.” He leans down and pecks your lips.
You swat his chest playfully and he chuckles again. “You're such a dork.”
“I love you too, sweetheart.”
………………….
Bucky and Doll were at the door when Steve opened it. He let them in and greeted Doll with a hug and Bucky with a back slap. You walked out of the kitchen and ran to hug her. Bucky envelops you both in a hug and kisses your forehead. Steve takes the wine bottle from Doll’s hand and puts it on the dining table.
“I see our husbands had the same idea this evening.” You point at Doll’s neck and she turns into a blushing mess. Doll also points at most of your marks that were showing around your neck and you laugh your blush off.
“I'm not eating in the kitchen then. I don't want Steve all over my food.” Bucky chuckles and earns a hit on the head by Steve who sees you putting your head in the freezer to hide yourself.
“Well, I cannot exactly help myself when my wife is baking. She’s all kinds of adorable.” Steve stares at you as you are working the kitchen and the dining area with Doll.
“So, punk, how are you explaining your absence from the compound? Since you still haven't told them.” Bucky takes a sip from the beer that Steve had brought out for the two of them.
“Nobody really notices me gone. I have maintained my elusiveness.” Steve bragged with a smirk.
You call them both to the dinner table and all four of you sit and enjoy the dinner. The conversation flows from joking to serious to joking and the shared experiences between two super soldiers.
“We don't need to be here, doll. I swear it's like the two of us are the third and the fourth wheel when it's the two of you.” You point at Bucky and Steve, who laugh along with Doll.
After finishing up washing the dishes, the two super soldiers join you and Doll in the living room. Bucky sits on the sofa with his arms around Doll’s shoulder and Steve pulls you on his lap.
“Woah! You still have guests over Steve, you can't do this in front of my innocent Doll.” Bucky points and you swat in the air, pretending to hit him. Steve’s laughter vibrates through your body, sending tingles all over.
“I'm not innocent Bucky.” Doll, very quietly says and you laugh even louder.
Steve loved seeing you like this. Laughing with the only family he has. You have been getting along so beautifully with his brother and his sister-in-law, he couldn't help but be even more in love with you. He always thought that you would cast him and Bucky out when he had first met you. But you have always surprised him. You embraced Bucky and welcomed him in without a second thought because you trusted Steve.
“On a serious note, don't you think it's time you tell everyone on the compound about the two of you?” Bucky puts his beer down and looks at Steve.
Steve gulped. He knew Bucky would bring it up now that his secret was out. But he did not expect him to do that in front of you. Alone, he could convince Bucky but in front of you, he thought you would take the hiding in a wrong way. Before he could say anything, your reply shocked him.
“Bucky, I trust Steve. If he wants it to be a secret then let it be. Honestly, I do understand where he's coming from. If he tells them about me then he’ll have to share me and I'm definitely sure I'm not ready to be shared.” You leaned in to kiss Steve’s cheek.
“I get it. Trust me, sweetheart, before I told them about me and Doll, I was skeptical too but as you know, it all ended well.” Bucky brings Doll closer to him.
“Bucky, the difference here is I don't live on the compound. Your secret got out because you couldn't take the relentless push for you to date. That's not the case with Steve. He has been discreet before all this happened.” You took a sip from your wine glass.
“Ok. I won't go on. But just be careful. I willingly told people and I don't want the nosy ones walking up to your doorstep to discover that he has a completely separate life, away from them.” Bucky relents.
“They might be nosy but they're still family, Steve. They have been with you through everything.” Doll takes the final sip from her wine glass and sets it down. “I know you want to stay in this bubble longer but Steve, just picture yourself in their shoes. Wouldn't you be hurt to know if one of them had a secret this big?”
“Woah, doll. That's the most I've heard you speak and that's coming from me.” Bucky kisses her forehead and you all chuckle.
Bidding them goodbye, you and Steve finally get ready for bed. You know Steve is thinking hard on what Bucky and Doll said. He talked to you about Bucky’s situation before you persuaded him to talk to the two of them to reveal their marriage. Now, here you were, not following the same advice.
Once you and Steve were settled in the bed, you turned to him. “Steve, you know there is no pressure, right?”
He sighed. He had been thinking about this for a really long time but every time he entered the apartment and saw you, he would go back in the bubble, not wanting to burst it.
“I know, sweetheart. But Doll is right. I would be hurt too. They didn't make a big deal out of Bucky being married because they expect that from him. Me, my life has always been an open book to them. My secret will hurt them more.”
“It's okay, Steve. We will make a new bubble. And as far as I know, Natasha will help us keep our bubble.” Steve smiled at you.
He pulls you in his arms and deeply kisses you. You moan against his lips. He pulls you on top of him and you lean against his chest, snuggling into his neck. He tightens his hold on you.
“Let's stay like this tonight, sweetheart. I will be bursting the bubble tomorrow.”
……………………..
“So, what's up with the meeting, Cap. Do we have a mission we don't know about? Did I fall asleep again?” Sam swivels in the chair.
“Do you always dream about being in a meeting, Birdbrain?” Bucky sits next to Steve and drags Doll’s chair closer to his.
“Tell your husband to shut up, Doll. I will attack him with Redwing.” Sam looks at Doll who just rolls her eyes and looks at Nat who smirks.
Tony saunters in the room, last as usual and Steve sits up straight. “Finally! Now we can start discussing why the hell is Cap so wound up after lunch.”
“I'm not wound up.” Steve shuffles.
“Of course you're not. Because you have regular sex.” Tony quips sarcastically and everyone in the room laughs. Bucky laughs exceptionally loud and Doll hits him on his thigh to keep him quiet.
Suddenly, the meeting room opens up and you stumble in with your hands full of boxes. Everyone goes quiet and Steve rushes to your side to help you with the boxes. You smile sweetly at Steve but refrain from kissing him in front of everyone.
“What’s with the boxes, sweetheart?” Steve pulls out the boxes from the bags.
“Well, I wanted to make a good first impression and I've heard Mr. Stark eats donuts so I assume cupcakes and donuts would be a good idea.” You smoothen your dress and Steve offers his seat for you to sit down, while he stands. He puts his hand on your shoulder and you look around sheepishly.
“Don't tell us you are married too, Cap.” Sam laughs and others join in, except you, Steve, Bucky and Doll.
The laughter dies down with a sudden pause and Steve looks around in embarrassment.
“What the hell, Steve! I thought we were your family!” Tony bounces off the chair and points accusing finger at him.
“I was going to tell you all-” Steve begins but is cut off by Natasha. “Tell us when? After you popped a baby or two? How long have you been married?”
“It's been a while.” You politely interject.
“What do you mean by a while?” Sam looks at you and everyone is waiting for you to answer.
“Well, we, uh, got married six months before the fallout so…”
“Is this why you have been cutting back from the missions?” Natasha asked and Steve nodded.
The entire room was thrown into chaos. Everyone was yelling and accusing. Steve shrunk against the wall. You had never seen him so devastated before. You rise from the chair and pull him to sit on it. He sighs and rubs his face. You pull his face against your stomach and stroke his hair to calm down.
“That is enough! So what if he didn't tell you? Can he not have a private life? Does he have to share everything?” Your anger rose. They were hurting your husband and you were not going to stand for it. “He is tired. He deserves a peaceful life and I'll be damned if anyone accuses my husband for choosing himself. Do not make this into a huge deal. If any of you were in this situation you would have done the same.”
You look around the quiet room. You look at Doll and Bucky who give you a small smile of support that makes you want to continue. You are still holding Steve and stroking his hair as he tries to hide his tears. You can feel the wetness of his tears through your shirt and your grip tightens on him.
“I understand that all of you are hurt by this. This is a huge secret he kept but he did it for himself. When has he ever done anything for himself? I'm proud of having all of you as my husband’s family but I implore you to understand the reason why. Think of it from Steve’s perspective and not yours.”
Steve has calmed down and little but still refuses to meet anyone’s eye. You settle on Steve’s lap and he pulls you closer, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. He inhales your scent deeply and you feel his body relax against yours. You wanted to coo at him and tell him everything is fine. Hell! You wanted to kiss him all over and make him feel better but now was neither a good time or place.
Steve, while hiding his face, couldn't exactly keep it under control. You always had a calming effect on him but nipping at your neck made him feel better even more. He angled his face and started leaving open kisses on your neck and sucked at a few areas. He tightened his grip around your waist to pull you closer. You held on to his hand and shoulder, concentrating on everyone’s face in the room. You were pretty sure Steve was leaving marks all over.
“We're sorry for lashing out.” Natasha was the first one to speak. “It's just, with the history we all have with Steve, we thought he would tell us if something major did ever happen with him. I'm glad you understand how shit the situation is.”
“For what it's worth, I didn't know about any of you till after a year of fallout. He went under hiding in our then shared apartment with Bucky and Doll in tow. He wanted me to meet you all but the circumstances never felt right. I'm sorry. I should've pushed him into opening up to all of you.” You profusely apologize and everyone’s eyes soften at you.
“Looks like Cap finally found someone who can handle him. Look how snuggled up he is. I guess he finally found the person who will defend him.” Tony pointed at Steve with a smile, who was still attacking your neck, hiding behind the curtain of your hair.
Bucky, who was sitting right next to you, lightly punched Steve on the shoulder to make him look up. Steve stirs and kisses your cheek before looking up at everyone. It looked like everyone was conversing with their eyes and Steve slumped back in the chair with a relaxing smile on his face.
“I'm sorry for not telling you all sooner.” Steve finally voiced his apology.
“It's okay. Your wife apologized in a much better way than you. We forgive you. Just, don't ever try to hide life altering decisions like this again.” Sam nods and takes a cupcake.
Everyone jumps on and grabs a cupcake or donut and chatters away the rest of the day, trying to get to know you better. Steve still hadn't let you get up from his lap and you were more than comfortable to ask him to. You finally saw a more relaxed Steve and your smile widened seeing him in his playful and teasing element.
There was no denying the fact that you married the love of your life and you will always defend him, even if you have to go against the world.
............................
open for request
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am-i-the-asshole-official · 10 months ago
Note
AITA for not inviting my younger sister to my wedding?
I (27M) recently got married to my wife T(28F)
Our wedding was a childfree wedding, mostly because everyone was gonna get drunk and we didnt want to have to worry about children getting hurt or messing with things. So we sent out the invites saying that everyone had to be at least eighteen in order to come to the wedding. No exceptions (We dont live in America btw so the legal drinking age in our country is 18 not 21. Just to clarify that)
Well I have a younger sister, A(14F)
And because children werent allowed at the wedding, she wasn't invited. But she knew about the wedding because she was there when me and T told my parents. So she had gotten all excited about going to the wedding even before we decided to have childfree.
According to my mom A even saved up all her allowance and bought herself a new dress to wear to the wedding.
Well once we decided to go childfree, someone had to break the news to A that she wouldn't be going. And my mother decided that since I was the one getting married I had to be the one to break the news.
So I told A that she wasn't coming to the wedding because she was too young.
She didn't take it well. She started crying, saying that she wasn't a child and wouldn't cause any problems, that this was unfair. She even asked if she could stay for the ceremony then leave before the reception. But that wouldnt work because she cant drive, someone would have to drive her home (and considering its a two hour drive from our house to the venue...yeah not exactly feasible, especially if whoever was gonna drive her home wanted to drive back for the reception) She tried to plead with our parents but they took my side and said she was too young.
Besides if we let A come then all our friends and relatives who have kids (which is most of them) would want to make an exception for THEIR kids too. Majority of those children are ten and under (mostly under) so then our wedding would be overrun with kids, defeating the entire point of going childfree. I told this to A and she got mad, saying that if she ever got married I wasn't invited either, told me to fuck off and stormed off to her room.
Well the wedding came and went, we had a blast and A was dropped off at a friend's house. I did feel bad about hurting her feelings so I saved her a big slice of wedding cake. Well the next morning when we went to drop off the cake, A had been crying the entire night since her eyes were all red and puffy. Her friend's mother tore me, T, and my parents a new one. Yelling at all four of us in the driveway, calling us selfish for not inviting my own sister to my wedding. I tried to explain that it was childfree but the mom cut me off saying that surely the sister of the groom was a reasonable exception and that A wasn't a toddler needing to be supervised, she was a teenager. She also added that she could've picked A up after the ceremony but instead we decided to be assholes and exclude her from everything.
A hasnt talked to me since, just silently glaring at me whenever I come visit.
I dont think me and T did anything wrong, since it was our wedding and we could invite whoever but I still feel awful for hurting A's feelings so idk.
Am I the asshole?
What are these acronyms?
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the-fiction-witch · 1 year ago
Text
Breathless
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Media The Artful Dodger
Character Jack Dawkins
Couple Jack X Reader
Rating Flirty Af
Warning: Medical emergency / Asthma Attack
I woke, as I typically did with a sharp fast gasp. immediately I heard the wheeze in my chest like a pair of old moth-eaten bellows. I sighed and turned to my bedstand opening the little rosewood box and hearing the gentle tune of the music box inside plaid as soon as I opened it I grabbed one of the prerolled cigarettes shutting the box again and saw the candle on my bedside table still burning so I set the tip in the flame until it began to smoulder so I laid down on my back slowly but surely taking a deep inhale and blowing the resulting smoke across my ceiling. It fixed it as much as it ever did so I finished up and set the end in my little metal box with many others. 
"There's my sweet girl!" My father gleamed as he entered my bedroom with a wide smile 
"Good Morning Father," I smiled sitting up in my bed 
"It is a fantastic morning, A perfect morning for our party!" He cheered going to open my curtains to let in the sunshine 
I smiled as much as I could force, I knew this was important to him and I wanted only to be supportive. 
"I have a gift for you" He smiled tapping my nose playfully He clicked his fingers towards the door and the maid scurried in with a large box in hand, he took the box from her and set it on the bed opening the box up pulling out from the tissue and ribbon a sweet expensive new dress.
It was beautiful, A long off-the-shoulder dress of a sweet fabric a light pale pink with vertical strips of purple, and white lace at its hem, neckline and lace elbow-length sleeves with a black ribbon at its waist. It was utterly beautiful and would not have been cheap for my father to buy. but I began to panic as I looked at it seeing the ribbon and how small it was.  
I knew my father, he meant well but he always did this and always it made me fearful.
But I forced a smile "Thank you Father" I said giving his cheek a kiss 
"You're welcome, Now come along guests begin to arrive soon" He said rushing off to make preparations. 
I sighed climbing from my bed, I went and had a nice hot bath laying in the warm water for longer than I should just because it seemed to soothe my chest but I soon climbed out and went to my window in my towel looking out to the gardens.
My father was a very wealthy businessman in port with a lot of dealings coming and going in shipping, of course, our house was lustrous and grand second only to the governors only a few miles up the road, but the governor could not hold a candle to my father's gardens, well known in the area and beyond for the grandiose and beauty of the many exotic flowers and plants from all over the world, He took great pride in the garden and this combined with his utter love fort entertaining. Meant we had an awful lot of garden parties. 
Today was no exception my father was hosting a garden party and had invited everyone who could be imagined. He adored parties being an utter social butterfly, I however was more of an.... antisocial bookworm not much wanting to go but knowing word would spread if I didn't attend my father's own parties. It didn't much help my looming age knowing at the back of my mind certain men had been invited not due to my father really wanting them at the party but my father realizing they could be a good match for me so invited them in the hope one would catch my interest. But I know I am a very lucky girl, Many fathers would be insisting by now or would have wedded their daughter off for a business deal. But My father was a decent man and had always promised me I could choose my husband, that I could marry for love no matter who it would be. He felt he couldn't deny me what he and my mother had. 
I went to my mirror and began to dress, I pulled my white stockings up to my thighs adjusting them so the little lilac bows would sit forward, I pulled my long cotton underdress over my body tugging it down as far as it would go, by then my maid arrived and I gulped as she picked up my cream corset. I simply watched the mirror doing my best to not panic as she wrapped it around me and began to lace the back, I did my best to keep my breaths slow and steady but that wasn't exactly easy until finally she finished with the back, she pinned the ribbons in place and turned me to face her so she could pull the ribbons to the front to lace it again leaving me squeezed as much as possible 
"How much more?" I gasped already feeling breathless 
"Not much more Miss." she said "Pencil thin is the London style miss" She reassured
"I am not a pencil. I am a lady." I argued half of me was joking the other half was serious. 
Finally, she tied the last bow and removed the pin in the back as there was now no give in the ribbon at all, she took my crinoline the large wicker bird cage-looking thing that always made me smile a little tieing it simply around my waist and she helped me to slip on my dress, it was beautiful and I did feel very pretty even if again the lacing began as she all but sewed me into the dress ensuring it would be as close to me as possible. Not being helped by my father's purchase choices. 
"Alright miss?" she asked as she finished the last bow 
"Yes. Thank you" I lied, finally she helped me into my shoes and left to attend the party. "Women in London must have learnt not to need to breathe" I sighed I sat at my vanity and did what little make-up I bothered with before finally taking my hair from the tight braid I had done last night allowing it to now be in sweet curls. Once done I looked out to the window again seeing people had already gathered for the party so I grabbed my lace fan and my parasol and headed down to the gardens. 
"Ahhh My goodness an angel!" My father joked as he saw me "You look beautiful" He smiled 
"Thank you Father" I smiled 
"Go on then, Mingle I'll check in on you later," He told me ushering me deeper into the party, I did my rounds parasol in hand often batting my fan to try and get some air down my throat doing my best to greet and be pleasant with people. 
As I made the rounds I took note of those who were here already spotting a few men my father would have invited purely in the hopes of grabbing my attention but as I walked to a less populated area of the garden I took a seat for a moment on the stone bench I spotted a similar soul. 
He stood by one of the statues away from the main business of the party, dressed in his usual way but cleaned up a little better, he seemed awkward unsure why he was here, out of place in this bussle. I felt for him of course and for a moment even I wasn't sure why he was here. But then I recalled seeing Dr Sneed on my walk around the party and I know how my father thinks, my father would have invited Dr Sneed because he is his doctor and thus not inviting his own doctor to his party would be rude, and of course then in my fathers mind he must also invite Dr Dawkins for if he invited Sneed and Not Dawkins that too would have been rude. Honestly, I'm surprised he took up the invitation. For a moment we caught eyes and he offered me a small smile so I did my best to do so back. 
“You alright my sweet?’ my father asked as he approached sitting beside me
“Yes, just wanted a moment from all the excitement” I smiled
‘ahh well come along we are to begin the walk” he smiled to me taking my hand and soon enough the walk began, this was typical of every party my father would lead a walk around the gardens explaining almost every flower and plant giving a tour to the guests of course most ate it up but I slowly but surely slinked away until I was at the very back of the walk where I again found Dr Dawkins.
“Good day doctor”
“Good day miss y/l/n, does your father always do this?’
“Yes” I chuckled moving my parasol slightly higher as to protect him too
“AHH thank you” he smiled moving a little closer to be under the protection of the lace from the blistering sun
“Quite alright” I answered “what brings you to the party?”
“Your father invited me. Wasn't going to bother but something to do I suppose’ he chuckled
“I guess. I rather find it all tedious”
“well we agree on some things’ he chuckled “I have to admit though your dress is utterly stunning”
“Thank you doctor’ I blushed a little but had to fan myself quickly as I felt slightly breathless from the walking
“Ohh don't worry pleatenties of the party you can just call me jack” he smiled
“ohh that's very sweet, thank you jack’ I smiled “then y/n I insist”
“Why thank you, My god is he going to take us past every plant?” He whispered
“That he is” I smiled
“Any particular reason?’
‘its his pride. He adores his garden above all else?”
“Even you?’
“I don't know, I should hope not but I wouldn't be surprised’
“Why? Why would be focus so much on his garden and not his daughter?”
“He promised my other that her beloved garden would always bloom, she died only a few days later” I explained
“Ohh forgive me y/n I-”
“It's alright, he can be… overboard at times” I said doing my best to slow and catch my breath
“Are you alright?’ he asked
“Yes forgive me-”
“No no it's alright, are you sure? You seem lost for breath?’ he said carefully taking my arm
“I'm fine” I answered as I gasped trying hard not to wheeze or cry anything that might draw attention to myself he seemed panicked I tried again and gasp but it just wasn't working and I almost went over
“Whoa. I'm taking you inside’ he said quickly putting an arm around me and taking me quickly back to the house I dropped my parasol and fan as soon as I got in the door trying desperately to get my breath in “which way to your room?”
“This way” I gasped now beginning to cough and wheeze loudly taking his hand and leading him to my room as soon as I was inside I leant on my ottoman trying desperately to get some air into my lungs as he shut the door and came over
“Are you short of breath?”
“Yes” I gasped surely that was obvious
“try to breathe slow for me if you can” he asked and I did my best but that only made me wheeze louder
“Take off your dress.” He said
“I beg your pardon Dr Dawkins!’ I argued
“I need to examine you take off your dress” he said
“I cannot” I answered between gasps
“I'm a doctor I won't look y/n but I need to exmaine you” he said
“No I cannot. My maid she-”
“She's sewn you into the dress?” he asked and I nodded “alright” he said slipping off his jacket and grabbing a small knife from his pocket “I'll be as careful as I can” he said slowly using the blade to cut where my dress had been stitched by my maid until finally it released I quickly stepped away and pushed the dress off me as well as my crinoline immediately I felt a little better as I looked forward letting out slow breaths I caught sight of jack in my mirror he lied to me. He was looking. But I felt still so breathless that I tumbled onto my ottoman ‘whoa whoa! I got you. I got you.” He reassured only just catching me making me sit on the ottoman “I need to remove your corset”
“Doctor!”
“I have to remove it” he said coming to face me starting to unlace my corset ties quickly with his nimble fingers “out of curiosity. How'd your mother die?”
“Respiratory failure” I gasped and he looked up to me seeming panicked
“How old was she?”
“Twenty nine”
“Christ - for - god-” he grunted trying to deal with the knots and loops and ties in my corset until finally he unlaced the front and tried to pull it off but of course it didn't move he looked confused so I moved his hand to my back and he moved behind me seeing of course all the lacing on the back ‘oh you gotta be kidding me!’ he complained “they really didn't want you of this dress.’ he said fighting with the ties before “fuck it!’ he complained grabbing his knife again and cutting though the lacing managing to force the whole corset off me and that helped considerably “there we go.” He said a lift proud of himself “nice and slow let me listen” he said for a moment looking around the room clearly for something to use to listen but “I don't have my tools uhhh okay. Guess we have to do this the old fashioned way” he said sitting on the ottoman with me lifting my underdress up to expose my bare back I glanced in the mirror again and saw his cheeks slightly deeper with red his eyes glancing down from my neck all the way to the ottoman before he moved closer resting his head on my back to press his ear to my skin “nice and slow for me. Just breathe with me In. And out. In and back out” he said and I did my best to breath with him even if I ended up coughing and wheezing as he walked me through a few long breaths “how long have you been like this?” He asked as he pulled back moving so I could see his face letting go of my underdress
“Forever”
“I get the feeling you need to tell me something.” He said
“I'm asthmatic. Have been as long as I can remember.” I answered
“That certainly explains a lot” he said “when did a doctor tell you?”
“I was nine.”
“I take it your mother was too?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, how are you managing it? What do you have to take when you get like this?” He asked
“The box on my bedside table” I told him still struggling he got up and went to the box seeming confused
“What are these?”
“Asthma cigarettes. Prof prescribed them” I answered
“You smoke!’ he argued
“On doctors instructions yes.” I answered
“Are you mad!”
“There not tobacco there thorn apple leaves there meant to help” I said
He sighed begrudgingly bringing one over so I took it and lit it on a candle sitting for a few moments slowly inhaling it all
He brushed the smoke away from his face a moment before rather angrily speaking “he's mad.”
“It helps.”
“So would you sitting not moving for the ten minutes it took you to smoke that” he argued “but that dress wasn't helping in the slightest why on earth did they lace you in that corset so much?”
“It's the style apparently. Plus I needed to”
“Why?”
“...father buys all my dresses two sizes smaller then I am. I have to double lace the corset for a hope of even getting in them
“Why would he do that?”
“He means well. He thinks if he buys all my clothes too small it's… encouraging”
“Encouraging? I hate to ask but when did you last eat anything?”
“...four days ago.”
“Okay, that is also not going to be helping.” He said
“Yeah well you try fitting into a dress with a twenty one inch waist” I pouted
“I think he's trying to kill you.” He joked “you feel a bit better now?”
“Yes. Thank you jack”
“You're welcome. How often do you get attacks like that?”
“once a week or so.”
“Does your father know?”
“Somewhat. I don't always tell him the whole truth”
“Would you be against coming to the hospital?”
“What?”
“I am not confident about leaving you alone tonight. If you agree I'll talk to your father take you to the hospital I'll keep you under observation myself.”
“Why?”
“.... I fear this may be worse then just a simple attack y/n”
“I don't want to worry my father. he's fearful enough as it is”
“Then which would you rather? He be a little worried a stressed as you spend the night in hospital in my care or he comes in here and finds you dead in your bed tomorrow morning because I'm pretty sure which one will upset him more.”
“One night?”
“One night. Under observation.”
“Alright jack”
“Thank you y/n” he smiled giving my hand a kiss “just rest i'll go see your father” he said as he got up and headed out of my room.
Eventually he arrived with my father in tow and the two discussed as my maid packed me some items and my father called us a carriage, I changed into my loosest dress doing my best not to show my father my struggles
“Perhaps Dr sneed would be better he is my doctor he's taken such food care of me” he began
“Dr sneed is very busy he won't have time and what she needs is observations now I have the time to do so”
“Keep me posted won't you?”
“I promise.”
“You'll take care of her doctor?”
“Absolutely, I promise she'll be back right as rain”
“Alright, I'll see you soon sweetheart” he smiled kissing my head before he slowly and tenderly let my hand go giving it to jack, he smiled to me squeezing my hand and leading me slowly to the carriage luckily the party never even noticed but as i sat down my father pulled jack close to him. “Anything happens to her. It's your head.”
“Yes sir” he nodded before climbing into the carriage with me.
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morgansorgans-org · 1 month ago
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Collection of nrmt/klpl fics!
An oomf on Instagram asked if I could compile all my favorite Ace Attorney fics! They are all and Wrightworth and Klapollo fics. The first few are my favorites (usually means they made me cry or emotionally impacted me 🧍) but I like all the others I linked here ofc as well! Many of these came from rec lists on tumblr, because that’s how I started out reading aa fics!
Wrightworth fics
Legal Partners by Miggy, 132k words, 34/34 chapters, 2013
Summary: Miles Edgeworth isn't totally sure how he ended up in this bet to demonstrate the strength of his and Phoenix Wright's (entirely professional and platonic! really!) relationship, but he knows it's Klavier's fault.
Absolutely one of my most favorite fics ever, I’m not gonna lie. Genuinely so good. I was clutching my phone the entire third act of the fic, absolutely ridden with anxiety. I read for 12 hours straight that third act, during exam season, eyes absolutely bloodshot and had a splitting headache by the end because I was staring at my phone for far too long. It’s so good.
I think my biggest qualm I have with this master class of a fic if I had to say, would probably be the characterization of Klavier? he feels too straight in this I don’t know how else to put it. But honestly it’s so minor I don’t really care and I’ve read this twice (which I never do)
Project Matchmakers by WingSongHalo, 126k words, 16/16 chapters, 2018
Summary: It was quite distressing, Pearl thought. For years previously, she had been quite fixated on the idea of her cousin and Mr. Nick living happily ever after. Even after she had accepted that this would never happen, she was always somewhat enamored of the idea that one of them would someday be caught up in a whirlwind romance, passionate and adventurous.
So she was rather surprised to find herself immensely enjoying the steady, familiar relationship she saw between a defense attorney and a prosecutor. It wasn't loud or flashy or wild, but calm and reliable and quiet. Rather than a blazing fire that consumed everything, theirs was an affection like a candle flame, bringing forth light and warmth.
Well, except for when they were in court. Then they were rather more like two overzealous flamethrowers.
An excitable group of girls (and a reluctant Apollo) team up to make Phoenix and Miles realize they're crazy about each other. But are such measures really necessary?
Canon universe.
Loved this one. Very good. I loved the side casefic it had and how it affected the main characters as well. I love the everyone ships wrightworth trope so much.
A Night You’ll Never Regret by MaudMoon (Idle_Wanderings), 88k words, 7/7 chapters, 2018
Summary: After learning about a clerical error on their wedding certificate, Maggey and Gumshoe decide to go all out and invite their friends and family to a vow renewal ceremony in Las Vegas. Edgeworth, spurred on by his sister's threats encouragements, decides to use the trip as an opportunity to express feelings he's been holding onto for years.
However when Edgeworth, Larry, and Phoenix wake up the morning after Gumshoe's bachelor party, it doesn't take them long to realize things didn't go as planned: Edgeworth's cards have been declined, Larry has been mysteriously injured, and Phoenix wakes up wearing a wedding ring. And, to top it all off, Gumshoe is missing. They'll need to rush against time to find Gumshoe before his wedding, and to do that they'll need to figure out what the hell exactly happened last night.
Soooo good! I love the mystery aspect of it all and everyone recounting and slowly piecing together what happened. It’s very sweet too and also kinda nsfw be warned…. also Maya x Rhoda was definitely not what I was expecting tbh
To play due process like a fiddle by Harmony, 19k words, 1/1 chapters, 2024
Summary: As far as Miles can tell, Agent Lang's initial impression of certified hot mess Phoenix "That Man" Wright upon their first meeting wasn't exactly the most positive, and tragically enough, it's not like Miles can really blame him for having that perception.
That said, they both probably should've known that Phoenix hadn't been named the Turnabout Terror for nothing.
(Or: what it means to judge solely based on first appearances and then have all of your expectations rocked off-balance, especially when they revolve around one of the most outstanding attorneys the criminal justice system has ever known).
Deeeeeelicious. So good. Love the tension between Phoenix and Lang and them essentially kinda fighting for Edgeworth even though it’s a very skewed battle against Lang. Aaaagh
A fool in love (with you) by gen, 17k words, 1/1 chapters, 2016
Summary: Miles and Phoenix (finally, no really, after two years of being engaged) decide to tie the knot. On the day of the wedding, they are reminded of all the moments that got them there.
Sooooo cute! This one helped inspire me for my last chapter of my own wrightworth fic actually! This author actually wrote a klapollo long fic I’ve been meaning to check out actually, called The Sound of Silence. I’ve been scared off by how heavy the warnings of the angst ahead are ngl. But this one shot in contrast is very fluffy and sweet!
A Beginner’s Guide on how Not to Write Steel Samurai Fanfiction by chameleonwrites, 16k words, 6/6 chapters, 2021
Summary: Verity Baytum, a court stenographer, has a secret passion for writing Steel Samurai fanfiction based around the pairing Magisteel. When she finds an unlikely source of inspiration during her job, she can't help but watch court proceedings in search of further lines that fit her fics.
Miles Edgeworth, said source of inspiration, has a secret passion for reading Steel Samurai fanfiction based around the pairing Magisteel. It doesn't take long for him to realise the reason the characters sound like him and Wright is not due to personal projection.
I really liked this one, it’s very funny and sweet. I also realized this fic kind of predicted the name Verity for an AA character…
Yours, Mine, and Maybe Ours by estelraca, 13k words, 1/1 chapters, 2015
Summary: Phoenix convinces Miles to bring Trucy in with him for Bring Your Daughter to Work Day, despite Miles' misgivings. Everything becomes even more complicated when Kay Faraday and Shi-Long Lang call on him for assistance. Set between the original trilogy and Apollo Justice; mild spoilers for both Investigations games.
Loved this one! I really like any fics with Trucy as a bigger character (wow who knew look at all my SNS accounts with trucy pfps) especially ones that delve deeper into her relationship between her and Edgeworth.
The Prosecution Rests by Commander_Freddy, 4k words, 1/1 chapters, 2016
Summary: Miles Edgeworth goes to bed, and then wakes up.
Very good. Short but impactful and angsty and sweet. Commander Freddy has some other very good AA fics you should check out also.
Archeology by sunsmasher, 8k words, 1/1 chapters, 2014
Summary: Phoenix and Maya finally clean out Mia's office. Far, far too many people help.
Very short but very good. Deals with Mia grief and also has side Wrightworth content.
To Their Happiness by ,,,,, 41k words, 10/10 chapters, 2024
Summary: Trucy Wright sees that her daddy's friend, Miles Edgeworth, makes him happy in a way she can't. She knows he's sad and lonely, despite trying his best to hide it from her. She makes a promise to herself that she would try to have Miles around as often as she could, for his happiness.
Or, an evolution of Wrightworth's relationship through Trucy's eyes. Trucy and co. sees Phoenix and Miles feel that special way that adults feel for each other and tries to matchmake them. It's mostly Trucy doing that, though.
teehee. you think I wouldn’t go without promoting my OWN fic? you thought wrong!!! I’m also working on a Klapollo fic (it’s like 37k words so far) but I’ll be lucky if it gets uploaded by the end of 2024 with the pace I’m writing it at. It’s so close to completion though…
Klapollo fics
Hot for Justice by indirectkissesiniceland, 43k words, 26/26 chapters, 2013
Summary: After the events of State v. Misham, Klavier finds himself in a slump, stressed at the prosecutor's office and unable to pen new songs. To his surprise, he finds creative inspiration—and unexpected feelings—spending time with Apollo. Now if only he could release the new tracks without raising any suspicion as to whom his love songs are for.
God, is there a klapollo fic rec list without Hot for Justice on it? It’s such a classic, and rightfully so. This fic also inspired me as well to write my next fic! It’s just this good.
Vacation All I Wanted by JJsADragon, 111k words, 24/24 chapters, 2020
Summary: “A vacation?” Apollo asked.
“Yeah! You know what a vacation is, right Polly? When are you going to get another opportunity like this? A beach vacation? A pool? It’s not like you could afford this place without splitting the cost.”
One condo. Six lawyers. Seven secret plans. What could possibly go wrong?
This fic is like. A need I go on? Moment. It’s so iconic and good. This along with Legal Partners probably permanently organized my brain chemistry, I think. Good god the angst. The fluff. this fic genuinely made me sob which. A book hasn’t done that to me in a very long time! there’s a scene where Apollo talks about grief and that was very relatable. This fic also does breach the subject of suicidal ideation, but it is brief. In general this is a lighthearted fic!
If it’s really me you seek by seamint, 83k words, 21/21 chapters, 2021
Summary: “Anyway,” Ema keeps going, fully ignoring his sarcasm in favor of staring at a neat corner where the walls meet the ceiling. “I asked if he wanted to go to your party together, but he said he wasn’t going.”
“What?” Apollo suddenly finds it very hard to breathe. “Why?”
“Hell if I know,” Ema says nonchalantly, but then she turns to him with a smirk. “See if you can figure it out: I believe he told me, and I quote—ahem—'Ach, I would, Fräulein, but I believe Herr Justice would be more comfortable without me there.’”
Or, when Apollo comes home from Khura'in only to learn that Prosecutor Gavin is avoiding him, the last thing he expected was for Gavin to offer to let Apollo stay at his house while he looks for a new apartment.
It’s been a hot minute since I read this one (one of the first klapollo fics I read) but this one was veryyy good. Very much inspired me. Honestly all of Seamint’s stuff is good.
And if all my wishes could come true by seamint, 45k words, 8/8 chapters, 2022
Summary: “‘Our son’ my ass. You’re getting way too into this,” Apollo grumbles, rolling his eyes. “Is this your dream? Do you dream of being divorced and paying alimony, Gavin?”
Klavier doesn’t tell him that as far as dreams go, his is to live in a world where a relationship with Apollo, past tense or otherwise, is at all possible. Apollo doesn’t need specifics, or terrible confessions in vet clinics that show how badly Klavier wants to play pretend with him.
Or, Klavier, Apollo, and how cats bring people together in the most convoluted ways possible.
Looove this. Very fluffy. Mikeko being the center of attention as well and that’s of course why we’re reading this who cares abt klapollo frrr
Turnabout Dungeons (and Dragons) by Synthpop, 170k words, 33 chapters, 2016
Summary: According to Mr. Wright, Dungeons and Dragons is good, if not crucial, for cultivating trusting relationships between friends and coworkers. Apollo has his doubts.
So goood. I love D&D and Klapollo and this is the perfect mix of this. Bard klavier, paladin apollo, need I go on? Phoenix is the dungeon master and Ema, Trucy, Athena and Simon are also apart of the party as well
can I go where you go by parchmints, 40k words, 6/6 chapters, 2021
Summary: Apollo Justice has rotten luck: he actually wins the grand prize for a mail-in contest, but It's a couple's getaway to a fancy ski lodge in the mountains and Apollo is aggressively single. With no one to go with, Apollo offers them to Klavier since surely, a rockstar would be able to find a date before then, but Klavier has a better idea—they go together and pretend they're a couple. That way, they both get a vacation, plus free food and wine.
And well, Apollo's never been one to pass up free food.
So good!!! There’s some wonderful art in this one as well!! I remember being super hooked by this one and giggling over the fake dating stuff. Loved it
Things are as they are by hechima, 34k words, 3/3 chapters, 2021
Summary: Klapollo cabin fic. That's really all this is.
Need I say more? Yes, two cabin fic recs back to back. One cabin in the snow and the other in some desert. Loved the character analysis in this one.
Gravity by Euphorion, 46k words, 7/7 chapters, 2014
Summary: In the aftermath of his brother's arrest, Klavier is trying to balance his law career and a solo music career, with some success—but with less savory consequences as well. His fans are fixating on every aspect of his life, desperate for his attention and jealous of his relationships with the people around him. They've singled out his courtroom rival, Apollo Justice, as the target of their frustrations.
hooo boy this one is pretty angsty in a way. Lots of things going on in this one. We have some crazy Gavinners fans in this, endangerment of lives, stalking, mail… it’s a bit dark but very engaging!
It’s all that I am and all that I have by eternalmagic, 58k words, 12/12 chapters, 2016
Summary: Apollo sucks in a breath, attempting to steel his nerves. Should he honestly send this...? He doesn't even know who this man is. This is a huge, huge mistake. But, even so, he hits send before he can remind himself of how awful an idea this is.
Dear You,
I think I love you. Just wanted you to know.
From,
Me
Klavier's phone pings with an email notification, and the moment he reads it, the smile fades from his face. God, this was so much easier when he didn't know that the sender hated him in real life.
[ or, the you've got mail au. ]
Sooo good! I’ve never watched the movie before, and honestly, you don’t have to. It’s very engaging and oh my goddd the angst you have to get through to get to the fluff…. So worth it.
Anyway, Here’s Guilty Love by u_andcloud, 129k words, 22/22 chapters
Summary: The entirety of Ivy U is smitten with Klavier Gavin—with one exception. Apollo Justice could do without Klavier’s constant presence in the quad, where he serenades passerby with acoustic versions of his band's songs. Apollo is also not particularly fond of Klavier’s clothes, his hair, his tendency to sprinkle German into his conversations, or the fact that, despite all of this, Klavier is still at the top of the class.
So when Klavier asks Apollo to help him start a club for aspiring lawyers on campus, Apollo isn’t entirely sure why he accepts. It’s a resume builder, he tells himself. It’s not like he has to like the guy.
Except, well....he's starting to think that he might.
[Or, a simple college AU turned AA4 re-imagining.]
AHHHHH. College AU fic set in Ivy U. In AU fics like these, I’m always interested in how the author will deal with Kristoph, considering his story is so intertwined with both Apollo and Klavier. This fic did it so well and seamlessly my goddd. I loved it.
Undeniable you (the currents pulling me onward) by experimentaldragonfire, 59k words, 11/11 chapters, 2020
Summary: Kristoph Gavin is found dead in his prison cell, and Klavier Gavin is the prime suspect.
With nobody else available to defend him, Apollo Justice flies in from Khura'in to take the case--but during the course of the trial and its aftermath, long-hidden secrets come to light.
I looove Klavier being suspected of murder fics. They executed this concept very well. I know abt experimentaldragonfire as they were one of the hosts for the klapollo minibang (2024) I was apart of! Their writing is indeed, fire. Check out their other fics as well!
Apollo Justice: Between the Cases by joggingoctopus, 84k words, 18/18 chapters, 2023
Summary: What happened between cases in the Apollo Justice game? Here's one way things could have played out!
A retelling of apollo Justice, kind of! I really liked how the author explained some of the stuff in Ace Attorney, and it will go into my personal AA belief system I think. They also have a sequel fic which I’ve yet to read bc im very scared! (Clay things)
Delicate by ronsenberg, 30k words, 5/5 chapters, 2020
Summary: Everything about the situation is wrong, from the suitcase in Apollo’s arms to the blaring of car horns from the cars waiting behind him. It doesn’t matter. “I have been thinking-” he starts, voice faltering. It is very unlike him to be at such a loss for words, but he has never found himself in a situation quite like this before. “Ach, wondering, really-”
Apollo raises his brow, glancing at the digital clock on the dash and back into Klavier’s eyes in quick succession. “Klavier, my flight-”
“-Marry me?” The words come out in a rushed and poorly articulated interruption. Apollo blinks, his mouth falling slightly open in surprise. “When you come back, ja? Marry me.”
A Post-Spirit of Justice Proposal fic.
As of writing this right now, I just finished this fic so it’s very fresh in my memory! I really liked it! The way they wrote what would most likely be a realistic depiction of Klapollo if it were to happen in real life. It has all the downs and lows and the highs that you’d expect in a realistic relationship.
Glowing embers dying fire by virtualmushroom, 88k words, 20/20 chapters, 2023
Summary: Klavier has a crush on Apollo and he makes that abundantly clear.
Apollo, however, is oblivious and takes Klavier's enamored flirting for simple teasing. After all, why would a famous prosecutor rockstar come to like an "average" guy like him?
Despite that, Apollo comes to unlearn the preconception he has of Klavier and see beyond his mask, into the person he really is, someone not as cheerful as he may appear.
An also realistic in-canon depiction of Klapollo I really like! This was also written by my good friend!
Words Come Fluently by ItsyRoyal, 50k words, 12/12 chapters, 2021
Summary: Klavier Gavin is the most famous rockstar in the world. Guilty Love is about to go platinum and the tour sold out fourteen stadiums. So there's really, really no reason why one anonymous music critic on Youtube who hates him should get under his skin. And yet somehow he'd do just about anything to convince MikekoMusic to like him.
Apollo has been doing Youtube as a fun side hustle while he tries to break into the talent management industry, and he's just landed an assistant gig working for Kristoph Gavin. Whose main client is his golden boy younger brother. Whose music Apollo has been anonymously trashing for years.
Yeah, this is all going to go fine.
auuuuuuuuuuugh oh my god the DRAMA in this. Really good. The best part about this is the reassurance of no murders and clay BEING ALIVE!! I love clay alive fics, esp if they’re of him reacting to Klapollo.
Mission Control by ForeheadandFop, 12k words, 1/1 chapters, 2015
Summary: Like any good friend, Clay takes an interest in Apollo's career; he can't help it if the most interesting part is Klavier.
Loved this as well. Very good. It fulfills my needs of clay reacting to klapollo as mentioned above but however. This is canon compliant….🧍happy ending though …
I think that’s it for my list for recommendations! Sorry a lot of them are long fics 😭😭
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abbysimsfun · 1 month ago
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Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 77 (A Baby and a Surprise!)
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Heather went into labour at the tail end of fall. She left work and phoned Conrad, who set aside his casework to meet her at the hospital.
When he arrived, he called Ash on the phone he was too young for - but Nancy had insisted on it. "Hey bud, are you going to be okay at home for a bit? Mrs. Goth's on her way over to hang out until we get back from the hospital, but we might not get home until you're in bed."
"Gord's here; I'm good."
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"Just remember to lock the door and don't answer for anyone but Mrs. Goth."
"I know," he said casually. "Are you at the hospital, too? Is mommy okay?"
"She'll be fine, but when we come home we'll be bringing your little brother or sister."
"That's pretty cool." He still didn't completely understand, but everyone around him was happy about it, so Ash was happy, too. "Are you going to get married like Daddy and Miko?"
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Conrad paused. "Do you think your mom and I should get married?"
Thoughtful and smart, Ash considered the question. "I don't know what you should do, but sometimes I don't know what to call you."
"What do you mean, buddy? Conrad's just fine."
"I mean at school, when people ask if you're my stepdad."
Conrad gaped. "What do you tell them?"
"I say sort of. Don't people who love each other get married?"
He laughed. "It's about a bit more than that."
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"How much more?"
He didn't have an answer. Not for a five-year-old. And maybe, if he really thought about it, he didn't have an answer for himself. But his thoughts were interrupted by some noise on Ash's end of the line. "Mrs. Goth just got here and she wants to teach me to play chess. She won't let me wear my hat! She says it frames my face wrong."
Conrad shook his head with a laugh. "It's not too cold out tonight. Just humour her and try not to beat her too badly once she's taught you how to play."
Ash grumbled playfully. "It's not my fault games are easy."
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Conrad hung up and returned his attention to Heather, who sat on the bed doing breathing exercises between contractions. This was her third time in labour and delivery, and Conrad was far more nervous. "What was all that about?" she wondered.
"He asked if we were going to get married like Malcolm and Miko, but now Mrs. Goth has him focused on learning to play chess."
Heather smiled. "Malcolm says he's always asking him and Miko to have a wedding he can be invited to since they eloped without telling anyone. He'd scam all of us for that much wedding cake."
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She grimaced as her contractions returned, breathing through them as Conrad felt helpless to soothe her pain. "What can I do?"
"Just be here. And get me ice chips, maybe."
"I can do that."
As Heather's labour progressed, they moved downstairs to a birthing room. Conrad swayed with her between contractions. "Why do you look so...concerned?" she asked.
"I'm not. I was just thinking about what Ash said earlier."
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"When he asked if we're getting married?"
"He said he doesn't know what to call me because I'm not technically his stepdad. We know we're a team, and I know what we said after Hazel's wedding, but marriage means more to some people than just the certificate."
"What do you mean?"
"I think I want to get married."
"You think...?"
"Heather Nesbitt, I want to marry you."
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"Not today, I hope." She grunted with discomfort. (He never fails to make her flirty but today is the exception, pushing out a human and with a full cache of uncomfortable moodlets drowning out everything else.) "I'm sorry, I love you...I was never the girl who dreamed of planning her wedding. I want to get married. Wait. Are you proposing?"
"You're hanging on a little tight for me to let go to get down on one knee, but whenever and however you want to get married, I'll be there."
She smiled as they swayed. "I was going to say the same to you."
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"I am going to tell our friends you're my fiancee now, though."
"I like that."
After another contraction, he helped her back into bed and she looked at him with a serious expression. "Nothing will change once we get married, right? We'll still always be us. We're a team, and we'll always tell each other what we're feeling?"
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"Married or not, we're a team." Leaning forward he kissed her head, gently caressing her hands with his own. "I'm with you forever. You, me, Ash, and this wild one right here. I love you."
"Are you two teammates ready to push?" Dr. Serra interrupted their quiet moment with a smile. "You should be fully dilated now."
"I'm so ready to get this baby out of me, Dr. Serra. If they kick me one more time I might explode from the inside out."
After one final exam, Dr. Serra nodded. "It's time."
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Heather laboured with Conrad by her side. In the early hours of the morning, Dr. Serra announced he could see the head. "It won't be long now, Heather. Just keep pushing."
Conrad held her while she worked to bring their child into the world. "You're the strongest woman I know," he assured her. "The baby's almost here."
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"The shoulders are out, Heather. One more big push."
Heather complied with a grimace, and her efforts were met with the wailing cries of a healthy infant.
"Congratulations, you guys. It's a..." Dr. Serra paused for dramatic effect as he passed the infant to Heather's waiting arms. "...Girl! You have a daughter!"
Heather smiled, holding their baby girl against her chest as Conrad looked on in awe. Ten fingers, ten toes, and a healthy set of lungs - little Lavender Helena Gordon was finally here!
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With winter just around the corner, how would the Nesbitt-Gordon household adjust as a family of four (+ 4 pets)? ->
<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start
NOTE: I didn't plan their engagement at all. They did this entirely on their own and this is the stuff I live for with this game. After Heather went into labour, Ash got a text from Conrad, and it was the whole 'I found a ring, what should I say?' advice cycle. And since it's technically against the rules for them to get married, I could have said no. I wanted to say yes! And after Ash was so supportive of Malcolm and Miko, and with how much he loves Conrad, I couldn't bear for him to be the one to say no. So I split the difference and said 'decide for yourself.'
Without skipping a beat, Heather and Conrad decided for themselves to get engaged! This isn't in the challenge rules, but they wanted this, I definitely wanted this, and I think we all wanted this! And I loved so much that Conrad asked Ash. Their bond is so deep. He's been in Ash's life since before he was two, which really isn't that much less time than Malcolm, since Ash's bio-dad skipped the first year of his life being a dick.
There was the issue that Heather wouldn't propose, but technically Conrad didn't propose, either. She's so unflirty and content as things stand, and even though this engagement was autonomous and that's everything, it didn't come with any animations. So since it all went down while Heather was in labour, I reshot everything in a second save and gave the very important moment the storyline it definitely deserved. (This also explains why they're in many different hospital rooms and beds while in labour but shhhh! It's an illusion, it's all happening at the same time!)
NOTE 2: All the poses used for this post are from the New Life pose pack by @eclypt0sims, which I think is spectacular! But I don't know how to use toddler sliders, so it's angles to disguise that there's no baby in those shots. But there could be if you have skills!
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randombush3 · 8 months ago
Text
a sense of coming home
ona batlle x reader
summary: part two of this! ona and you are (frustratingly) still just friends
words: 6.5k (i have NO idea why i waffle so much but lets pls allow it)
warnings: there's like five secs of smut at the end
notes: this has been the most self-indulgent fic i've written because this is how i met my gf and so i am glad to show you a nice happy ending
again, the quote is from 'this side of paradise' (said gf's fav book - i don't recommend however because the protagonist is a twat)
also i didn't proofread bc i am exhausted and i am hungover and i am very ready to go to sleep (#globetrotting is not for the weak) x
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There is something difficult about forcing oneself back to their toxic roots. Ona discovers as such as she presses her body into a temple of meaningless sex, but she does so because she is a driven person. Ona is determined to get over you, once and for all, except she’d quite like to stay friends (hence why she agreed when asked). She also thinks it would expose her to fall out because her feelings shouldn’t have existed anyway, so she technically shouldn’t be heartbroken? 
Anyway, Ona rampages through Manchester! They appreciate her accent – some even ask her to speak to them in Spanish when she is three fingers deep inside of them, to which she obliges with little fanfare – and it isn’t like the city lacks queer women. It is a super solid way to keep her busy, to tear her attention from hungrily checking your Instagram whenever possible. 
It’s also what lands her with coronavirus. She’s embarrassed to admit just how many people she has come into contact with when the club doctors ask her questions over the phone.
You send her a lovely message after hearing she is yet another fallen soldier. 
Ona is at home, isolating, and you are apparently trapped in Spain, unable to get into Italy. You haven’t quite made it to your parents’ house since your flight was supposed to depart from Madrid. “How come you’re not on the phone to one of your ‘connections’?” Ona asks suspiciously, wondering why this call has lasted longer than ten minutes. “Surely someone knows someone else and they can get you back home.” 
“I’m hardly out of my depth in my own country,” you remind her with a twinging sigh, pained that she has suppressed all memories of your childhood. “It’s not like I don’t speak Spanish.” 
“Didn’t you get rid of it in your head to make space for Italian and English? Oh, and French too, right? That’s where the fashion weeks are.” 
You laugh at her pride for knowing something about your job, but it is not to ridicule her. “I am speaking to you, aren’t I?” 
“In Catalan,” she points out. “Forget Spanish, but don’t forget Catalan.” 
“I can’t. It’s the language everyone uses to tell me about how fucked you’ve been lately.”  You take in a deep breath, uncomfortable with Ona’s silence but knowing your piece needs to be said. “Are you aware of what happened a few months ago? Why I missed the wedding?” One of your friends met her dream man and he whisked her off to Menorca for a small ceremony. Only the people she loved the most were invited, which included your childhood friend group. “We were in New York, a whole bunch of us. It was late but the show had been a big deal so we went out to celebrate, and… these ‘friends’, these people, they aren’t the same as you and me. Most of them are English, you know, and they come from very fancy schools where addiction is normal. Two of them ended up in the hospital that night – the bag hadn’t even made it round to me by the time they’d dropped. I know it seems far-fetched, but all I’m trying to say is that addiction has consequences. Bad consequences.” 
“So you’re not on my side?” Ona isn’t taking this too seriously. A few people have joked about her questionable new hobby, but no one has made it seem so dire that they have needed to get you involved. You who, of course, Ona will listen to. 
“I am always on your side.” 
That is her main take-away from the conversation, Ona chooses, when it ends an hour later. She swoons, meaning the last twenty women have been a waste of time, but she also tortures herself into ignoring the potential problem. Being a sex addict would be embarrassing, so she won’t be. 
Though your subtle shaming for her abundance of quick-fix flings is hypocritical, Ona would also hate for you to see her that way. You can avoid commitment all you like, but she is determined to be different to prove to you that she is a viable candidate, should you wish to stop stringing her along. It’s probably toxic; it probably means that you are both clinging onto a friendship that should either end or be labelled something else. It probably is the push and pull that has kept you interested, Ona thinks, because she knows that you like the chase. 
However, as much as she’d like to be freed of whatever game she is caught up in, she can’t seem to let you go like that.
… 
The next time Ona and you have a proper conversation about something other than how your love lives have been stunted or how people back home are not as successful as the two of you is when most of the restrictions have been lifted. 
You waited out the pandemic in Vilassar de Mar, much to your annoyance, but now that you can travel again, the first person on your mind to visit is your childhood best friend. You’re not as close as you used to be, having drifted further during even more years apart, but it does not dull your love for her, nor hers for you. 
Ona has changed her mind about Manchester and is forcing herself to like it. It works enough for a visit from you to be the last thing on her mind, and so she slows her response time down until the next arranged date to see each other in person is all set for the summer before the Euros in England.
You’re not quite home but you are in the country, and, with the pre-Euros camp in two days, Ona is spending the final few hours of calm left before the storm in the comforting presence of her mum and dad. 
And… you, apparently. 
“You weren’t supposed to be here yet,” is Ona’s greeting when she opens the front door. 
Your smile is wide and genuine, and you are holding a gift bag in one hand. There is a nice bottle of wine in the other. “Not even an ‘hola’?” When no reply comes, you swallow the emotions that have arisen; the ones that are maybe, just a little bit to do with how soft Ona looks with her hair down. And the slope of her jaw. And the ghosts of defined biceps that bulge even when she isn’t flexing her arms. “I’m dropping by to see your parents. I thought you were in Barcelona with your footballer friends.” 
“You visit my parents?” asks Ona curiously. 
“Of course.” 
With that, you side-step her and call out to her mother, announcing both your arrival and your desire to hand them their gifts. Dinner is just about to be served, and Ona is soon tasked with setting another place at the table for you as though the last ten years had never happened and your friendship hadn’t lost its innocence. 
Maybe it would be better for Ona to not know what it feels like to kiss you, to touch you, to – dare she think it – love you. It would certainly make things less painful, and would have saved her from catching at least one illness and spending a good amount of money on Ubers to escape from random apartments. It would make it easier to listen to you talk about your life in Milan, where you seem to exist in a bubble of incredibly attractive people who are desperate to hold hands and form a raft. 
“Modelling can be brutal,” you agree, nodding at Ona’s father as you follow on from his concerns about your career. He voices them regularly; whenever you see him. Ona realises you have spent a lot of time with her parents without her. “It gets quite competitive between the girls so I’ve been somewhat avoiding them. They’ve brought in someone new, scouted from Germany, I think, and I’m a little worried that I’ll have to switch agencies if they start prioritising her.” You glance at Ona, wanting to know if she is listening, hoping she is. You wish that she were as good at suppressing her feelings as you are. You wish she didn’t look at you like you hung the moon, because you know that you have to tell her you have hung it for someone else. “I’d move tomorrow, to be honest, but I’ve started seeing this guy and he’s convincing me to stay in Milan.” 
“The minute he is your boyfriend, you bring him here,” commands Ona’s mother in a tone she hasn’t yet used on her actual daughter (said daughter has never mentioned anyone before). “Show us a picture of him! Is he a model like you?” 
He is, and if Ona holds her fork tighter after she sees the photo you pull up, that is her business. You secretly take in her clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows, and this might be the worst thing you have ever had to do. To see her so defeated, so hopeless, is upsetting, especially since you are harbouring the same feelings. However, you are able to admit when it is time to throw the towel in, and you can no longer live like this. 
Ona is too perfect for you. She is driven, hard-working, and funny. She likes to nutmeg little children on the street, and she likes to buy them an ice-cream if they slip a goal past her, slotting the flat footballs into imaginary nets and celebrating as though they have just won the Champions League. She knows a lot, more than she thinks she does. She cares about people, but sometimes it manifests in anger, in frustration. 
Any aspect of her is an aspect that you could love, and that is reason enough not to. Because how can you allow yourself to taint such perfection? 
But, in this unspoken rejection, the compliment is obscured from the recipient’s view. All Ona sees when you gush about how he buys you flowers and takes you out to dinner, is a burning, bright question. It flashes red and yellow, both as a warning and cry for attention. How can she compete if you don’t even recognise her as a competitor? 
“--And then they proceeded to finish a film they were halfway through as if it were the most normal thing ever,” Ona rants the minute she hits the concrete of Las Rozas, walking into the facility with Aitana and the other girls who travelled with her from Barcelona. Only the midfielder has been gracious enough to listen to the entire monologue, but the others joke that that is because Ona’s emotional state has led her to spiral in her native language. It is forbidden for them to openly speak Catalan in the Spanish camp, according to Jorge Vilda, who loves to hurl a ‘we can send you back to where you came from in an instant’ their way if he so much as hears a ‘bon dia’. Naturally, Aitana doesn’t give a fuck about the rule, although Ona chooses to believe that she is listening because she cares.
“Are you done?” Aitana asks thoughtfully, sucking on her bottom lip as she tries to absorb her friend’s crisis and formulate a valid, sensible response. The two have known each other for a while now, and Aitana remembers a time when Ona was relentlessly teased by their older teammates for being in love with her best friend. It is clear to her that those feelings never ceased, though she has heard through the grapevine (Leila Ouahabi) that you are now a model and you live somewhere in Italy. You’re part Italian, is what Leila also claims, having professed your ethnicity to a small huddle of fellow gossipers one day in the gym at the Barça training facility. 
“No! Nothing is ever done with her. It’s viscous and it continues in a horrid cycle that has me flapping around in circles like some idiot. I am one of her boys.” Ona groans dramatically, the sound perhaps a little too loud. A few of the girls in front of them turn around to see why a cat seems to have been strangled, but they quickly lose interest when they see it is just Ona and her disastrous situation. “Do you know how fucking humiliating it is to be one of her guys? I am a professional footballer! I play for Manchester United, one of the most historic clubs in the world, and I am about to represent my country in a major tournament. I am successful, Aita, and yet I am still not enough for her.” 
“Maybe she only likes men.” 
“A man has never made her scream like I have,” she bites back. Aitana blushes, but Ona is too far gone in her rage to hear her crudeness nor preserve her friend’s sanity. “She’s been like this since she decided she was gay! Isn’t that hilarious? ‘Ona, I think I’m gay’, she said. I know lesbian breakups can be hard, but there is no way my cousin fucked her up to this extent.” 
“I can’t help you with this, Oni,” Aitana laments, sorry to have to confess this to her friend. “I think you need to talk to her about it. A proper conversation to fix long-term issues, not like the ones you obviously had when agreeing to stop having sex and things like that. Only she knows what she’s thinking.” It is definitely not the advice Ona wants to hear, but she cannot deny the midfielder’s wisdom. “But for now, we focus on winning.” 
You are more than a little confused. 
To start from the beginning, Ona’s cousin fucked you up. She broke your heart, and that first impression of dating girls was incredibly traumatising. With girls, you don’t just kiss and sleep with them, you get close – really close – and then when you break up, it is like you have lost both a girlfriend and a best friend. 
Men are a lot simpler. Men like you and they aren’t shy about it. They can sometimes be just as cruel, but you have never felt invested enough to care too much. 
Some nights, you don’t fall asleep, tossing and turning between your sexual identity, aware that you don’t need to label it but desperate to… discover yourself. If you don’t understand that part of you, how will someone else? How can you be loved? How do you even know who you want to love you? 
For as much as Milan is great, it definitely doesn’t help you with your crisis. Girls in Milan like to do what they want. It is not uncommon for the models to kiss each other in clubs, in front of appreciative male gazes or not, and then reveal their engagement to their future husband the very next day. It’s easy to be drawn into such a bubble, but the minute you step out of it, you are hit with the real world. 
It’s what makes the pandemic so distressing for you personally, because you are forced to live like normal people for some time. Your eyes are held open and the question is shoved down your throat, and it really doesn’t help that Ona’s cousin never moved out of Vilassar de Mar. 
She sees you one day, saying hello from a suitable distance as you pick up milk as per your mother’s request. “I heard you’re modelling?” she asks with no agenda, no seductive glint in her eye. You notice the ring on her finger, and she feels the heaviness of your staring. “Oh, I got married a year ago. Did Ona not tell you?” 
You realise that you and Ona try to avoid talking about anything other than the love interests you have. “No, she didn’t. Congratulations, though. She’s a lucky woman.” 
“You don’t have to pretend you’re happy for me,” laughs the woman opposite you, amused and somewhat apologetic. “Look, I’m really sorry for how I acted when we were younger. I was definitely not the most mature person out there, and I know I hurt you.” 
“I cried for months.” 
“I’m sorry,” she repeats. You suck in a deep breath, trying to hold the memories of your pain at bay. “The first breakup is usually the worst but at least it gets better, as you probably know.” 
She looks at you expectantly, awaiting your confirmation. It never comes. 
“I haven’t dated another girl since,” you tell her, sounding rather detached from yourself. 
Her eyebrows furrow and she is clearly frowning behind her facemask. “What about Ona? I thought you were together when you lived in Madrid. It takes more than a friendship to do what you did.” 
You were originally going to go to university in England. It was your dream, and Ona wasn’t entirely aware of the situation because you hadn’t wanted to tell her you were leaving. Then she was sent out on a professional contract to Madrid, and it wasn’t like you were the only one leaving. 
Ona’s cousin, years ago, had suggested that you go to Madrid if you wanted to get away from Vilassar de Mar. “You’ll be close enough to come home when you’d like, but not so close that you’ll feel as though nothing has changed,” she had said. 
No one had known about your offers in England aside from your parents. And Ona’s cousin, who’d only found out because you had called her, drunk on celebratory champagne, because you had to tell someone. 
“You gave up a dream for her because you didn’t want her to be alone.” 
“I moved to Milan. In the end, she was alone.” 
“You sound like you regret it,” she replies, nodding once at you to bid you farewell and then heading over to a woman who is standing with a puppy in her arms. You watch as she pulls down her mask and kisses her wife, her eyes shining with love and happiness, and your blood runs green with jealousy. 
You hate Ona’s cousin for devastating you once more. 
Do you regret it? 
It’s unclear. 
You try to make sense of it when you don’t hesitate to fly back to Italy the minute you can, going home to lick your wounds at Ona’s non-committal response to meeting you when you are in London the next month. It hurts that she is no longer at your beck-and-call, but you are somewhat happy for her. You know that lines have been crossed and that she has suffered for it. You know that you are probably the one at fault here. 
This time in Milan, you don’t fight it as much. You kiss other girls and let them go home to their boyfriends; you submit to the thing you had convinced yourself you would never become. 
As you drive yourself deeper and deeper into your stereotype, the thought of Ona gets pushed away and newer, more culturally-acceptable fantasies come to mind.
It takes a photoshoot for him to ask you out on a date. 
It takes returning home and gaining the approval of Ona’s parents (who are far more open than your own) for you to agree to be official. 
You don’t ask Ona what she thinks. She’s busy, you reason, because she is representing Spain at the Euros. She won’t care who you are dating and she certainly doesn’t need it rubbed in her face. 
There are many reasons why you go out with him. 
One is that you do like him; he’s nice, he’s funny, he treats you well. (He’s not Ona.) Another is that rent is going up and him sharing the load is helpful. (He’s not Ona.) There is also that he is very popular within the agency, and your chemistry on camera is enough to keep your jobs rolling in and casting directors satisfied. 
He’s not Ona. You know that. 
That's the whole point. 
If he were Ona, you’d be deeply in love with him. If he were Ona, you would never leave the house, never leave his embrace, never leave the little bubble created when it is just the two of you and no one else. If he were Ona, you would be excited about the conversations he gently guides you into; marriage, children, where you are going to live one day. You’d miss him more when he isn’t here. You’d care. 
But you just… don’t. 
Another year passes, more Ona-less than the last, and then she is suddenly coming back home to Barcelona, a medal around her neck and word of a relationship floating above her head. 
You could ask her about it if you wanted to because she is still one of your closest friends, but the truth is, you really, desperately don’t want to hear it. While Ona has been falling in love with someone else, you have been proving your stupid feelings to yourself. 
The act (your current relationship) lowers enough for you to go home for Christmas. You leave Milan as though fleeing from a hurricane, and you refuse to control the damage until you have entered the new year. Your parents aren’t entirely sure they want you moping about the house, confused how someone so successful can revert to a moody teenager the minute they are back in safe territory, and they heavily encourage you to accept an invite that was extended out to you a few months ago. 
Your friends are going skiing in Andorra, and they’d like for you to come with them. 
“Ona won’t be there,” one of them regretfully informs you. “She said she doesn’t want to make things weird. She has a girlfriend – or, I don’t know, a talking stage. She wants you to have fun.” 
“But Ona and I are friends,” you try to explain, feeling exposed by the look of pity she gives you; the same look someone receives when they find out their ex has gotten married or something similar. As a defensive mechanism, you hastily pull out your phone and dial her number. Everyone watches you, now uninterested in their food as you dine and plan your holiday. 
Ona picks up on the third ring, escaping her dinner with Lucy and rushing into the cool, nighttime air of Barcelona. 
“Hi?” she says – asks – with raised eyebrows, wondering if you’re in danger. 
“You’re coming skiing with us, aren’t you?” 
Your friends hide their laughs behind their hands, surprised by how firm your tone is. You do not need it for Ona, because she does anything you say regardless, but they enjoy seeing this side of you. This is someone who has had to fend for herself in a foreign country. 
Removing the phone from her ear for a moment, Ona sighs, disappointed in herself. 
“Yeah, of course. I’ve missed you, you know.” 
Skiing is not something Ona is really allowed to do. As a footballer, her legs are what pay her wage. Career-destroying planks of metal are not the best way to spend the dying embers of the year. She knows that. She does, she swears, but she is so eager to go that Jonatan cannot crush her dreams. He tells her, “if you get injured your contract will be reviewed, Ona Batlle,” and she promises him that it won’t happen. Nothing bad is going to happen. 
It will be the first time she has spent more than a day with her childhood friends, and she is unbelievably excited. 
Lucy finds it adorable and makes it known, helping her pack for her trip, versed in what to bring because her sister skis or something like that (Ona can’t really focus on her almost-girlfriend's monologue). Lucy likes Ona a lot, and it makes her stomach flutter when she thinks about Ona and her friends talking about them. She’s sure her feelings are reciprocated, and she cannot wait for Ona to return to her in the new year, all smiles and lingering hangovers, and ask her to be her girlfriend. Officially. 
Your friends convene in the centre of Vilassar de Mar with two cars between you. There are ten people coming. 
Someone, most-likely trying to keep the peace, instructs Ona into one vehicle and you into the other. The drive isn’t too long, but you suppose that the tension is uncomfortable for those who aren’t accustomed to maintaining a friendship despite the weight of it. 
It’s five days, and you are determined to have fun. 
Ona is naturally good at this, although she claims it is her first time. You, living in Milan, are just as advanced. 
By the third day, the both of you agree that going off together to do some of the harder runs will be harmless. Spending the day together won’t feel like a date or a romantic holiday. Watching Ona glide over the compacted snow won’t be attractive, watching her cocky smirk as she scales the bumps along the side of the piste won’t do anything. 
It won’t. (It does.) 
And it just has to be the third day that someone pulls out two bottles of tequila and a drinking game that is going to ensure every single one of you is off your face by midnight. 
In rooms opposite one another, you and Ona call your respective partners and tell them about how great a time you are having, actively avoiding telling them about who you spent the day with as though it counts as cheating. It doesn’t, technically. Nothing has happened. But, still, it feels intimate and secret; forbidden. 
Then, there is a shout that rings through the house. Everyone comes to the table; the party has begun. 
Ona finds out that she is absolutely terrible at drinking games, and loses in every way possible. 
You find out that she is still just as touchy when she is drunk. 
Your friends try not to comment on it, all having agreed upon yet another passive role in such an irritating situation. Their non-interference almost ceases by the time Ona climbs onto your lap, head turning as she whispers something into your drunk ears, making you laugh privately. In fact, someone has to hold someone else back before they shout at the two of you to make out or break up. 
But it’s not really necessary, their prompting, because it hits a certain hour and… nothing else matters anymore. 
Ona has been touching you the whole night and you have finally reached your limit. 
Boyfriend be damned, you lead her to your bedroom. 
She asks you many times if you still want this, and you cannot think of anything to say other than ‘yes’. 
You’re not as drunk as she is, and you both know that, but everything feels so perfect and right. 
When you wake up the next morning, your anger is more at yourself than the sleeping woman beside you, but she is an outward target for such a boiling emotion and it just makes things easier. 
“Ona.” You shake her awake, not caring for her hangover. “Ona, I can’t believe we’ve done this.” She rubs her eyes, dazed and confused for a moment but coming to her senses soon enough. “I have a boyfriend, Ona, and… I don’t like you like that.” 
It’s not true. 
It’s really, really, really not true, but the fact that you have said it is enough for Ona to leave your room with the intention of never seeing you again. 
She gets the train back to Barcelona, turning up at Lucy’s flat in floods of tears, and barrels straight into those strong arms with the intention of never mentioning what she has done. 
You break up with your boyfriend a month later. Or rather, he breaks up with you, tired of being messed around, tired of your hesitation to fully commit. 
The break-up is not the most upsetting thing you’ve been through, but your ego is a little bruised.
You try to make it look like you are having a great time in Milan, even though the agency has once again discarded your file and overlooked you for shoots you used to book in an instant. You try to seem like things aren’t falling apart, but it’s of no use when your father calls you and tells you that your mother is ill. 
It isn’t cancer but it’s similar, and you know that you need to come home.
You pack your bags and leave without a second thought, because maybe Madrid was far enough. Maybe there is a reason Ona signed for her home club again and most of your friends still live relatively close to their parents. 
Maybe you are not meant to be separated from those you love, because running away is futile if you are always going to end up together again. 
In Barcelona, a modelling agency eagerly draws up a contract with you. Although you are from there, your career being based in Milan previously creates an international allure about you (or so they say), and you are assured that work is going to rush towards you as though someone has just knocked down a dam. 
Your job is secured, your mother begins treatment, but there is something you cannot shake off. 
It hurts to think of Ona, to think of how you left things, but it helps, too. Seeing her face in your mind is comforting. You hear her voice as you drift off to sleep, and you let it soothe you in your dreams. 
“Ona has a girlfriend,” her mother tells you when you next visit them. Her frown is unexpected because all she has ever wanted is for her children to be happy and loved. “It’s not right, it doesn’t feel right.” You begin to shrug your shoulders and crawl into your shell, but she interrupts your thought process; “I think you should go see her.” 
“Why?” 
The woman rolls her eyes. “Just do what I say.” 
You nod because she is so scarily sure about it, and you… It’s hard to believe, but you call Ona. 
She picks up. 
“I was sorry to hear about your mum.” 
“Don’t worry. She’s fine.” 
“Are you back at home?” 
“Yeah, I am.” You pause. “Well, not quite. I’m living in Barcelona.” 
Something fizzes in the air; pops, crackles. 
“Need me to show you around the city?” 
And it’s Ona, so how could you say no? 
Your visit goes very well. 
She takes you out to dinner and shows you around her neighbourhood. She introduces you when she runs into people she knows, and she is insistent about dragging you to her football match on the weekend. 
Everything is seemingly forgiven and Ona is intent on integrating you back into her life. 
She wants you to feel at home, though she knows you should already, and she wants to lessen the stress of hospital appointments and death and, if not death, then a difficult recovery. 
You are sitting in her apartment – now devoid of all signs of Lucy – on her comfortable sofa, watching something together after a day of walking around and sealing up the cracks that formed in Andorra.
Sitting leads into cuddling and then into wandering hands that eagerly roam underneath layers of fabric.   
Ona’s breath hitches as you brush the hard lines of her abs, your hands particularly drawn to them and just how strong she has become. “You must have only felt them on men,” she offers as an explanation. “How many have you slept with in comparison to–?”
And your hands stop.
“Sorry,” Ona mumbles, seemingly upset at her outburst. “I’m just curious. I can’t work you out.” She can’t quite look you in the eye, mainly due to the logistics of your position, but she isn’t sure she wants to see the truth attached to her statement. 
You question if that’s a good thing, the fact she needs to ask; the fact that she has no choice but to communicate. It was going to happen sooner or later. “A few,” is what you settle on. Ona leaves it at that, carefully pulling the hair tie from your plait, unravelling it with one hand as the other rests against your stomach in an embrace. You smile. “You’re not going to ask who?” 
Her fingers stop for a moment. “No.” She speaks so quietly, her voice almost a whisper in your ear. “I don’t care about them.” You relax into her more, feeling her against your back, feeling the softness of the blanket against your feet as it hangs at the edge of the sofa. 
“Who do you care about, then?” 
“You.” 
Carefully, both her hands hold your hips and she sits you up, smiling as she does. You tell her she’s showing off, she replies that you are always showing off. To that, you brush those hands from your sides and lean down to kiss her, more decidedly for once; more in control. It’s a surprising feeling for both of you, the forcefulness. Urgency. Not unfamiliar, but unexpected for this time on this day. 
The last time you kissed Ona, you had a boyfriend. 
Your mouth goes to her neck as soon as she decides that she wants her hands back on your hips, pushing you down into her lap. It’s now a competition, you think. She’s quickly coming completely undone by your kissing and biting, but you are not ignoring the feeling as she makes you grind down, makes you need that friction. “Fuck,” you moan in her ear. She grips you tighter. 
You start to pull off her shirt having had enough of the grey between you, asking if it’s okay, if she’s sure she isn’t too tired. Her reply is, “take it off, god,” and then the removal of your clothes that get thrown just shy of the wine glasses set out on her coffee table. Leggings aren’t the most practical for impromptu sex, but she’s quick and smooth and someone who has definitely done that before. 
With your bare chest on display and almost nothing between Ona and you, she lifts you up for a moment with the intention of flipping the two of you, getting you on your back. You pause for a moment, trying to decide if she’s doing it because she wants to or because she thinks that’s the only way to do it, but her hands are moving now, up your sides, round the front of your chest and you relax. She laughs quietly, amused, because the tension dissipates, dissolving like sweet, sweet sugar in hot coffee as soon as your legs wrap around her back. 
Ona asks before she does it, picking you up and laying you back down without needing to part her lips from your own. You watch her as she sits up, body in between your thighs. “You’re going to just stay there?” She shakes her head. “I can top,” you tease, a stark contrast from how it was the last time you did this. Ona doesn’t like being told she can’t do something. However indirectly. 
“Yeah?” You nod, biting the smirk out of your lips. “I don’t care.” 
You are in the process of rolling your eyes when her cocky mouth is put to good use. Your underwear was taken off at some point earlier — you hadn’t realised. Ona’s head moves between your legs, up and down, your hand that isn’t holding onto the sofa in her hair, the soft waves lacing between your fingers. 
She’s good at it; thorough, practised. Her tongue circles your clit for a moment before dipping into your entrance. Something about the cockiness of her movements, her tongue, her hand rubbing between her own legs, makes everything more surreal, more blissful. She moans softly, lips kissing their way up your body, hands no longer focused on herself. Instead, they take the place of her mouth, two fingers inside you as quickly as it takes for her to ask if you are okay to carry on. Your reply (“yes”) is cut off quickly by her mouth on yours, tongue swiping at your bottom lip in another question of permission. You can taste yourself on her. 
At her command, you sit up, letting her pull you back onto her lap as she sucks at your neck. “Don’t leave any marks,” you warn as her teeth pull a whimper from your supposed stoicness. “I don’t want the makeup artists asking questions.” It comes out too late, because you feel her teeth graze your collarbone quickly, not painful, no, but something that feels so, so good. “Ona.” She sighs in disappointment and adjusts where you are in her lap, so your legs are either side of her thigh. 
You find yourself rocking slowly, letting her savour your breasts between her hands and her mouth. She whispers that she wants to see you come, that you don’t need to hold back – not with her, not ever – so you start grinding down, harder, faster. Her hands drop back to your hips, guiding your movements, forcing you to slow down when she feels everything building up. Each time, you let out a “fuck” and attempt to go against her grip to get that friction. “Not just yet,” she mutters, no longer touching you anywhere other than where her hands meet your hips and her thigh presses between your legs. 
“Fuck off, Ona,” you breathe, frustrated. “When, then?” 
She slows the pace even more. “Can you last a little longer?” You look at her face, brushing away the strands of hair that have fallen over her eyes, ghosting your fingers along her cheek, running your thumb along her lips. She smiles again, eyes creasing slightly. 
As her hands drop to cup your face, you say, “you’re beautiful.” 
Ona blushes. 
You look down at her exposed cleavage, nipples pebbled against the sports bra that is unusually low-cut. It might border on intense staring as you begin to grind against her with the intention of actually getting off now. She laughs, saying her eyes are higher up than that, but going back to her trail of kisses along your jaw nevertheless. 
For what seems like longer than a few seconds, the build up finally stops, the tower toppling over in a rush of pleasure. Ona’s hands move your hips as your head drops to rest on her shoulder. She talks you through it, telling you that you look so pretty, telling you that she’s so turned on. 
And that’s when she whispers it. 
It has taken years to get to this moment, many of them filled with unnecessary suffering. 
It has taken years but it does not matter. 
Ona tells you that she loves you and that is when you have finally come home. 
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icedmintteastuff · 11 months ago
Text
husband!wriothesley hcs
happy new year!! just making a husband!wriothesley for the new year, sorry for the wrong grammar :/ enjoy!!
warning: wrong grammar, ooc, slightly suggestive at the end.
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you work at the court of fontaine, you are in charge in gathering information in investigation. you met wriothesley when clorinde mentioned you to him when they were investigating a case. you always claimed that the information came from the offender itself in every 'gossip' you tell her.
wriothesley then asked clorinde to invite you to the fortress for some tea, he knew the you work at the court of fontaine but he has never met you personally, even when he gets summoned for official matters.
the day of your visit came by he rizzed you with his tea asked for the information about the suspect(s) they're investigating. he found you funny and interesting whenever you're giving them information, since you're doing it like you're giving them the latest gossip that is going around, except you have the knowledge before the steambird did.
this routine kept going on with clorinde accompanying you to the fortress, clorinde noticed the way wriothesley looks at you as the time progresses, she then became overprotective of you space and privacy since the duke was getting a little bit too close to you.
clorinde then lowered her guard when you told her you developed feelings for the duke, she would help wriothesley every now and then in courting you, which he appreciates. he proposed to you on the same day you guys first met when both of you have a picnic under the warm sun.
you had a small wedding with your family and friends,and neuvillette being the wedding officiant and warning wriothesley to take care of you. later on, you would move in the fortress with wriothesley, however you have to go to the overworld for work, which wriothesley didn't mind, and you would return to the fortress at night with souvenirs for your husband and sigewinne.
there are times that you would roam around the fortress without your husband, and interacting with the prisoners, which you are not worried in the slightest bit. you know your husband watches you in the shadows and follows you around the fortress so that you can be safe.
husband!wriothesley loves the way you casually tell him other people's business as if you're just gossiping to him. plus, he sees this as a free information from the overworld.
"you know there's this guy who bragged about sleeping with a woman, but he robbed her when she was sleeping, he was bold enough to brag about it"
"if you're wondering why im getting a lot of letters lately, its my friend, they've been on and off with their relationship, i just told them to break up with their partner"
"remember the actress i told you about from before? yeah, she almost committed adultery because the guy she's currently going out was already married"
husband!wriothesley may not show affection to you publicly, but behind closed doors he immediately turns into a dog begging for head/chin scratches and belly rubs.
husband!wriothesley loves it whenever you sit on his lap, facing him, with your head on his shoulder, sleeping. there are times that he would fall asleep along with you since your slow breathing and soft snoring lulled him to sleep. if he's not asleep he would press kisses on your lips which he would chuckle whenever you scrunch your nose.
husband!wriothesley who thought about having kids with you, but decided not to have one yet since both of you are not ready for one. for now, you guys have sigewinne and the melusines.
husband!wriothesley who looks at you in disbelief after finding out that you help sigewinne and the melusines put stickers all over him and his belongings.
"you're my wife yet your betraying me like this??"
"sorry about that, you look good in glitter though" you giggled at him
"flattery will get you nowhere, dear" you chuckle, knowing he wasn't mad at you. not that he would get mad at you anyway
"aww, is my husband upset with me?" you coo, striding towards him "how will i ever make it up to him?" you put one arm behind his neck, with your free hand caressing his cheeks.
husband!wriothesley who secretly enjoys your mischievous side, even if you give him headaches with your shenanigans, he's still willing to clean up your mess.
"what did you do this time??" he asked you sternly to which you didn't respond, only looking away pouting and tapping the tip of your feet. the two guards behind you starts to sweat at your lack of response, afraid that you angered the duke.
your husband sighs and dismissed the two guards. your husband looks at you as the guards exit, "that's it. you're getting punished" he suddenly stride towards you and threw you on his shoulder. you let out a yelp and started to kick you feet.
you stopped kicking when you felt a smack on your ass, "behave yourself." "im sorry!!" "don't worry dear, i'll know it when i hear it"
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