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yandere-daydreams · 10 months

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Title: Sacrifical Bride.

Commissioned by the very lovely @yanmaresu.

Pairing: Yandere!Hades x Reader (Record of Ragnarök).

Word Count: 3.0k.

TW: Fem!Reader, Non/Con, Forced Marriage, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Emotional Manipulation, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, and Mentions of Kidnapping/Prolonged Captivity. Not Canon Complacent. I Have Never Met Canon But I Hear She's Very Nice.

The wedding was a solemn affair.

Not dull, because nothing that had your heart beating so violently could ever be considered ‘dull’, and not dreary, because despite the many, many things you could say about your kidnapper-turned-husband, he wasn’t one for bland affairs. No, your dress was of the finest and most vibrant silks, your veil lined with pearls and rubies and the gown’s train long enough to swell and ebb behind you as you walked down the seemingly never-ending aisle, unaccompanied by any escort. Wreaths of shining ivory lilies and blooming chrysanthemums encircled marble pillars, low-burning lanterns casting the chapel in long, wavering shadows. The pews were empty. The only guests were his ghastly servants, and they’d never once said a word to you.

There was no officiant. Hades waited for you at the brimstone altar alone, a gentle simper playing over his lips as he watched you drag your feet and fight the urge to bolt, to run, to do the very thing that’d left you trapped in his arm in the first place. It was tempting, albeit pointless. You’d always been swift footed, but there was nowhere to escape to in Helheim. At best, you’d spend a few days hiding and struggling to survive in the empty plains that surrounded his looming fortress of a home. At worst, you’d find yourself without direction and beyond the reach of his control, hopelessly lost and stumbling through fields of fading dead and gnarled beasts and things that would make the man in front of you look hospitable, in comparison. You tried to remind yourself of that as your body begged you to flee.

As you reached the altar, his smile grew into something that could’ve been convincingly genuine, had it been able to reach the pits of lifeless ice that were his eyes. Rather, the gesture only seemed to add to the coil of dread growing tighter in the pit of your stomach as you stepped beside him, clutching your bouquet to your chest in a white-knuckled grip. He’d let you pick that out yourself, at least, and you’d taken a truly irrational amount of joy in picking wildflowers and trimming roses and breaking every rule of decorum your mother had ever taught you. Now, though, the shadows of his hall seemed to dull your vision-searing colors, and it was difficult to take joy in such a simple pleasure knowing the man in front of you sought to ensure you’d never braid daisies or sleep beneath open skies again, when he was staring you down like yet another precious gem he planned to add to his ever-growing collection. It was a cruel comparison, but not quite as hyperbolic as you would’ve liked.

There was a shallow sigh, a hand brought to the edge of your veil. He toyed with the fabric for a long moment before taking the hem in both hands and pulling it away from your face. If he recognized the terror stitched into your expression, he only deemed it worth a slight shake of his head. “Oh, beloved.” His hand fell to your cheek. “You’re as radiant as the day we met.”

The day he plucked you from your mortal life and dragged you into the depths of the earth, the day he’d forced the awful seeds of that terrible fruit down your throat and promised you would never see another living soul again. You swallowed back your nerves. “Please, don’t draw this out.”

You were lucky you’d fallen into the hands of such a mild-tempered captor. He let out an airy chuckle, turning back to the altar. It was decorated sparsely; an overflowing cornucopia posed in one corner, a standing thurible slowly releasing nauseatingly sweet incense into the stagnant air sitting in the other. Between them was only a bottle of dark wine and two twin chalices, crafted of only the finest bronze and polished until they shined in the low lighting. He filled both to the brim before looking towards you, a glint in his remaining eye as he took a chalice in either hand.

You’d been wrong when you assumed they were identical. Where one had a line of aimless, curling thorns following the rim and plunging down the length of the handle, the other was embellished with roses, abstract and nearly shapeless, forming neat columns across the body of the cup. He extended the latter to you, its contents threatening to spill as you took it in your trembling hands. You’d managed to talk him out of the more elaborate ceremonies he’d suggested, but it was difficult to remember that this was a preferable alternative now that could feel the chill of his wine seeping into your palms.

You brought it to your lips, held it there for a moment, then pulled back at the hint of a more familiar scent than that of his dizzying incense. “Pomegranates?”

“I thought it would be a nice touch.” For him, maybe. He’d always struggled to see things from your perspective. “Forgive my sentimentality.”

You wouldn’t, but you were smart enough to keep that to yourself. When he raised his chalice, you did the same, mirroring him when your own will failed you. “To us, darling.”

You nodded. “To us.”

He took a long sip from his chalice, seeming to savor the rich wine, while you drained yours in a single breath. Try as you might to enjoy it, you could only seem to taste ash.

A few vows were exchanged, a kiss pressed into the back of your hand when you flinched away from his attempt to communicate his affection more directly. Finally, he took your arm and guided you back to your shared chambers, lingering in the doorway while you collapsed onto his bed – your marital bed, now, you supposed. You buried your face in the silken sheets, letting out a soft groan. There would be a celebration later on, a feast with all of his many gloating brothers and prying sisters in attendance, but the worst of it was over. You were bound to him, for better or for worse. All you could do was weather the consequences.

You’d hoped he would be kind enough to leave you alone while you consoled yourself, while you took all that you knew and all that you didn’t and recontextualized it with yourself as the mortal bride to the God of Death, but a hand on your shoulder dispelled that fleeting fantasy. With no small amount of reluctance, you pushed yourself upward and turned your attention back to Hades. This time, without the pretense of custom, he didn’t settle for your hand. His mouth found its way to the dip of your shoulder, then the crook of your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin as he pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses into his chosen targets.

When he started to move towards the curve of your throat, you moved on instinct – your hands finding their way to his hair as you dragged him away from you before he could do anything you wouldn’t be able to forget as soon as he left the room. “Please,” you said, not for the first time that day. “I… I’d rather be alone, right now. If it’s all the same to you.”

His smile didn’t waver. “You know that, if it were up to me, I would bend to your every whim,” he spaced the words out generously, as if worried your feeble human mind might not be able to understand. “But we aren’t done.”

Your expression fell. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me. I wore the dress, and—and I took your vows, and—”

“My love,” he cut you off swiftly, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek. “Our union will have to be consummated, eventually.”

You felt your throat begin to swell shut.

“I know that, but—” You laid your hand over his, trying to call upon whatever pale imitation of sympathy might’ve existed in his heart. “—does it have to be consummated now?”

You watched as his gaze softened, as his head lulled to the side in that endeared-yet-condescending manner he seemed so fond of. Slowly, with a painstaking gentleness, he brought you closer to him, ghosting over the top of your head and lingering there, even as he started to speak. “I think,” he started, his voice muffled by proximity. “that it would be in your best interest not to keep me waiting any longer.”

It wasn’t a threat, but it was posed like one, dredged up from somewhere deep in his chest and accompanied by his hand on your waist, nimble fingers slipping underneath the sash binding your gown together. When you jerked back, reflexively trying to escape his advances, he was quick to chase you, to let his softened smile spread into an amused grin as an arm wrapped around your midriff and dragged you, willingly or otherwise, into his lap. “I don’t want to hurt you.” And yet, your safety didn’t seem to cross his mind as his blunt nails bit into your waist, as he dragged you close enough to feel his chest press into yours, to become uncomfortably aware of the stiff outline against the loose fabric of his pants. “If I rely on my own self-restraint for another day—” Another kiss, this one to the tender patch of skin above your jugular vein. “I’m afraid I might end up doing something we both regret, when the time comes.”

“Less than a day,” you pleaded as he buried his face in your neck. There was a blur of movement, the ghost of his touch along the curve of your spine, and your bodice fell away in tatters, the ruined fabric collapsing to your waist. When you moved to cover yourself, Hades clicked his tongue and you froze, letting your arms fall back to your sides. Begging him to change his mind was one thing. Going against him so transparently would only make things more difficult. “Half a day. An hour. I just— Hades, I can’t do this right now—”

“My love.” Swift, blunt, merciless. You’d been a fool to ever think he was one of the kinder gods. “I think I’ve waited long enough to claim what belongs to me.”

Any protest you might’ve had died in your throat.

You’d been a fool to ever think he was anything less than the cruelest of his kin.

You wanted to scream. If you couldn’t run, then you would yell, raise your voice and tell him that he already had you, that he’d gotten everything he could’ve possibly wanted, but anything you might’ve said was torn away and ripped to shreds as his head dipped low, his teeth latching onto the vulnerable skin of you collar bone and sinking in. He didn’t draw blood, but he didn’t have to. A bolt of pure, stinging agony shot from your chest to your core, only dulling as he pulled away with a low groan. “Have I ever told you how much I adore the sound of my name on your tongue?” You felt his hand on your hip, then your thigh, the remains of your dress cut through and disposed of with little fanfare. He gave your bridal lingerie (pure white and so obnoxiously lacy, you’d had to wonder if this was all some sadistic joke as you slipped it on) more attention, his thumb running along the delicate trim before his fingers slipped underneath it, tracing the length of your slit before doing away with the barrier altogether.

Dread and panic dulled your reactions, but it would’ve been a lie to say the feeling of his mouth on your skin had left you completely unaffected. He chuckled as he gathered your slick on his fingertips, two of which were soon pressed into your clit with a brutal sort of precision. “And you tried to play coy.” He teased the sensitive bundle of nerves mercilessly, the patterns he traced into your clit too slow and too fleeting all at once. You wished he wouldn’t touch you at all, but if he was going to, it was the least he could’ve done not to draw it out. “That must’ve been why you seemed so rushed during our ceremony. If you’d asked me to make love to you on that altar, I happily would have.”

Hot, humiliated tears welled up in the corners of your eyes. You attempted to deny it, but a cracked moan slipped past your lips instead as two of his fingers were forced into your cunt and spread, splitting you apart. Your hands shot to his shoulders, trying to stabilize yourself, but he only saw your desperation as an invitation – bowing his head and pumping his fingers into you at the kind of languid pace that left you fighting not to rock against him, not to make up for the urgency immortal creatures so often lacked. “You’re a vice,” he muttered, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, his tone low and lecherous. You wondered, briefly, if words that fell from the lips of a god could be considered sinful. “To think my own wife would’ve had me neglect her so severely for so long.”

You shook your head. You were married to him, sure, bound to him. But you couldn’t afford to think of yourself as his wife. You couldn’t afford to think of yourself as something so limited, something so purely an extension of him. “I’m not—”

“Don’t try to spare my feelings. I can see that I underestimated just how much attention my little mortal would need.” His wrist quirked, another digit pushing past your entrance and stuffing your pussy full as his fingers curled and ground inside of you. Against your will, you felt a tight heat begin to twist and writhe in the pit of your stomach, pangs of burning pleasure coursing from your cunt to your core. Now, you cried unabashedly, embarrassment and shame burning in your cheeks and fueling the unsteady stream of tears that Hades was so agonizingly quick to coo over, to kiss away as your hips bucked unsteadily against his hand. “What a sensitive wife I have.” That word – that awful word – was enough to earn a ragged sob, but if he recognized the connection, he didn’t deem it worth his concern. “I promise, you’ll never feel so unloved in my care again.”

You would’ve given anything to be able to pull away from him, to be able to shove at his chest and swear to all the gods you’d once worshiped that there was no part of you that could ever feel loved with him, but in the end, he was the one to let you go, to throw you onto the center of his great bed and leave you whining involuntarily at the sudden loss of stimulation. He’d never been one to deprive you, though; in a moment, he was in between your open legs, one hand wrapped loosely around your thigh while the other pulled feverishly at his own clothes. His coat fell away first, then his shirt. You heard fabric shift and metal clink and, in a daze, saw him wrap his fist around something he could not have possibly planned to fit inside of you. Half out of terror and half out of instinct, your gaze flickered from his cock to his face – to the wide, fanged grin he’d been wearing for as long as you could remember.

He moved to kiss you, and you drove your heel into his stomach.

The blow would’ve been weak by human standards, but it caught him off-guard. Out of reflex, he reeled back, and you took the opportunity to scramble off his bed and towards the door, to any part of this forsaken place where Hades wasn’t. You made it a step, maybe two before something caught your shoulder, before your body buckled under a weight greater than your own. You were dragged onto your knees before you could so much as think to slip away from him, your cheek forced against the cool marble of the floor before you could hope to make your descent more dignified. You felt his broad chest press into your back, his snarling lips against the curve of your throat. You wondered if the insult would be great enough to warrant taking your life, but the thought was dismissed quickly.

Hades had never been the kind of god capable of showing such mercy.

“I would’ve made love to you like a queen,” he spat, his tone all manic venom and overdue obsession. “But, if you’d rather be fucked on the ground like a whore, I’m more than happy to oblige.”

You weren’t allowed the luxury of bracing yourself, this time. In one brutal movement, he thrust into you, splitting you open on his cock with the kind of harsh, unforgiving force better suited to a wild animal. There was no time to adjust, no time to sob, only Hades groaning against your neck as he bucked against you, never daring to pull out completely. Whatever agony his fingers had sparked was now ten-fold. Your legs shook, your body threatening to collapse entirely, but Hades kept your ass raised and your thighs spread, his focus entirely on bucking into you as deeply and as roughly as he could.

It almost surprised you when one of his hands shot to your head, his fingers tangling themselves in your hair as he forced his mouth against yours. You tried not to cooperate, but two fingers pressed into your clit and your mouth fell open in a guttural cry, providing an opening he seemed content to take advantage of. It was a deep, lingering, messything – all tongue and teeth – but his cock ground against something soft and vulnerable and you failed to suppress the wave of pure heat that flooded through your battered body as you clenched around him, as you came undone around the cock of your kidnapper, your captor, your husband. Hades wasn’t far behind, his composure shattering no more than a second after the walls of your cunt clenched down around him. You could only choke on your misery-tinged pleasure as his hips pressed into your ass and he came inside of you – his awful warmth soon tainting every fiber of your being.

You tried to tell yourself that, at the very least, it was over - that he’d had his fill of you and now, you’d be free to console yourself elsewhere, but your hopes were once again dashed when Hades failed to release you, failed to pull out of you, failed to do anything but press himself into your back and trail his lips idly down to the nape of your neck. “Once is a pitiful amount for a king. Don’t you agree?”

You felt his hips move back, then rock against you just as quickly.

“You can forgive me when we’re done, love.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok imagines #record of ragnarok x reader #hades x reader #yandere hades #yaanderecore #yancore

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heart-of-the-morningstar · 6 months

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✨Dress Up, Part 2: The Ceremony✨

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

*** - Scene change ~~~ - Flashback

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4

Lucifer x f!sinner reader

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Charlie turned and repeated the question to you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alright then.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Five minutes?"

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

"Four."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer smut #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut #my writing #holy hell i just couldn't stop!#i think i beat my word count again haha #5100 WORDS LET'S GOOOO!!

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 year

Text

Honey Girl. Chapter Three.

Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Four. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight. Chapter Nine. Chapter Ten. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Chapter Synopsis - You and Bucky get closer. Your choice only gets harder.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au.

Word Count - 6.4k

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - smut. cursing. angst. alcohol consumption.

Author's Note - angels, i can only apologise for the wait!! i've had some stuff going on, and i was on vacation, so this has taken a while. thank you so much for your patience, kindness and support on Honey Girl - it means everything.

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3 please, send me your thoughts, predictions, desires!! i will get excited with you!!

Masterlist. Inbox.

The sunlight seeps through the stained glass windows, murmured chatter echoing off the stone walls around you.

You smooth down your dress and adjust your bracelet, smiling at the rare sight of your family and friends all gathered together in one place. Your parents are sat on either side of you, all of you eagerly awaiting the beginning of this exciting occasion.

Man, you love weddings. You always have. So much happiness and joy in one short day, everyone excited about the possibility of eternal love.

You're still sat waiting when you realise, with quiet uncertainty, that you're not sure whose wedding this is. All of your family is here, as well as many of your friends. So why do you feel so confused all of a sudden?

The Priest gestures for all of the guests to stand just as the first notes of the Wedding March begin to reverberate around the room. You turn around, craning your neck to try and get a glimpse of the bride.

You don't know her, but she's... beautiful. Long, dark hair falling in waves over her shoulders, white silk dress hugging her frame perfectly, accentuating every dip and curve. She has kind eyes, warm and brown, and a blinding smile that's infectious and dazzling. Her skin glows in the stained glass sunlight, illuminating her in an ethereal radiance. She has a beauty that belongs on the cover of a magazine, or on the ceilings of the Sistine Chapel.

You eagerly turn back towards the altar to find out who her lucky groom is. He has his back to you, dark suit stretched across his broad shoulders. He turns, and you can't help the gasp that escapes your lips.

It's Bucky.

You're panicking, suddenly. You want to scream, shout, run over to them and object in any way possible. Your Mom grabs your hand tightly from one side, as your Dad does the same on the other.

"Mama, I have to-"

"You can't, sweetheart. It's not fair."

"You made your choice," your Dad says kindly, not an ounce of malice in his voice. "Now you have to let him make his."

White hot tears drip down your cheeks as your chest rises and falls with frantic frustration. This isn't how you wanted things to go. This wasn't supposed to happen.

The lights in the church are suddenly too bright, the wooden pews too hard. There's an incessant knocking noise coming from somewhere in front of you, loud and overwhelming. You swear someone's shouting your name in the distance, among all of the chaos.

"Honey? It's Bucky. Are you okay?"

Why is he asking if you're okay? Of course you're not okay, you're in this living nightmare.

Nightmare.

You're having a nightmare.

You wake with a startled gasp, cheeks wet and warm, sweat dripping down your back. The knocking hasn't stopped, in fact, now it's even louder.

"Sugar? Are you in there? Can you let me in?"

It's Bucky. Bucky's here.

You throw yourself out of bed and race through your apartment, swinging open the door. Bucky is stood on the other side, still in his navy plaid pyjama pants, sweater thrown over himself haphazardly. You look down at yourself and see that you're only wearing an old t shirt, legs bare and feet cold on the wooden floor.

"Are you okay?" he asks gently, stepping forward into your space. "I had this horrible feeling. It was like... like I was panicking. I knew it wasn't me so I figured it must have been you. What's wrong, sweets?"

He snakes his fingers around your wrist and pulls you into him gently, wrapping his arms around you completely. You relax into his embrace, inhaling the warm, cosy scent of him. All the fear leaves your body, and you cling to him tighter, worried that he'll disappear any minute.

"I had a nightmare," you whisper into the soft cotton of his chest.

He pulls back to look at you, large, calloused hands cradling your tear stained cheeks.

"You wanna talk about it?"

You deliberate for a second before shaking your head softly.

"If you change your mind, you know I'll always listen to you. Any time. I mean it."

"I know," you say quietly. "Thank you."

You step away from him and towards the couch, where you curl up with your legs tucked underneath you. Bucky walks over to the kitchen, filling the kettle and placing it on the stove. He makes two mugs of tea, handing one into your outstretched hands carefully. He shuffles to sit next to you, pressed into your side, arm slung around your shoulders. You relax into the broadness of him, the comfort he brings, the safety. The two of you fall asleep intertwined, warm and content, wrapped completely in each other and the blanket of your love.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You're both startled awake by a phone ringing. The unwelcome melody is coming from somewhere between where you're nestled together, limbs intertwined and bodies connected.

"It's-fuck- is that mine or yours?" Bucky's mumbling as he scrambles amongst the couch cushions.

"Yours, I think," you reply, finding your phone on the floor where you've kicked it in your sleep.

Bucky finally finds the source of the noise, trapped in the arm of the couch. He presses the green button reluctantly, still disorientated from being woken so suddenly.

"Hello?"

That deep, raspy grumble of his morning voice is enough to make you melt back into your original position, the tone golden and honeyed. You slide back towards him and tuck yourself into his side, the two of you fitting together perfectly.

You can hear muffled talking on the other end, which takes Bucky a minute to comprehend. When he does, his eyes widen, and he looks at you like a deer caught in headlights.

It's your Dad, he mouths silently, muscles in his body going rigid.

Fuck, you mouth back, praying that he can't hear the two sets of heaving lungs on your side of the line.

"Yeah, of course. I'll be there. Sounds good, man. See you then."

Bucky's about to hang up the phone, when your Dad makes a noise of complaint. You can hear your Mom yelling something at him in the background.

"They're coming here," he whispers to you as quietly as possible, covering the phone speaker. "Fuck, what do we do?"

"Tell them you're already here... borrowing something. Or giving something back."

You shoot him a look that says trust me. Trust you, he does.

"I'm with her right now. I can ask, if you want? Yeah, just dropping off a couple of tools - last time I saw her, she mentioned a few loose screws in one of the kitchen cabinets. Easy fix."

You can hear your Dad singing his praises and expressing his gratitude, and your Mom asking Bucky to put you on the phone. He passes it to you carefully, as if it's a bomb, bound to explode at any given second.

"Hi, Mama."

"Hey, sweetheart. Bucky get everything sorted for you?"

"Oh, yeah. He's been great. Fixed it in two minutes flat. I just didn't have the right kind of screwdriver."

"He's one of the good ones, huh?" she chuckles. "We called to tell you that you have to come to our get together later. I know it's a little impromptu, but we have so much produce from the garden, too much for just us. We'll have dinner in the backyard, and drinks, and play some games. And we'll tell you all about the wedding!"

Your Mother has a gift for hosting. She's a people person through and through, warm hearted and kind spirited in nature. She loves having people over at the house, loves cooking for them, loves choosing wine pairings for her dishes and explaining each one carefully. It's a gift. She's a gift.

"I'd love to come, Mama. Do you want me to bring anything? I can make desserts?"

"Oh, darling, would you? I'm making a strawberry and cream tart, but you know it's nothing compared to your talent."

"Oh hush," you chide playfully. "I'll see what I can conjure up. Maybe I'll even rope Bucky in to help."

You wink at him cheekily and he laughs, the sound settling gently in your ribs like a caged bird singing it's morning song.

"Glad to be of service!" he yells into the phone, his right hand moving to rest at the nape of your neck. He massages the muscle there gently, and the tension leaves your body just as quick as it arrived.

"What time, Mama?"

"Everyone's arriving at seven o'clock, but you and Bucky feel free to come any time. Did you hear that, Bucky? Any time!"

"Loud and clear," he chuckles. "See you soon, Lori."

"Bye, you two. Call if you need anything. Love you, sweetheart."

"Love you too."

She hangs up the phone and you're plunged into silence, the two of you panting like you've just ran a marathon.

"Fuck," Bucky breathes.

"Yeah, fuck," you exhale. "Now my parents think I'm not capable of fixing a loose screw."

"It was the first thing I thought of! Sorry, honey. Didn't mean to undermine your DIY skills."

You fake angry, but you can't keep it up while he's looking at you like you hung the moon just for him. The corners of your lips twitch, and before you know it, you're grinning at each other like idiots.

"Now I have to make dessert," you laugh. "There go my plans for the day."

"You offered."

"I panicked!"

"I'll give you a hand, if you need it. I don't have to be at work for another hour and a half."

"It's okay," you reassure, reaching out to link your fingers with his. He's still absentmindedly tracing patterns across the back of your neck, the sensation almost soothing you back to sleep.

You relax into Bucky, and he pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you. He's so warm, and soft, and broad. You realise that there's been two occasions recently where you've slept like the dead. Both were in Bucky's arms.

"You wanna help me make breakfast?" you whisper, careful not to disrupt the golden glow of the morning sunlight. The orange hue of the room feels fragile, sacred even. You don't want to ruin it.

"Of course. I can't bake, but I can cook. I have my uses."

"That, you do," you tease, leaning back into him as he places a tender kiss on top of your head. If you could bottle up this feeling of complete tranquility, you would. For a moment, everything else disappears. It's just you and your soulmate. Nothing else matters.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Bucky, as it turns out, is a decent chef.

Sure, he's not Michelin star level, but neither are you.

You're sat on the counter, bare legs dangling over the side as you watch him move around your kitchen with ease, as if it's his own. You can't help but notice the way he belongs here. Like he's been here all along.

Bucky leaves everything cooking on the stove to come to stand in between your legs, warm hands splayed across your thighs. He rubs comforting circles into your skin while his steely blue eyes look at you intently.

"You okay?"

You smile at him softly, draping your arms around his neck to play with his hair.

"I'm fine."

You're not fine. The words California and Bakery and Dream Job and Bucky keep circling around your mind like horses on a fairground carousel. The more time you spend with Bucky, the more your Tethering makes sense. The two of you work. This connection you have is made of threads of gold, braided into both of your souls.

"You've been quiet all morning. And... I can feel it, you know. This anxious, sinking feeling, deep in my chest. There's something really bothering you, honey."

You take a deep breath and grasp onto his shoulders tightly, grounding yourself back down to Earth.

"I'm okay. There's just a couple of things I need to work out, and I think they're giving me some anxiety. I'm just stressed, I think."

"Are you trying to convince yourself, or me? Because you're not doing a very good job of either."

He's only teasing, but the way he's looking at you makes your breath hitch. It's as if everytime he looks into your eyes, he's also looking into your soul. It's like he can read your mind. Your heart is covered in braille and he's running his fingertips over it gently. You suddenly feel very exposed, shrinking down into yourself on the counter.

"Hey, pretty girl. Look at me. Please."

He uses his finger and thumb to tilt your face towards him, holding onto your chin gently.

"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to push you, or anything. I'm just worried. It's weird, being able to feel what you feel. I think I'm still getting used to it."

You smile at him carefully, running your fingers over the stubble on his cheeks.

"I appreciate you looking out for me, Buck. It's just... overwhelming, I guess. Nothing's a secret between me and you anymore."

You both know that's not true.

"You know, if there's anyone who understands how you feel... it's me."

"You're right," you laugh, "on account of the whole half-of-my-soul thing, I guess."

"Exactly. It's scary, but you're not alone in this. The two of us will figure it out. I know we will."

He has so much faith in you it makes you want to cry.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer to you. He leans down and presses a sweet kiss to your lips, firm and reassuring. It's like he's reminding you that he's right here, in front of you. He's not going anywhere.

You might be, though.

"We've got all the time in the world, remember?" he murmurs against your mouth.

"All the time in the world," you echo, tucking your head into his chest.

He holds you close until your breakfast starts to burn. The impending fire on the stove is nothing compared to the impending fire that feels like your future.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The two of you eat on your balcony, tangled together on the love seat chair. The sun is beating down, beams of light illuminating Bucky, setting him aglow. He looks like an angel, the golden hue creating a halo around him. You wonder for a second if he is. An angel sent just for you.

"Oh hey, did I tell you?" he asks, turning as much as he can in his spot to face you.

"Tell me what?"

"Leonie and Eli are having a baby."

"No way!" you exclaim, grabbing a hold of his hands in excitement. "I'm so happy for them. Man, it feels like yesterday that they found each other."

"Right? Hell of a story, too."

"Rough one, though. I mean, imagine it. You introduce your brother to your new girlfriend, and turns out they're soulmates."

Bucky's laughing so hard that he's clutching at his stomach, shaking the chair and you along with it.

"That's fucked," he wheezes. "It's so fucked."

You can't contain your own laughter, not when his is so contagious.

"It's not funny," you breathe, but you're giggling so hard your sides hurt.

"Not funny at all," he chuckles, pinching your thigh.

"If you think about it, our Tethering is a little fucked up too. I mean, you're my Dad's best friend."

"Yeah... not ideal, huh?" he teases, still laughing.

"Not ideal at all, really," you agree playfully.

You sit in the quiet for a moment before you speak again.

"What do you think they'll say? When we tell them, eventually?"

Bucky thinks for a moment, cogs turning in his brain. He considers carefully before he answers you.

"...I think they'll be happy for us. Your Mom'll be excited. It might be a little harder for your Dad to navigate, I guess, but... he'll be okay."

"Yeah. You're probably right."

The rational part of your brain is telling you that he is. They'll be ecstatic that the two of you have found your person. The celebrations will be endless.

But there's a tiny, nagging piece of your mind that won't let you rest. It's taunting you, telling you that they're going to be confused, shocked, upset. That they won't accept the two of you. You can't lose them over a soulmate. You won't.

You clear your throat and stand from your spot, picking up your empty plates.

"Don't you have to be at work soon? I doubt you can show up in pajamas."

"I'm the boss, pretty girl. I can wear whatever the hell I want."

You raise an eyebrow at him, and he relents.

"Fine. I need to change. But I'll see you later? At your Mom's?"

"Yeah, of course. I'll see you there."

You walk Bucky to the door, opening it expectantly. He looks at you for a moment too long, still unconvinced by your reassurances from earlier.

"If you need anything, just call me. You know you can talk to me anytime, yeah?"

"Yeah," you confirm, absentmindedly playing with the hem of his t shirt. "I know, Buck. Thanks."

He leans in to kiss your forehead before leaving you in the doorway, more confused than ever.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You commit your day to baking your feelings away.

As soon as Bucky left your apartment, the space felt empty, incomplete. Much like you do. As much as you hate to admit it, you feel better when Bucky is around. You know it's the whole Tethering thing, but still. Your heart feels fuller, the world seems brighter, the sun on your skin is warmer. Everything's easier when your soulmate is next to you.

You click on the radio, a soft, jazzy melody filling your kitchen. You begin to measure your ingredients, picking up bowls, utensils and your piping bags as you go.

This is the only thing you've ever felt like you were made to do. Sure, you've had hobbies as you've grown up. You're a good swimmer, you enjoyed soccer, you weren't too bad at dance. But nothing compared to baking.

Which at first, sounded ridiculous. Grown ups would ask you what you wanted to be when you were older, and when you said Baker, they'd laugh in that patronising way that adults do. It didn't stop you, though.

Your Grandma bought you a half empty recipe book for your tenth birthday. You can create your own and add them, she'd said. You'll be publishing a book with your name on in no time.

Your parents took you on a European vacation when you were sixteen. In Amsterdam, you passed this tiny little bakery, tucked away down a back street. It was red brick with a big window in the front, showcasing the cakes and endless sweet treats they had to offer. When you peered through the glass, you watched as the woman who you assumed was the owner went about her day. She looked so happy to be serving her customers. You decided then and there that was going to be you one day. A Bakery of your own. A happy life.

Which is why you're having such a hard time. You haven't talked to Stella since she called you, and you're worried she's going to change her mind if she doesn't hear from you soon. You haven't talked to Bucky about it either, even though he presented you with opportunity after opportunity this morning. It's starting to feel like the walls are caving in.

So, you do what you do best. Bake.

The day passes by quicker than anticipated, lost in a cloud of cinnamon and powdered sugar. You're wiping down your counters when your phone rings, Bucky's name lighting up your screen.

"Hi, Buck."

"Hey, pretty baby. You want me to pick you up later? I'm passing your place anyway."

He's always thinking of you so selflessly. The thought makes your heart stutter for a moment.

"You sure you don't mind?"

"Course not. I can drop by at six? Gives us enough time to help your Mom set up."

"Sounds perfect. Thanks, Buck."

"See you then, honey."

You hang up the phone and realise the hours have completely escaped you. You jump in the shower and do your hair and makeup in record time, miraculously. You're stood in a towel in front of your closet when you feel Bucky pull up outside. The tension in your chest eases a little, and you take a deep, full breath. He knocks on the door, and you completely relax.

"Hey, you," he greets, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek.

You take a step back to look at him, and almost lose your balance. He looks ridiculously handsome. He's wearing a dark short sleeve button up that hugs his biceps so tightly, you're worried it might burst open. His jeans cling to his thighs deliciously, and the leather jacket slung over his shoulder adds a ruggedness that most men couldn't pull off. Your eyes rake over him slowly, taking him in from top to bottom. He lets you devour him, smirk never leaving his lips. Eventually, you meet his gaze.

"You see something you like?"

"You clean up real nice, Barnes," you tease, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing a sweet kiss to his lips.

You untangle yourself from him before you jump his bones, and walk back to your closet. He follows you and sits on the edge of your bed, watching your every move like a hawk.

You pick out a sage green sundress that skims your thighs and hugs you in all the right places. It's a warm night, and your Mom loves to start a bonfire when it's cold.

"Close your eyes, playboy," you scold jokingly, laughing when he flops backwards to stare at your ceiling.

You slip the dress on, and realise it has a zipper at the back that you can't reach.

"Buck? Can you zip me up, please?"

He rises from his spot on the bed and strides over to you, standing a little closer than necessary. He pulls the zip upwards ever so slowly, fingertips brushing your spine as he goes. He's so warm and so broad behind you that it sends a shiver through your body.

Bucky brushes your hair to one side and leans down to press a featherlight kiss the place where your neck meets your shoulder. You hum in contentment, which only spurs him on. He begins to leave kisses wherever he pleases - your shoulder, your neck, behind your ear. You practically melt into him, and he wraps his arms around you to keep you steady.

"You look so beautiful," he murmurs against your skin. "Prettiest girl I've ever seen."

You smile at his words, leaning your head back to rest on his shoulder.

"Says the man that looks like a goddamn supermodel."

"Oh, angel. Now you're just lying to me."

His chuckle rumbles through the both of you, the sound lighting up your nerve endings.

Your eyes flick across the room, where you notice the clock on the wall.

"Baby," you whisper. "You gotta stop. We're gonna be late."

He groans lowly and lets his head loll into the crease of your shoulder.

"I was fine until you called me baby," he murmurs. "Now that's all I'm gonna be thinking about for the rest of the night."

"Sorry."

"You're not."

"I'm not."

You both laugh and untangle yourselves, you moving to put on your shoes while Bucky straightens himself out.

"You gonna be able to keep your hands to yourself, lover boy?"

"I'm gonna have to," he grumbles, trying to hide the smile that's fighting to take over his face.

You lean against him as you do up the straps of your shoes, dancing your fingers down his arm to interlink your hands.

"Ready?" you ask, looking up at him with big doe eyes.

"Ready," he confirms, leaning down to kiss you chastely.

"A night of pretending that we're not soulmates. How hard can that be?"

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Pretending that Bucky isn't your soulmate is one of the hardest things you've ever done.

You haven't even made it inside yet.

Buck parks his truck in your parents driveway and turns to look at you. You've been silent the entire ride over, and it's making him anxious. He reaches over and places a warm palm on your bare thigh, thumb rubbing patterns back and forth.

"You okay?"

You take a deep breath, which is all the answer he needs.

"It's alright, baby. I'm nervous too. We've got this. We're alright."

You look into his eyes for the first time since you were in your apartment, and have to fight to stop yourself from crying. You nod and bite your lip, inhaling and exhaling carefully.

"You're okay. I promise. It's me and you, honey girl. It's me and you."

You want to crawl over into Bucky's lap and bury your face in his chest. You want to curl up in his strong arms and let his scent envelope you. You want to tangle your fingers into his hair and smash his lips to yours, until you don't know where you end and Bucky begins.

Instead, you bring his hand from your thigh to your lips, and kiss each of his knuckles tenderly. The gesture makes his heart beat so fast, he's a little worried he's about to pass out.

"Come and talk to me anytime tonight, okay? I've got you. I've always got you."

You nod again, and take another deep breath.

"I know, Buck. It's the only thing I'm sure of."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"My baby!"

Your Mom smothers you in a hug the minute you knock on the door, almost tipping you over in the process.

"Oh, you look so beautiful. This colour is gorgeous on you, sweetheart."

The heaviness of your heart gets a little lighter at the sight of your Mother. She's magic like that.

"Thanks Mama. Is your skirt new? It's pretty."

She gives you a twirl, the skirt billowing around her like a princess. Both you and Bucky smile when you catch each others eyes briefly.

"I got it on our trip! Your Dad got a new shirt too - he looks so handsome."

She's grinning from ear to ear talking about him. Your smile only gets wider.

Bucky gives your Mom a one armed hug, and hands her a white box with a bow on.

"I wish I could say this is from me, but I don't have nearly enough talent for that."

"You're plenty good at other things, Buck," she laughs. "What's in here, sweetheart?"

"Apple, carrot and cinnamon cake with cream cheese frosting. I piped little bunny rabbits on top, too."

Before she can say anything else, you take the box from her hands and walk into the house.

"We better put this in the refrigerator before the frosting melts!" you call as you leave.

"Come on Buck, let's get you a drink. Jack bought your favourite."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Your parents backyard looks incredible.

Golden fairylights adorn the deck, illuminating the dining area that your Mom has set up. The table is covered with a white lace tablecloth, and littered with tea lights and candlesticks. Each place setting has a wine and a water glass ready, fringed cushions perched on each wooden chair. There's a beautiful bouquet of flowers in a stained glass vase as the centerpiece, more flowers scattered across the entirety of the table.

The sun hasn't set yet, and the entire garden is dripping with the glowing orange hue of the evening. The air is warm and calm, salty ocean breeze only disrupting the peace occasionally. If summer were to be summed up in a night, it'd be this one.

Your Dad is pouring water into all of the glasses from an ornate painted jug when you walk into the yard.

"Hi, Papa."

"Oh, sweetheart!" he smiles in surprise, abandoning his task to come and give you a hug. "You look amazing. I like your dress."

"Thank you - hey, is this your new shirt? It suits you!"

"It's nice, right? Your Mom picked it out. She said the colour brings out my eyes."

You look him up and down comically, crossing your arms over your chest like a cartoon detective.

"Hmm... she's right. It definitely does."

You're both laughing when your Mom and Bucky join you, the two men immediately smacking each other on the back affectionately.

"Where you been, Buck? Work keeping you busy?"

"Stupidly busy - you wouldn't even believe."

"Well, it's your night off, so no shop talk!" your Mom encourages, handing Bucky a beer.

"Easier said than done," he winks, and your breathing picks up just a little.

"Mama, do you need help with anything in the kitchen?"

"Oh, yes please, sweetheart. Come, let me show you what needs doing."

The two of you leave the men to catch up, walking inside to prep the appetisers.

You're slicing tomatoes carefully when you turn to watch your Mom for a minute. She's chopping up basil, completely engrossed. The evening sun beams in, illuminating her as she stands by the window. You love her so much it makes you unsteady on your feet.

"Hey, Mama? Can I talk to you about something?"

She turns and immediately stops what she's doing, giving her full attention to you.

"Of course you can, baby. Anything at all."

You take a deep breath, and carry on slicing while you talk.

"So, you remember Stella, right?

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The night goes off without a hitch.

There's good food, gorgeous wine and even better company. Your parents invited many of their friends, meaning twelve of you are sat around the meticulously prepared table. In between courses, there's conversation, laughter and games, everyone letting go of the stress of the week.

You're doing everything you can to avoid looking at Bucky. You're worried that if someone catches the two of you, they'll know everything. You're surprised you haven't confessed already, the weight of the secret too heavy to bear.

Your Mom is cutting your cake on the table when there's a sudden commotion.

"Oh, fuck!"

"Shit! Shit, I'm sorry. Shit."

"Is everyone okay?" your Mom asks, flitting to the other end of the table.

"I'm so fucking clumsy, my God. Dropped my wine straight onto Bucky," Jesse, one of your Dad's oldest friends, explains.

"As long as it doesn't stain my white tablecloth, we're fine," your Mom laughs. "What do you need, Buck?"

"It's only white wine, luckily, so no stain. I'm just wet. I'm gonna go dry off."

"I have a hairdryer?" you offer without thinking.

"Good idea, honey. Go help Bucky upstairs while I get some paper towels."

You rise from your chair and make your way inside, heart racing as Bucky follows you. You rummage around the drawers of your childhood bedroom, certain you used to keep all of your hair tools here somewhere.

"You got it?" a warm, whiskey smooth voice asks from behind you.

"Got it," you reply, standing up with the hairdryer in your hand.

Bucky kicks the door closed behind him, and takes a step into you.

"I can't focus on anything when you're sat there in that dress," he murmurs. "Look like a fuckin' angel, all pretty under the lights."

Heat blooms over your chest, and you pray he doesn't notice. Your breathing quickens, and you step forward too, now chest to chest with him.

"I'm so worried that I'm going to accidentally blurt it out," you confess. "You're the only thing that's on my mind."

Bucky leans down to press his lips to yours, smiling into the kiss. You fist your hands into his shirt and pull him closer, snaking your tongue into his mouth. He tastes like mint and sugar and every kiss for the rest of your life.

He groans when you bite his lip, nipping yours back in retaliation.

"Easy, baby," he warns teasingly. "I can't go back down there black and blue."

You roll your eyes and kiss him harder, practically melting when he grabs at your ass roughly.

"What do you need, pretty girl?" he questions against your mouth. "I'll give you anything."

You're panting against him, vibrating with need.

"Need you to take the edge off," you whisper, hands shaking as you unbutton his wet shirt. "Can't carry on like this. Please, baby. Please."

"We've gotta be quick," he reminds, sneaking his hand under your dress to tease you over your underwear.

You grab at his shoulders for leverage, almost certain your knees aren't going to hold out long enough. Bucky doesn't even take your panties off, just slips his hand down the front. It feels filthier this way.

"Fuck," he groans. "This all for me, honey? You been thinking about this?"

"Yes," you whine. "All I've thought about."

Bucky wastes no time, slipping a finger into you easily. After a minute, he adds another, setting a steady rhythm immediately.

"Shit," you breathe, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his chest. "We're supposed to be taking it slow."

"You want me to go slow?"

"No, fuck," you say immediately. "Don't stop. Please."

He chuckles lowly, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you.

"I won't, baby. Almost there."

It should be embarrassing, how quickly he can take you to the edge, but you don't care. This is what having a soulmate is. They know you better than anyone - inside and out.

"So close," you whisper.

"I know, pretty baby. I can feel it. Stay quiet and come for me. That's it."

You can't hold out when he uses that tone with you. You're thrown over the edge, your climax running through you like molten honey, hot and delicious. Your knees buckle, and Bucky uses a strong arm around your middle to hold you up.

"There we go," he's murmuring. "Atta girl. That's my girl."

You wrap your arms around his waist and breathe him in, finally coming back to your senses.

"My parents are gonna wonder where we are," you realise. "Grab your shirt and the hairdryer. You're gonna have to do it while I recover."

Bucky smiles at you with so much affection, the world stops spinning for a second. This is a moment of bliss. The two of you revel in it.

Bucky dries his shirt while you go back outside, trying to keep suspicion to a minimum.

"Fixed, sweetheart?" your Mom asks, holding out a piece of cake to you. You take it gratefully and sit back down, relaxing into your chair.

"Yeah, it's basically dry. That hairdryer is old, so it's taking a while."

"Well you didn't miss much, other than Jesse telling the Joshua Tree story for the fortieth time this month," your Dad laughs.

"You love that story, asshole!" Jesse yells, just as Bucky re-enters the garden. He throws you a mischievous smile, which you reciprocate with ease.

Everyone is a little more careful with their wine as the night goes on, keeping all the glasses planted firmly on the table.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"So then I said, well, if you don't like it, leave!"

You're pretty sure you've heard your Mom's friend Cora tell this story before, but you're all laughing like it's the first time. She has such an animated voice, you're convinced you could listen to her read the phone book.

"Which, I mean, I didn't think he would. Imagine breaking up over a chinchilla! A fucking chinchilla!"

You're laughing so hard your sides hurt. You look over to Bucky, and see that he's grinning like a Cheshire cat. You could get used to this.

"So I watched him pack his shit, box by box. Which took fucking ages, by the way. He was using those big plastic boxes, you know the black ones? And he was filling them so carefully and so slowly, that I started helping him!"

You wipe a tear from your face, still doubled over in amusement. You're gonna be sore tomorrow, the way your abs hurt now.

"But I didn't want him taking those boxes, because they're nice, right? They're expensive, and they're mine! So I helped him move out, and then unpacked all of his shit so I could have my boxes back."

Your Mom, despite hearing this story before, hasn't taken her eyes off Cora the entire time. She's such a careful listener. It's one of the things you love most about her.

"Oh, I'll drop them off for you, if you like!" Cora yells, staring directly at you. Everyone turns to look at you in confusion.

"Why would she need all your boxes?" Jesse laughs.

"For the big move!"

Time stands still. The world goes silent. Your heart stops beating.

"...What move?" Bucky asks, never taking his eyes off you.

"To California! Her dream job, falling in her lap. We're so proud of you, babygirl. You've worked so hard for this."

Cora's tearing up now, the alcohol catching up to her. She raises her glass high in the air.

"To our little superstar. The best baker the world has ever seen! Cheers!"

Everyone clinks their glasses together in the middle of the table, except for you and Bucky. You haven't taken your eyes off each other. The world carries on, but you stay still.

You suddenly feel a cacophony of emotions - sadness, anger, betrayal, hurt and confusion settling like ten tonne weights onto your chest. Then it hits you - you're feeling what Bucky feels.

You feel a heart break.

You're not sure if it's yours or his.

tag list part one -

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nathaslosthershit · 7 months

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A Little White Chapel Wedding (LS18)

(Part 3 of the Blind Item Series) Summary: Lance and his now wife had their reasons for eloping, he just hopes his dad will understand.

Lance and his girlfriend, now wife, had always wanted to keep their relationship out of the spotlight. Given how much hate and controversy surrounded Lance due to his father’s ownership of the team, he had already taken a major step back from social media. He knew that dating another heir apparent would piss many fans off, even if it was solely for love that they were together. Both of their families knew and greatly approved of the relationship but once Lance had proposed it seemed their families wanted to take over fully. Wedding preparations had been started without any input from the groom and bride-to-be. Seeing all these decisions made without the two’s consent had put a ton of stress on them. This was supposed to be the happiest day of their lives and they had absolutely no say in the matter. Guest lists full of investors and other business partners took away from the intimacy of the event. No detail was left unscrutinized and it was going to be far too extravagant, as this was going to be the first time they announced their relationship and the families joining together.

When Lance and his fiancee had gotten to Vegas, they had no plans of getting married that weekend. The thought only crossed Lance’s mind after the race.

“P5 Lance! Oh honey I couldn’t be more proud.” She said as she ran up and hugged him. She had been waiting what felt like forever to congratulate him, as he had been so surrounded the minute the race ended.

Pulling away from the hug, Lance put his hands on her cheeks as he said “let's get married”

“We are, Lance.” She responded, perplexed.

“Tonight. Let's elope and have an actual wedding about the two of us. No one else.”

“Honey, our families would kill us if we did that.” While the idea sounded wonderfully romantic and gave her butterflies just thinking about it, it just couldn’t work with the way things were.

“Who cares? We don’t have to tell them right away. We get married now, take an extra long honeymoon over break and then tell them once the season starts.”

“I don’t know Lance.”

“Please? It is unfair we don’t get to have the wedding we want. Who gives a shit about the guestlist with a million business partners we’ve never met. If they still need a wedding then we will do it their way but let's have our way first.”

She took a minute to respond, thinking the idea over before she finally gave her answer. “Okay, Lance. Let's get married.”

Lance had never envisioned his wedding going the way it did, but he also never saw it the way his family planned it to be.

Although as happy as he was, he felt so guilty when he thought of how his family would feel knowing that he got married without them there to see it. As important as business was to Lawrence Stroll, he knew his dad valued and loved his family above all else.

Over break, the newlyweds had gone on a bit of a delayed honeymoon, posed as just a really nice vacation.

They only got the honeymoon suit because they really wanted to go all out. No other reason…

They thought they had made it out unscathed, planning on telling their family in a week when they had gotten back from their vacation. Too bad they didn’t get to.

Lance’s wife saw the post first. He barely checked socials anymore. When the photos of them confirmed that the Blind Items post was about them, she felt a chill run through her body. Their families had to have known already, public image was important to both of them so they definitely had PR teams constantly checking what was going on. And she was correct.

“Honey, I just got a call from my Dad. He sounded pretty upset, and said we had to come home quickly and meet with him.” Lance said, confused and worried. His dad rarely sounded as serious as he did on the phone.

Wordlesy, she passed her phone to Lance with the tweet pulled up. She could see the color drain from his face as he read through replies. Fuck this wasn’t good.

What was probably the most stressful plane ride of Lance’s life was also painstakingly long. He couldn’t swallow the guilt building in his throat at how upset his father must be.

The once welcoming and happy house was now cold and silent as the couple walked inside. His father didn’t greet them, just told the two of them to follow him into his office. Lance just held his wife’s hand and squeezed it reassuringly as they made their way up there.

Lawrence still remained silent as he sat in his chair, looking at his married son and new daughter-in-law for the first time.

Lance was the one to break the silence.

“Dad, I know this is a lot but please-” He was cut off by the simple raise of his father’s hand to silence him.

“Why, Lance? We spend all this time planning the two of you a beautiful wedding just for you both to throw it away? For what?”

“Dad, you dont under-”

“No, Lance, I don’t. I mean how could you be so stupid?”

“Please if you just listen, Dad-”

“I have never been more disrespected by yo-”

“Stop!” Lance’s wife spoke up. She finally had to butt in. “You tell Lance you don’t understand and when he tries to explain you cut him off! How are we supposed to have a conversation when you won’t let anyone else speak?”

Silence spread across the room as no one dared to respond. She could practically feel the smoke coming out of her ears.

“Dad. We eloped because we wanted something that was for us. The wedding you were planning wasn’t ours. We didn’t have a say in anything. From guest list to menu, you all controlled that. We wanted to get married on our own terms. While I will forever be sorry you weren’t with us, I am not sorry for getting married the way I did, to the girl I love.” Lance grabbed your hand once again to squeeze, to remind him why he did what he did.

His father didn’t say anything for a few moments. The newlyweds waited patiently, praying Lawrence wouldn’t fly off the handle again.

Finally he said, “Then I owe you both an apology. I understand that you both had expectations for your wedding and not having any say in the matter didn’t feel good. I wish you both said something. At the end of the day though, this is still a big deal for our families business-wise. You are my only son though, Lance, I wish I could have seen you get married.”

“We can still have the wedding, Mr.Stoll. Our plan was just to have something for ourselves, then have the main event be for everyone else.”

Lawrence smiled at that. Happy he would still get to see his son get married, even if it is the second time.

This time luckily, the couple got a bit more of a say in wedding preparations. With no comment from either family, the Vegas elopement was quickly forgotten once more pressing gossip reached the public.

While it still wasn’t what Lance and his wife had envisioned, having their families there this time was all they could ask for.

lance_stroll

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lance_stroll One for us and one for them

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#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #lance stroll x reader #ls18 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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crystallinestars · 1 month

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Romantic Scenarios

If I could draw, I would have drawn these instead of writing them out, but alas, writing is all I can contribute. This is 99% aesthetics and 1% plot.

Characters: Argenti, Jiaoqiu, Aventurine, Ratio, Sunday, and Luocha

�� Argenti

Inside an abandoned chapel of the Goddess Idrila, stood a princess and her knight. Moss and ivy covered the crumbling walls, and grass poked through the marble tiles, creating a carpet for you and Argenti to tread upon. You stood in front of the altar, illuminated by sunlight shining from the holes in the ceiling and the intact stained glass windows above. Argenti knelt on one knee before you, gazing at you with equal parts of devotion and adoration while extending a red rose to you, swearing to protect you as your loyal knight and secret lover.

🦊 Jiaoqiu

You entered a small medicine shop, and were greeted with the pleasant aroma of exotic spices and herbs. The walls were covered in shelves chock-full of colorful bottles, vials, and jars containing various liquids and powders. Behind the counter at the back of the shop sits Jiaoqiu, welcoming you with a sly smile and a polite greeting. A familiar tickling in your throat sent you into a coughing fit, and you cover your mouth with your hand while a concerned Jiaoqiu quickly walked over to you. Once your coughing subsided, you held up a flower petal for Jiaoqiu to see, one you had expelled from your lungs, much to his astonishment. He was your last hope, you said, your last hope in curing this mysterious illness. (Hanahaki AU)

🃏 Aventurine

Rain drizzled a steady beat against the window of your apartment. It was the middle of the night and the room was pitch dark, save for the dim light of a fluorescent shop sign shining inside from a neighboring building. It cast cyan and magenta hues through the window, outlining your and Aventurine’s silhouettes while you made out on the couch. Your wet hair was stuck to your face, both your and his hands eagerly peeled away the rain-drenched clothes on your bodies, but you didn’t feel the cold. There was only the warmth of Aventurine’s lips and the scorching heat of his whispered “I love you”s.

📘 Ratio

Countless stars reflected in the surface of the glassy, still lake, creating a beautiful cosmic pool. You and Ratio stood a few feet away from the water, gazing up at the glittering sky. It was a bit chilly so Ratio allowed you inside his jacket, holding you close to keep you warm while you both watched the meteor shower above. A myriad of shooting stars raced through the sky, leaving behind golden trails that disappeared in the blink of an eye only to be replaced with another. In that moment, you were grateful to Ratio for inviting you to watch this rare phenomenon with him, for it was truly beautiful.

🪽 Sunday

You and Sunday walked along the sandy beach, hand-in-hand. The cloudless blue sky reflected off the ocean’s surface and the warm water gently lapped at your feet. Each of you held an ice cream cone in your free hand, leisurely eating while strolling along the shore. Feeling mischievous, you lied, saying Sunday had a bit of ice cream on the corner of his mouth. Before he could react, you leaned in and kissed the corner of his lips, watching with restrained laughter how his face flushed at the sudden affection, and attempting to hide it from you by covering it with his wings.

⚰️ Luocha

Luocha’s hold on your hand and waist was firm yet gentle as he confidently guided you across the ballroom floor, dancing along to the live orchestral music. The glittering chandeliers, lively chatter and laughter of colorfully-dressed guests, and delicious scents of food piled on the tables had all overwhelmed you earlier, but now disappeared into the background as your gaze was caught captive by Luocha’s. The Duke’s eyes were gentle, and there was an unspoken emotion in his verdant depths that shone through every time he looked at you. You could never quite put your finger on it, but that emotion had your heart fluttering in your chest and wishing that this dance would never end.

#honkai star rail x reader #star rail x reader #hsr x reader #argenti x reader #jiaoqiu x reader #aventurine x reader #veritas ratio x reader #ratio x reader #sunday x reader #hsr sunday x reader #luocha x reader

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wonderlanddreamer · 2 months

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[Tommy Shelby x Reader]

Summary: Thank you for this request. Since your marriage, Tommy has always been so gentle with you. But lately you've been craving something with a little more ferocity.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content. 18+ MDNI. You know the drill by now.

You still remembered the day you and Tommy Shelby got married as if it were yesterday. The memory was a vivid, brilliant tapestry of emotions and sensations. The way the sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows of the small Birmingham chapel, casting colorful patterns on the floor as you walked down the aisle, was something you’d never forget. Your heart had pounded with a mix of excitement and nervousness, a symphony of emotions playing within you. You could still hear the soft rustle of your gown, the gentle hum of the organ, and the quiet murmurs of family and other guests witnessing the union.

As you reached the altar, there was Tommy, waiting for you with a look that melted every ounce of anxiety away. His piercing blue eyes, usually so guarded and calculating, were filled with pure love and adoration. The way he looked at you made you feel like the most cherished person in the world, as if nothing and no one else existed in that moment but the two of you. It was a look that promised a lifetime of love, care, and unwavering support, a stark contrast to the hardened gangster persona he showed to the rest of the world.

Life with Tommy had been nothing short of a dream, albeit an unconventional one. Every day, he found new ways to show you how much he loved you, from sweet morning kisses that gently coaxed you awake to spontaneous acts of kindness that made your heart flutter with joy. He would leave little notes for you to find, or surprise you with your favourite flowers just to see you smile. Your honeymoon phase had been filled with laughter, tenderness, and a deepening bond that you treasured immensely. Nights were spent in each other’s arms, whispering sweet nothings and sharing dreams for the future, a stark contrast to the gritty reality of his day-to-day dealings with the Peaky Blinders.

In the bedroom, Tommy had always been incredibly gentle and caring. His touch was soft, his words were sweet, and he constantly made sure you were comfortable and happy. His hands would trace delicate patterns on your skin, his kisses were tender, and his voice was a soothing balm that eased all your worries. At first, you had loved the way he treated you with such reverence and tenderness. It made you feel safe and loved, and you cherished those intimate moments with him. They were a sanctuary, a place where you felt utterly adored and protected, a stark contrast to the dangerous world outside your bedroom door.

However, as time went on, you started to feel a growing desire for something different. You loved Tommy’s gentleness, but a part of you longed for a different kind of passion, a fire that burned with more intensity. It was a desire that you found hard to articulate, even to yourself. You were shy and unsure how to bring it up to Tommy, fearing that he might misunderstand or think he had done something wrong. The thought of hurting his feelings or making him doubt his expressions of love was something you couldn’t bear, especially knowing how deeply he valued your happiness.

One evening, as you lay in bed together, wrapped in each other's arms, you decided to take a leap of faith. Tommy was tracing lazy circles on your back, his touch as soothing as ever, but your mind was racing with thoughts of how to broach the topic.

“Tommy,” you began hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He pulled back slightly to look at you, concern flickering in his eyes. “What is it, love?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.

You took a deep breath, feeling your heart pound. The words tumbled out before you could second-guess yourself. “I... I want you to be rougher with me. In bed.”

Tommy’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, but he didn’t interrupt. He simply watched you, waiting for you to continue.

“I mean, I love how gentle you are,” you quickly added, feeling a flush creep up your neck. “It’s just... I want to feel your strength. I want you to take control, to be more intense. I’ve been craving it, but I didn’t know how to tell you.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then Tommy’s expression shifted, his eyes darkening to a smouldering intensity that made your breath hitch. His smile was slow, predatory. “You should have told me sooner,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “I want to give you everything you need.”

You exhaled a breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding. “Really?”

“Really,” he affirmed, his gaze never leaving yours, his eyes burning with a fierce, possessive hunger. “If you want to see a rougher side of me, you just have to ask.”

The promise in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt a thrill of anticipation.

Tommy leaned in closer, his hand sliding down to grip you with a firmer hold than usual, his fingers digging into your flesh in a way that made your breath hitch. “Are you ready for that now?” he asked, his voice a low, dangerous growl that sent waves of heat through you.

“Yes,” you whispered, your heart racing, your body already responding to the intensity in his gaze. “Please, Tommy.”

With a predatory smile that made your pulse quicken, Tommy flipped you onto your back with a swift, decisive motion, pinning your wrists above your head with one strong hand. His eyes bored into yours, filled with a fierce, possessive hunger that made your stomach tighten with anticipation. “Then let’s see just how rough you can handle it,” he murmured, his voice dripping with promise and challenge.

He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a fierce, demanding kiss. His teeth grazed your lower lip, eliciting a gasp that seemed to fuel his fire. The spark of electricity that shot through you was almost too intense to bear. His free hand moved from your wrists, trailing down your arms, fingertips leaving a burning path as they travelled down your sides. When his hands finally gripped your hips, the hold was firm, possessive, making it clear just how much strength he was holding back.

Tommy released your hands and moved both of his to your hips, gripping them tightly as he positioned himself above you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. The dominance in his presence was palpable, every movement filled with a calculated roughness that sent a thrill through your entire body. He moved with a sense of purpose, his actions rougher but still controlled, a perfect balance of power and restraint. You could feel his strength, the raw power he held back for your sake, and it made your entire body hum with a mixture of fear and exhilaration.

The change in his demeanour was intoxicating, every touch, every kiss, every rough grip of your flesh igniting something primal within you. You could feel the intensity of his desire, the way he wanted to own every part of you, and it sent your mind reeling. Tommy’s rougher side was everything you had craved and more, a dark, intoxicating blend of passion and power that left you breathless and wanting.

You gazed up at him, your breath coming in short gasps. "I don't want you to treat me like I will break."

He nodded, his eyes blazing with desire. “So be it."

Tommy's voice was a low growl, reverberating through you and intensifying the anticipation. He tightened his grip on your hips, fingers digging in just enough to leave a gentle mark, a reminder of his presence and strength. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense, before he leaned down to claim your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue invaded your mouth, demanding and rough, leaving you breathless and aching for more.

With a swift motion, he flipped you onto your stomach, his hands never leaving your body. The sudden change in position made your heart race even faster. You felt the cool air against your back as he pulled your hips up, positioning you on all fours. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve and dip, his touch both firm and possessive, claiming every inch of you with a deliberate intensity.

"You look so beautiful like this," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "So ready for me."

He smiled against your skin, his lips trailing down your back, leaving a trail of fiery kisses in their wake. His teeth grazed your shoulder, biting down just hard enough to send a jolt of pleasure-pain through you. You gasped, arching your back and pressing into him, craving more of his touch, his dominance, his control.

Tommy's hand slid down your spine, his touch both soothing and electrifying. When he reached your lower back, he paused, his fingers digging in slightly, sending shivers down your body. "You want it rough, love?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you.

"Yes," you breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation, every nerve ending alight with the promise of what was to come.

With that, he gripped your hips firmly and pulled you back against him. You felt his hardness pressing against you, a tantalising promise of what was to come. He moved with a measured intensity, positioning himself at your entrance. He paused for a moment, the anticipation building to a fever pitch, every second stretching out like an eternity.

Then, with a powerful thrust, he entered you, filling you completely. The force of his movement made you cry out, a mix of pleasure and pain that left you reeling, your mind spinning with the intensity of it. He didn't give you time to adjust, pulling back and thrusting into you again, harder this time. Each movement was deliberate, rough, and filled with a raw intensity that you had never experienced before.

Each push was a potent mix of power and precision, his hips driving forward with a force that left you gasping. You could feel the full length of him as he plunged deep inside you, stretching you, filling you completely. The rhythm he set was unyielding, each powerful stroke sending shockwaves of sensation through your body.

Your senses were overwhelmed by the raw intensity of it all—the sound of skin against skin, the raw, primal grunts escaping his lips, and your own moans of pleasure filled the room, creating a symphony of raw, carnal desire. With every withdrawal, you felt a momentary emptiness, a desperate longing that made the next powerful thrust even more electrifying. Each time he drove into you, it was like a lightning bolt of ecstasy shooting through your veins, your body trembling with the force of it. The relentless rhythm he set didn’t just push you to the edge; it hurled you toward it with a ferocity that left you breathless and utterly consumed by the raw, primal power of Tommy's love.

Tommy's hands gripped you tightly, pulling you back to meet each of his relentless drives. The sheer force of his movements reverberated through your entire being, each powerful plunge sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. His strength and power were palpable, a raw, unyielding force that overwhelmed your senses. As his pace quickened, you found yourself teetering on the precipice of ecstasy, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge. You clung desperately to the sheets, your knuckles white as you tried to ground yourself amidst the overwhelming sensations that threatened to consume you.

"Is this what you wanted?" he growled, his voice rough with exertion and dripping with intensity. "Tell me, love. Tell me you want more."

"Yes, Tommy," you gasped, barely able to form coherent words as the pleasure mounted. "I want more. Don't stop."

His response was a deep, guttural sound that sent shivers down your spine. He increased his pace, each drive becoming more forceful, more demanding, as if he were trying to imprint himself on your very soul. The intensity built within you, a coiling, tightening sensation that threatened to snap at any moment. Every powerful stroke filled you completely, each one a testament to his dominance and your surrender.

Tommy's hand moved to your hair, tangling in the strands and pulling your head back with a rough, possessive tug. The slight pain only heightened your pleasure, making you cry out louder, your voice mingling with the sounds of your bodies colliding. He leaned down, his breath hot and heavy against your ear. "You're mine," he growled, his voice filled with a fierce possessiveness. "All mine."

"Yes," you moaned, the word barely a whisper as you surrendered yourself completely. "All yours."

Without warning, Tommy slowed his pace, eliciting a needy whimper from your lips. Before you could protest, he pulled out and flipped you onto your back with a swift, practiced motion. His eyes roamed over your flushed, panting form, a wicked smile playing on his lips as he took in the sight of you.

"Did you think I was finished, love?" he asked, his voice a dark, seductive promise that sent a thrill of excitement coursing through you.

You shook your head, unable to form words, your body already aching for more of him. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

He positioned himself between your legs, spreading them wide and kneeling down with a predatory grace. His hands gripped your thighs, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity in his gaze was almost too much to bear, a fierce, unrelenting desire that mirrored your own.

"You're going to take everything I give you," he said, his voice rough and commanding, leaving no room for doubt.

You felt a thrill of excitement at his words, your body trembling with anticipation as you nodded eagerly, ready to be consumed by the raw, ferocious passion that only Tommy could bring.

Tommy entered you again, his thrusts slow and deliberate this time, drawing out the pleasure with an almost torturous precision. He watched your face intently, his eyes never leaving yours, gauging every reaction and pushing you to the brink with each calculated movement. The slow, steady rhythm allowed you to feel every inch of him, every vein and ridge, heightening the sensations coursing through your body to an almost unbearable intensity.

Tommy leaned down, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss as he moved inside you. His tongue explored your mouth with the same deliberate intent as his hips, each stroke sending shivers down your spine. The heat between you built like a slow burn, promising an impending climax that would be nothing short of explosive.

His hands roamed over your trembling body, one hand trailing up to cup your breast, his thumb flicking over your sensitive nipple, making you gasp. The other hand gripped your hip with a possessive roughness, holding you firmly in place as he continued his deliberate, torturous rhythm. Each touch, each thrust, sent powerful waves of pleasure through you, your body arching eagerly into his touch.

"You're so beautiful like this," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with desire and a hint of possessiveness. "So perfect."

You moaned in response, your hands gripping his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin with a desperate intensity. The slow, controlled pace was driving you wild, and you found yourself craving more, needing him to push you over the edge into oblivion.

"Tommy, please," you gasped, your voice trembling with need and desperation. "I need more."

He pulled back slightly, a wicked smile playing on his lips. "More, you say?" he teased, his eyes darkening with lust and determination. "I can give you more."

With that, he shifted his position, pulling your legs up to rest over his shoulders. The new angle allowed him to penetrate you deeper, each powerful thrust hitting a spot inside you that made you cry out in sheer pleasure. He picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming harder and faster, each movement sending waves of raw ecstasy crashing through you.

The intensity of his thrusts had you writhing beneath him, your body responding to his every touch with a fervor that was almost primal. You could feel the pleasure building, coiling tighter and tighter with each powerful thrust. Tommy's hands gripped your thighs with a bruising force, his fingers digging into your flesh as he drove into you with relentless, ferocious energy.

"You're mine," he growled, his voice rough and dripping with possessive hunger. "Say it."

"I'm yours," you moaned, barely able to form the words as the pleasure threatened to overwhelm you. "All yours."

The affirmation seemed to drive him wild, his movements becoming even more forceful and unrestrained. The bed creaked beneath you, the sound mingling with your gasps and moans, creating a symphony of raw, unbridled passion. Tommy's eyes never left yours, the intensity of his gaze adding to the overwhelming sensations and making you feel utterly consumed by him.

He slowed his pace again, pulling out almost completely before slamming back into you, each powerful thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. The change in rhythm kept you on edge, your body teetering on the brink of release, each slow withdrawal followed by a punishing drive that left you breathless.

Tommy's hand moved from your thigh to your clit, his fingers circling the sensitive nub with expert precision and a rough touch that sent you spiralling toward the edge. The added stimulation was too much, your body trembling violently as the force of your impending climax built to a fever pitch.

"Come for me, love," Tommy commanded, his voice a low, primal growl that seemed to reverberate deep within your core. "I want to feel you come around me."

His words were the final push you needed. With a powerful, relentless thrust, he drove you over the precipice. Your body erupted in a convulsive wave of ecstasy, muscles tightening and pulsing around him, each contraction drawing out the pleasure to its absolute limit. Every nerve ending felt electrified, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the climax that washed over you.

Tommy didn't let up, his thrusts became more deliberate, each one designed to prolong your pleasure and push you deeper into the abyss of your orgasm. His hips moved with a brutal precision, each powerful stroke sending fresh waves of sensation coursing through your trembling body. Your nails dug into his back, your cries of pleasure becoming louder, more desperate as he continued to draw every last ounce of ecstasy from you.

Your vision blurred, your mind a haze of pure, unfiltered sensation. You could feel the heat of his body, the raw power in his movements, the way he seemed to fill every part of you, making you feel completely, utterly possessed.

Tommy's breathing grew more ragged, his own release building as he felt the intensity of your climax. He shifted slightly, angling his thrusts to hit that perfect spot inside you with ruthless precision. The added stimulation was too much, sending you spiralling into a second, even more intense orgasm. Your body convulsed violently, each spasm wringing out every drop of pleasure, leaving you breathless and trembling.

As your climax began to subside, Tommy's thrusts became erratic, his rhythm faltering as he neared his own peak. His breath came in harsh, ragged gasps, his grip on your hips tightening, fingers digging into your flesh with a bruising force. With a deep, guttural groan, he finally found his release, his body shuddering as he emptied himself inside you. The feeling of his warmth filling you sent a final shiver of pleasure through your already sensitised body.

He collapsed on top of you, his weight a comforting anchor that grounded you as you both came down from the high. Your bodies remained entwined, the aftershocks of pleasure still rippling through you. Tommy's fingers gently stroked your hair, his touch tender and soothing in contrast to the raw, primal passion that had just consumed you.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice filled with genuine concern and a hint of vulnerability.

You nodded, a satisfied, almost blissful smile playing on your lips. "More than okay," you whispered, your voice still shaky from the intensity of your release. "That was incredible."

Tommy's eyes softened, a small, almost relieved smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his touch feather-light and filled with affection. You could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest, a comforting reminder of the connection you shared.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, content to simply lie there, wrapped in each other's embrace. The room was filled with the sound of your mingled breathing, the quiet aftermath of the storm of passion that had just passed. Tommy's hand continued to stroke your hair, his touch a soothing balm to your exhausted body.

As you lay there, your mind slowly began to clear, the haze of pleasure giving way to a deep, fulfilling sense of contentment. You felt utterly spent, every muscle in your body relaxed, yet there was a lingering warmth, a glow that seemed to radiate from within. It was a feeling of completeness, of being entirely and utterly sated.

Tommy shifted slightly, lifting himself up just enough to look into your eyes. "You really are amazing," he murmured, his voice filled with a mix of awe and affection. "I don't think I'll ever get enough of you."

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection for the man who had just taken you to the edge and back. "And I don't think I'll ever get enough of you," you replied, your voice soft but filled with conviction.

With a final, lingering kiss, Tommy settled back down beside you, pulling you close. The two of you lay there, bodies entwined, hearts beating in sync, content to simply be in each other's presence. The stillness of the room was a stark contrast to the whirlwind of passion you had just experienced, but it was a welcome calm, a moment of peace that you both relished.

After a while, Tommy's voice broke the silence. "Maybe next time," he began, his tone thoughtful, "we should take it a bit easier. Slow things down a little, I don't want to hurt you."

You felt a spark of defiance ignite within you. The intensity, the rawness of your time together was what made it so exhilarating, so consuming. You couldn't bear the thought of dialling it back, of tempering the fire that burned so brightly between you.

"No," you said firmly, surprising even yourself with the strength of your conviction. You propped yourself up on one elbow, meeting Tommy's gaze with an unwavering determination. "I don't want to take it easier."

Tommy raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement and curiosity dancing in his eyes. "Oh? And what do you want then, love?"

You leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "I want it rougher, harder. I want you to fuck me like you can't get enough, like you're trying to break me. I want to feel every bruise, every bite. I want to be completely wrecked by you, to the point where I can't even think straight."

Tommy's eyes darkened with desire at your words. He pulled you closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Careful what you wish for, love," he murmured, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "I might just take you up on that.”

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinder fanfic #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby smut #peaky blinders smut #fanfiction requests #tommy shelby request

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 1 year

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Eisteddfod Chairs: Pick Your Winner!

It's almost June! Nearly time to reveal the 2023 Chair! So come, gather round Tumblrs, let me tell you of the furniture-based customs of my people

So Wales has been celebrating Eisteddfodau (festivals of poetry, music, and disco dancing), in some form or another, since at least the 1100s, when Lord Rhys of Dinefwr had one all formal-like and made it into a big fun party and that. The word basically means 'sitting place', and probably refers to the way people in summer would gather round the twmpath in the village to listen to bards that passed through and drink mead and shout 'hurrah!' a lot. Amazingly, this is not where the Chair Thing comes from.

Part of Welsh history is the Bardic Age, and it was custom for bards to travel the country and visit the courts of assorted gentry types (also normal people's houses and taverns and twmpaths but let's stay on topic) and play for them. If the lord paid well, great; if not, the bard would write a Super Mean Song about them and sing it everywhere, so they were pretty well treated.

But if they were particularly good, rather than making them play for the WHOLE meal, the lord would offer them a chair at the table to join in the feast as a guest, rather than a worker, and THAT is where the Chair Thing comes from.

Anyway that's preamble to say that every year in the biggest Eisteddfod of all - the Eisteddfod Genedlaethol - the highest honour awarded goes to the Prifardd - the bard who writes the winning cywydd (super complex Welsh poetry WE DON'T HAVE TIME TO EXPLAIN ALL OF THIS). And the prize for writing the winning cywydd is that you are awarded, you guessed it, the Chair.

Now these Chairs (capital C, please, we like a bit of Fantasy Novel Capitalisation and for this cultural reason I will never understand people who complain about it) are unique. They are thrones. They are carved each year by one chosen carpenter, who crafts a one-of-a-kind Chair with symbolism and that, never to be replicated. They usually have the year carved on, but otherwise, they vary wildly in aesthetic and symbolism. In a No Award year (because Eisteddfod judges don't subscribe to the Western idea that there HAS to be a first, second and third place; if no one is good enough there is no award, and I have seen choir competitions for seven year olds where there was no first or third place but there were two choirs in joint second), the Chair is sent back to the carpenter who carved it, and they get to keep it. In a year where the bard died before the ceremony, it is draped in black, and given to next of kin.

(That has only happened once. RIP Hedd Wyn, 1887-1917. Also the only reproduced Chair; the original, known as the Gadair Ddu (the Black Chair) is on display in his family home, but a 3D printed replica has been made for display by Amgueddfa Cymru)

BUT THEREFORE a big part of Eisteddfod fun is seeing what the Chair will look like this year. Traditional ones, see, we tend to think look like variants of this:

(Apologies for the substandard attempts at alt-text; I have no clue how to describe these properly)

This one is from 1896. The phrase "Y gwir yn erbyn y byd" means "The truth against the world", and was included in a lot of old ones. Modern ones tend to incorporate the druidic symbol for awen ("poetic inspriation") instead. Some of these incidentally turn up in lil' chapels and that about the country.

But actually even the old ones were mad different, look; clockwise from top left, these are y Gadair Ddu (1917), 1876, 1926 (when the carpenter was Chinese and enjoyed the cultural fusion), and 1908.

Still the same theme, though, but in the modern day the carpenters are all off the shits! They're all over the place! Fuck the rules! And I have Opinions.

Category: I See What You Did There

SYMBOLISM!!! 2011 is a pit wheel from Wrexham's mining past! 2013 is the head of a harp, from Denbighshire's cultural harp-making past! 2017 is fish, from Anglesey's maritime present! Fantastic. Love it.

Best in category: 2017. Why does Anglesey's have so many eyes on the fish? We don't know. Wylfa B protestors reportedly furious.

Category: The Modern Throne

TALL!!! That silhouette! That height!! They have the range, darling! Christ knows 2016 doesn't have anything else going for it! Shout out to the Conwy river on 2019, the different woods from the forests of Maldwyn for 2015, and the red kite symbolism for Ceredigion in 2022 (the spiritual home of the bird, where the species was first saved).

Best in category: 2019, Conwy. I like the bridge and the river lines and the water effect on the front of the seat it's just so pretty.

Category: That's Just A Chair

(I am actually friends with the Prifardd who won 2018 at the bottom there :D )

WHAT ARE RULES WE JUST WANT FUNCTIONAL CHAIRS. Man even so 2014 was fucking ugly. You could have 2018 in your house. Around your table, like. Even 2012 has a sort of IKEA vibe that's boring but palatable. 2014 is only coming in the house under sufferance.

Best in Category: 2018, easy, and not just because it's the one I'm most likely to get to sit in one day. It's pretty.

Category: NO GODS NO CHAIRS NO MASTERS

WHAT

WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED IN 2010

BRO I DO NOT THINK YOU TRIED

Best in Category: OBVIOUSLY 2021 I COULD PHYSICALLY MAKE 2010 MYSELF

#wales!#closed for cleaning on mondays #long post

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deakyjoe · 3 months

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Arranged & Absolute

Pairing: Papa Emeritus IV/Copia x Reader (fem, afab)

Category: arranged marriage, smut

Summary: To strengthen his new position as Papa, Copia agrees to marry someone he’s never met.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected p in v sex, desk sex, you get cum on the paperwork, vaginal fingering, grinding/dry humping, kissing, groping, arranged marriage, unspecified age gap, awkward first meeting, Sister Imperator being a supportive mother (but not because Copia doesn’t know she’s his mother), dead Papas (all of them, even Nihil), guilt, self esteem issues, parental issues, loneliness, poorly translated Italian, reader vaguely described as being shorter than Copia but nothing else, let me know if I missed anything!

Word count: 6.9k

A/N: I chose the gif specifically because he looks hot in it. This fic went from “huh maybe one day I could write about an arranged marriage thing with Copia but I don’t know what exactly yet since I don’t have any solid ideas” to “what the fuck have I done” in the space of less than 24 hours! Enjoy!

Consider buying me a coffee :)

Copia had thought it was a stupid idea. But Sister Imperator had insisted. So here he was. On his wedding day. Having never met his bride.

His foot tapped against the floor at a rapid pace, nerves radiating out of him, as he stood at the head of the chapel and watched the guests flood in to take their seats. He didn't fail to notice that almost everybody there was there for him, so many of them arriving in fact that they had to start sitting on the pews that were supposed to be reserved for your friends, family and kin. But he knew you'd travelled a long way, practically the only information he knew about you, so maybe no one from your home was willing to make the journey. Still, Copia found it sad.

Sister Imperator stood at his side, attempting to be supportive. "Calm down. The ceremony will go smoothly."

That wasn't what he was worried about. He knew the wedding itself would go smoothly, Sister would make sure of it, but everything else about it seemed all wrong. For starters, he'd never met his future wife. Which was bad enough by itself. But what if you hated him? From what he'd understood, you weren't too thrilled about the pairing either but your father had managed to convince you. Copia had met your father at least but he wasn't a particularly nice man.

When Imperator had initially come to Copia with the idea he'd laughed it off thinking it was a joke. An arranged marriage in the 21st century? And in the Satanic church where they encouraged freedom of all places? He thought it was nonsense. But then when she'd explained that a well thought out match would be put in place to strengthen his new title of Papa Emeritus IV... he started to realise that she was being serious.

He'd refused at first, saying that his position was enough. He was Papa now. And there was no taking that away, especially with his three predecessors dead and Nihil also in the grave. Who was there to question his authority? But Imperator pointed out his lack of legitimacy, he wasn't really an Emeritus, and how Papa Nihil had been reluctant to let him be the face of the clergy when he was still a mere Cardinal. Then he saw the cracks in his status.

So he agreed. A spouse would be found for him, to stand by his side and bring more power to his Papacy. He'd only allowed himself a brief second of panic when Imperator had mentioned in passing the need for an heir.

Copia looked at Sister, who had changed out of the usual skirt suit she wore and had chosen to adorn a dress in a nice green colour that suited her. Despite insisting that the whole thing was a formality, Copia appreciated her effort in making the day nice. "What if she doesn't like me?"

The older woman's face softened for a moment, how hadn't she realised that was what he was nervous about? He was a sensitive soul after all, constantly seeking approval. "She will adore you, C. Don't worry."

Copia looked down at his outfit, what if he wasn't dressed well enough? First impressions mattered after all. And the paints on his face itched more than usual. What if they started sweating off? But it was too late to dwell on that now. The last few people settled in the pews and silence descended over the chapel. It was time.

The large double doors at the back of the room swung open with a creak and the quartet in the corner started playing, what Copia believed to be, some sort of twist on the wedding march. He froze as his eyes landed on you, the reality of the situation dawning on him fully and sending him into a spiral. He was about to marry somebody he'd never met.

He tried not to let it show as you started walking towards him down the aisle, a train of lace following you. Nobody was walking you to him, ready to give you away, he noticed. Your father hadn't come to the wedding? Copia drank you in, the black wedding dress sweeping down the curves of your body and the matching veil covering your face. At least he had a moment to compose himself before he had to make eye contact with you.

You walked quickly, like you wanted to get the whole thing over and done with, and you were stood at the base of the steps in front of Copia before he could blink twice. He offered a gloved hand to you to help you up, which you took after a brief moment of staring at it through your veil. Copia squeezed it gently, hoping to offer some support and solidarity. He didn't know if it translated well.

And then you were in front of him, and the ceremony was beginning.

Imperator coughed quietly behind him. "C, the veil."

"Oh." He gasped and reached up the take the bottom of it in his fingertips, pausing for a second to allow you a moment to stop him if you wanted, before lifting it and pushing it back over your head.

The moment he met your eyes, Copia felt all oxygen leave his body. You were beautiful.

You sent him a nervous smile. "Hi."

Your voice was barely a whisper, so small and worried, that he barely heard you.

"Hi." He replied, sending a smile of his own and taking your hands in his.

Sister Imperator relaxed behind him, she could tell that he was smitten with you already. She’d chosen well.

The officiant ran through the ceremony with ease, the two of you repeating all the necessary parts when needed. Then suddenly it was over, the 'I do's' were said, rings were exchanged and Copia was a married man.

"You may kiss the bride." The officiant said.

Copia looked at you for confirmation that it was okay and when you gave a small nod of approval, he shuffled towards you and rested a gloved hand on your cheek. You leaned in first, which he was glad for as he felt as if his heart was about to beat up and out of his mouth, and met him halfway. Your lips pressed together for a second or two before the both of you pulled away with shy smiles.

The room cheered, a clear mix of real elation and dubious celebration. It wasn't a love match after all. But Copia didn't care, he had high hopes about the pairing now. You seemed nice enough and he found you breathtaking, he just hoped you could feel a fraction of the same about him. Which he feared you didn't, what could he possibly offer you?

The thoughts left him as Sister Imperator patted him on the back. "Well done, C."

"Thank you." He nodded at her before looking back towards you again.

Imperator looked at you as well. "And congratulations, it's lovely to finally meet you."

"Thank you, Sister. My father speaks very highly of you." You bowed your head at her before glancing at your new husband. "I think we're supposed to run out of here now. Like the wild newlyweds people expect to see."

Copia grinned, liking your attitude, and nodded his head in agreement. "That is exactly what people expect, shall we?”

You took the hand he offered to you and the two of you trotted down the few steps before speeding towards the doors of the chapel. People shouted words of praise and felicitations as you passed them which you could only smile at in return.

Once the both of you had burst out of the exit and the doors had swung shut behind you, a moment of peace was found. You turned to each other breathless, bashful looks gracing your faces.

“Hi.” You said, louder than the first time at the altar.

“Hi.” He repeated back to you. “You look beautiful in your dress, by the way.”

“Oh, thank you.” You looked down at the garment before looking back at him. “You look handsome too. I like your jacket.”

“This old thing?” Copia replied before wincing. Why did he make it seem like he’d worn an old jacket for his wedding?

But you didn’t seem to notice his slip up as you continued to smile at him. “What happens now?”

“I believe Sister Imperator has organised a banquet for us.” He pulled you closer to him as guests started to file out of the chapel and guided you in the direction of the ballroom.

“A banquet? That’s pretty fancy.” You chimed, looping your arm through his so the two of you could walk together.

“She pulled out all the stops.” Copia looked over at you, surprised at how well you seemed to be taking it all. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.” You glanced over your shoulder at the crowd of people that was emerging steadily. “Can we just walk a little faster? I don’t want to be bombarded by all those people just yet.”

“Sì, sì.” He increased his pace, making sure you were tightly secured to his side the whole time. “What made you agree to this marriage? I heard at first that you said no.”

“Ah.” You paused. “I did say no at first. Nothing personal against you, I promise.”

“We did not know each other. It’s okay.” He assured before letting you carry on.

“I didn’t want to marry a stranger. But I did want to escape my father. You know who he is, correct?”

Copia nodded. “I’ve met him.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sorry.” You winced. “He’s not a nice man. But holds a high position in the clergy. I’m his only child, you see. And he’s always drilled into me that I am useless because I am a daughter. What use is a daughter? I cannot be an heir and inherit anything from him.”

“That’s not true!” He gasped. “The clergy dictates that-“

You cut him off by laying a hand on his arm. “It’s not the clergy’s doing. It’s my father’s. It’s okay, I grew used to his archaic ways. Anyway he said the only good I would be was marrying me off. At first I said no because I thought he was going to marry me off to an old, ugly man who was unkind. Then he told me that you seemed sensitive when he met with you which translates to nice. And he also told me that no Emeritus has ever been ugly. I believed him. He used to keep a portrait of Papa Emeritus III before he died so I knew there was some truth in that at least.”

Copia’s stomach twisted at the reminder of Terzo’s death, a sense of guilt still ate away at him when he thought about him and his older brothers. But he didn’t let it show in front of you. “Well, I am glad that you decided to believe that I was not unkind nor ugly. However, considering you didn’t mention anything about me not being old I am going to assume that you consider me to be ancient.”

You gasped out a laugh. “I didn’t say that!”

“You didn’t need to. It was implied.” He laughed along with you as you reached the ballroom, pushing the door open to allow you to go in first. When he joined your side again, he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his mouth as you linked your arm with his again.

“Wow.” You mumbled as you took in the expanse of the room. “You weren’t kidding when you said Sister Imperator pulled out all the stops.”

Copia led you over to the table designed for the newlywed couple. It held four chairs. One for him, one for you, one for Sister, and one meant for your father. He guessed that chair would remain empty for the evening.

You made no comment on it as you took your seat, watching your new husband closely as he sat next to you. “What about you? What made you agree to this marriage?”

He sighed deeply before looking at you. “I feared my place as Papa would be easy to shake. I didn’t inherit it officially through the Emeritus line like my predecessors. Marrying a family member of a high upper clergy member is meant to solidify my status.”

“Ah, a power play.” You nodded.

“Yes, a power play.” He frowned at that term. “But I only agreed once Sister promised she would find me a good match.”

“And what constitutes as a good match to you?” You asked, wondering what he’d requested in a wife.

A smile lit up his face. “The gorgeous woman who is sitting in front of me.”

“Smooth.” You replied, reminding yourself to interrogate him on the topic later.

Guests started flooding in, finding their seats at the various tables that filled the room. You just watched with barely concentrated attention.

You turned to Copia once the room was about three quarters of the way full. “How many of these people do you actually know?”

“I recognise most of them. I would say I probably know a third of them personally.” He shrugged. “How many do you know?”

“None of them.” You shrugged. “I didn’t have any guests come.”

“What? None of them?” He couldn’t quite believe that. He’d assumed that the people he didn’t recognise were your half of the wedding party.

“I don’t know many people back home. Those I do know… I wouldn’t want them here.” Your nose scrunched at the memory, the people you’d grown up around were not people you needed ruining what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life.

Copia looked at you sadly for a moment, wondering whether you were upset by the ordeal. But you seemed fine. “Well, now you have me.”

You looked at him, surprised, before a gentle smile settled on your face. “Now I have you.”

He returned the smile, picking up your hand and placing a soft kiss on the back of it. He mumbled an apology when he noticed the black kiss print he’d left on the skin there. You stopped him when he reached for a napkin to wipe it away, insisting he leave it there.

The moment was disrupted by Sister Imperator collapsing into the seat next to Copia. “You two seem to be getting along well.”

You exchanged a slightly giddy look with Copia before looking back at the older woman.

“We are.” He clarified. “You matched us well.”

“Knew I would.” She said smugly before looking at the empty chair next to you. “Your father did not attend.”

It was a statement more than a question.

A neutral smile settled over your lips, like you were prepared to discuss this. “No. I didn’t want him here. He didn’t want to be here. It was an easy enough decision.”

Imperator respected that response so said no more on the matter, only glancing towards the door to the kitchens where a group of servers were bustling about. “Food should be served soon. Then the day’s celebrations will be over.”

“No after party?” Copia sounded disappointed.

“That’ll be held next weekend. After all official marriage business has been taken care of. Ah, the food!” She sat up straighter in her chair as a waiter suddenly appeared and placed a plate in front of each of you.

You stared down at the appetiser salad that was about the size of your big toe. You hoped there were more courses to come. A lot more. Nevertheless, you picked up your fork and stabbed at a crunchy piece of lettuce before popping it in your mouth.

Copia did the same next to you before looking back towards Imperator again. “Official marriage business? Like what? We are married.”

She looked at him like it was obvious. “Well, you know what happens on the wedding night.”

He only looked more confused. “People getting drunk?”

Imperator rolled her eyes before practically hissing at him. "You must consummate the marriage."

Both you and Copia stopped chewing, forks being lowered to your plates with a clatter.

You swallowed the mouthful, straining slightly to force it down. "How- how soon?"

"Well, tonight preferably." Imperator said calmly. "To solidify your union."

"Sister, we've only just met." Your husband croaked.

The older woman looked at him unimpressed. "Are you trying to tell me you've never had a one night stand with someone you just met?"

"Well-" Copia choked. "That's- that's different."

"Different how?" She questioned, eyes flicking between the two of you. "Treat it like a one night stand. If it's terrible then you do not have to touch each other again. Well, until an heir is expected. But if it is good then see it as a lovely start to your marriage."

You ignored the talk of an heir, the thought of having a man you just met's baby being too much for you to handle in that moment. "Okay."

"Okay?!" Copia whirled on you, surprised you'd agreed that easily.

"Ah, beloved husband, do you find me that repulsive?" You grinned at him, only a hint of genuine worry in your voice.

"No, no. Of course not." He rushed out, thinking about how it was quite the opposite in fact. "I just did not expect you to give in so quickly."

"Give in?" You asked, eyebrows raising in question. "It might surprise you that the concept of sleeping with you does not sound so bad to me, Copia."

His heart, and cheeks, warmed at the use of his name. It was the first time you'd done so. It sounded nice coming out of your mouth. Out of his wife's mouth. "Eh, very well. We shall consummate the marriage."

"Wonderful." Sister Imperator clapped her hands together before standing up. "I shall inform the clergy of this joyous news."

The two of you watched her walk away, abandoning her salad, the knowledge that a group of old men now knew about your future sex lives playing in the back of your minds.

You shook the thought away as you scooted your chair closer to Copia's, lowering your voice for only him to hear. "You sound elated at the concept of sleeping with me."

His eyes widened as he looked at you. "Um, I uh-"

You smirked. "It's okay. We can just pretend if you'd like. They'll never know the difference."

"No, that's- we don't have to do that. Do you want to do that?" He took a deep breath. "To pretend?"

You looked him up and down. "No."

His ears and neck burned red with a flush. "Really?"

You let out a short giggle. "Yes, why is that so surprising to you?"

"Because I'm- and you're-" He gestured at your face but said no more.

You smiled softly. "Well, to me you are-" You mimicked his gesture to his face.

"Oh." He squeaked and you grinned widely at him. "But you're sure? So soon?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Although I would maybe like to see what's underneath all this paint first." You said, letting your eyes roam his face.

"Of course, of course." He babbled. "Maybe you will find yourself disappointed and change your mind."

You rolled your eyes. "Unlikely."

Copia liked your confidence in assuming you were going to find yourself attracted to his face underneath the makeup. He wasn’t so sure himself but at least you’d given his ego a slight boost.

The two of you exchanged idle conversation as more food was served, bigger portions to your relief, and the occasional guest came up to your table to wish you congratulations. You didn’t fail to notice the looks of envy that were sent your way by several people who eyed up Copia hungrily as they approached. You could only laugh to yourself, finding it even funnier that your new husband seemed to lack faith in his looks despite there clearly being a long line of people who wanted him.

A couple of hours passed by and soon enough the guests started clearing out, which you were thankful for. You couldn’t wait to take your shoes off or to ease up the laces on your dress. It had been a long day. But you knew it wasn’t over yet. The time was slowly approaching. The time when you were supposed to sleep with your new husband for the first time.

You weren’t nervous exactly. But there was still an element of apprehension deep inside you.

Once the last few people had departed and Sister Imperator had wished you both a good night, a very suggestive look on her face, you and Copia were left in an empty ballroom.

“Would you like me to give you a tour of the building now? Or in the morning?” He asked you as he took your hand in his, rubbing his gloved thumb over your knuckles.

“In the morning.” You decided. “It will give us something to look forward to. Besides, I can see that you’re tired.”

“Not too tired for you, I promise.” He sighed. “It’s just been a long day.”

“I know.” You agreed and stood up. “Let’s go to bed.”

The words weren’t suggestive in the slightest which is why Copia didn’t feel nervous as he joined your side and the two of you made your way out of the ballroom. He pointed out a few landmarks of the place as you walked in the direction of his rooms but everything went largely unexplored. It could wait for tomorrow.

Anxiety set in as you reached the corridor that led to his bedroom. What if you didn’t like his space? He was willing to change things, to accommodate, as he wanted you to feel welcome. But what if you hated it? And didn’t want to share a room, or a bed, with him. He supposed he would find you your own place to stay. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that it would make him sad.

“And these are my rooms.” He said as he pushed his door open and ushered you in. “Our rooms, if you’d like. But if not then I’m sure we can find you somewhere of your own to stay.”

You looked around as the doors were closed behind you. It was nice. Very him from what you’d gathered so far. There was a book case, overflowing with volumes, next to a desk covered in paperwork in one corner. A large bed took up almost an entire wall, four posters with a curtain hanging around it. Fancy. He had an ornate oak wardrobe teeming with sparkly jackets that poked out of the open doors, you’d have to ask him to model some of those for you at a later date.

You turned towards Copia with a timid smile. “I don’t want to intrude. This is your home.”

He rushed towards you, taking your hands in his to reassure you. “It’s your home now too. I want you to be comfortable here. Well, not right here if you don’t want. Or if you do want.”

You couldn’t express how relieved you were at how sweet he was. “I do want. For now at least.”

His face lit up. “You’ll stay here? With me?”

You nodded, matching his positivity. “Yes.”

“Wonderful, hehe.” He paused and glanced over your shoulder towards the bed. “I will go wash my face and then… then we can…”

“Consummate the marriage?” You offered with a sarcastic smile. “It’s okay, we can take it slow.”

Copia nodded before turning and disappearing into the bathroom. You took the opportunity to snoop around a little, to get a feel for your new husband some more.

In the bathroom, he washed his face meticulously, careful not to be too harsh on his skin. He wanted to look clean and fresh for you, not like a ripe tomato from being too aggressive with a washcloth.

Once he was done Copia stared at himself in the mirror, face only slightly red from where he’d scrubbed the paint away. Faint traces of black had been left around his eyes but he knew no amount of rubbing his eyes raw with a washcloth would clean it away so he left it there. His fists clenched around the edge of the basin, nerves setting in. What if you were disappointed by what was revealed to be under his paints? You said it was unlikely you would be but a part of him still worried. The day had been going smoothly, almost too smoothly, that he thought something was bound to go wrong. And what if it turned out to be his appearance.

Pushing all of that away, he realised that he wouldn’t know any of it for sure until he just went for it. So, after letting the murky grey water wash away, Copia opened the bathroom door and stepped out with an air of faux confidence that quickly dissipated.

He found you stood next to his desk, eyes scanning his book shelves as you had a good look at all of the titles. You glanced over your shoulder at him, doing a double take when you saw him. He was standing in the arch of the bathroom doorway, backlit with light that made him glow. If you weren’t a Satan worshipper you would have said he looked angelic.

Copia shifted from foot to foot as you stared at him silently. The panic was starting to set in again as you continued to say nothing. Why weren’t you saying anything? That feeling vanished when you held out a hand to him.

“Come here.” You said quietly, tipping your head back to invite him over.

He practically ran to you, taking your hand in his but still keeping his distance by a foot or so.

You closed the distance yourself, lifting your spare hand to cup the side of his face in it. “You are so beautiful.”

His shoulders relaxed, tension leaving them, as he leaned into your touch and turned his head to kiss the palm of your hand. “That is high praise coming from you.”

You shook your head playfully. “Oh, my husband’s a charmer.”

My husband. He was your husband. He liked that. “Only for you, amore mio.”

“Don’t go making promises you might not be able to keep.” You teased, warmth flooding through you at the term of endearment he’d used. “What if we hate each other?”

“I think we made a promise when we recited our vows.” He kissed your palm again before leaving one on your wrist as well, quickly making his way down your arm until it was wrapped around the back of his neck. “And I cannot imagine myself ever hating anyone as lovely as you.”

You hummed in response, not being able to form a coherent reply as his face drew nearer to yours. His free hand reached for your waist, winding his arm around you and pulling you flush against his chest. Your intertwined hands stayed connected beside you.

He looked down at you with a half smile curling the edges of his mouth. “Cat got your tongue, amore mio?”

You shook your head slowly. “Just wondering where the shy Copia of a few moments ago disappeared to.”

“Ah, well, my gorgeous wife told me I am beautiful so I decided to toss the nerves aside.” He tilted his head to the side innocently.

“Your wife sounds wise.”

“Oh, she is.” His eyes flickered downwards. “She is also driving me crazy in this dress.”

You averted your own eyes in embarrassment. “I was hoping you’d like it.”

“Oh, amore mio, I do. I really do.” Copia decided then to push towards where the night was inevitably going to end. “However, I think I’d like it even better on the floor.”

Your eyes widened at that. But you liked it. “We better get to work then because it has a lot of buttons and a lot of lace up.”

“You are in luck. I am good with that, you see.” He grinned and gestured downwards.

You followed the angle of his hands and saw that he also had a lot of lace up. Over his crotch. “I guess we can help each other then.”

“Sì.”

And with that he kissed you. It was a lot different to the one kiss you’d shared at the altar. That had been shy and slightly awkward, hundreds of people had been watching after all. But this kiss left that one behind. It was sweet and tender, just as you expected from your new husband. But it was also hungry, like he’d been waiting all day for it. Which he had.

The arm around your waist tightened as he craned his neck to meet you halfway. He tasted vaguely of the soap he’d used to clean his face but it wasn’t unpleasant. You hummed against his lips in approval which only spurred him on, his tongue now licking into your mouth. You let your hand card through his hair before sliding it down onto his cheek again, to keep his face close to yours even when you broke apart to breathe. Your connected hands swung lowly by your sides, his fingers twitching against yours and tangling them further together.

You pulled away from him, breathless, and lifted your joint hands. “Can I ask about the gloves? It’s just I noticed that you kept them on when we did the ring exchange. It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me.”

“Oh, right.” He looked down at his hand, specifically to where his new wedding ring was sitting over the top of the leather. “I don’t know really. I’ve always just liked them.”

You hesitated before answering, taking in the way he was looking at you with pure open honesty, before nodding. “Okay. Would you like to keep them on now?”

Copia shook his head rapidly. “No, I will take them off.”

“You don’t have to.” You assured, not wanting to pressure him in to anything.

“No, I will. And then you can put my ring in its rightful place on my finger. Sì?”

You nodded and stepped back a pace as he slid the gloves from his fingers. You bit back a comment about how his hands were beautiful just like the rest of him and only watched until he looked up at you again. He handed you his wedding ring and offered his left hand out to you.

“You sure? No backing out after this.” You joked.

He chuckled. “I think I signed that right away when I said ‘I do’.”

You hummed and slipped the ring onto his finger, bending down to place a kiss over it once you’d done so. “Ah, perfect. See?”

“Yes, perfect.” He whispered.

When you looked back up you found that he was looking at you. You tried not to swoon.

“Are you going to help me get my dress off now that your fingers are free from leather?” You asked to distract yourself from the way he was looking at you.

“Sì, turn around.”

You did as you were told, exposing your back to him. He unfastened all of the buttons slowly and carefully, being gentle with the fabric of your dress, before exposing the section underneath with all of the ribbons that laced up your dress.

“How long did this take you to put on this morning?” He grunted as he untied the first ribbon and loosened it.

“Too long.” You sighed. “I really needed to pee by the end of it.”

Copia huffed out a laugh, his breath fanning against the back of your neck. “All for me? Amore mio, you shouldn’t have.”

“First impressions matter.” You retorted, letting out a quiet groan of relief once the second ribbon was loosened.

He reflected back on his own thoughts of first impressions only hours previously. They did matter, he agreed. He paused when you let out another quiet groan. “Does that feel good?”

“Yes.” You sighed. “This dress may be pretty but it sure is uncomfortable.”

“Should have said something. Would have ripped it off you in the ballroom if it was going to make you comfortable.” He pulled more quickly at the next ribbon, eager to get it off you now.

“Would have been a sight for your guests.” You said over your shoulder.

“No, would have got them to leave. My naked wife is not for them to see.”

“Ah, so possessive already?” You giggled quietly.

He leaned forward and placed a kiss on the side of your neck. “Would prefer it if your body was reserved for me only, yes.”

Your eyelids fluttered shut. “It is, don’t worry.”

His hum of approval vibrated against the skin of your neck. “You’re free by the way.”

Your eyes snapped open and you turned to him again, dress falling loosely around you. You clutched at the neckline for a moment, grasping it to keep you covered. “Um, this dress doesn’t really allow for underwear. So I am actually naked underneath this.”

Copia’s eyes darkened as he glanced towards where you were pressing the fabric against your dress. “Do you want me to look away?”

“No, I was just warning you.” You clarified.

“Warning me?” He took a step closer to you, hand lifting to cover your own. “Amore mio, drop the dress. Please.”

There was only a split second of hesitation before you let go and the dress floated to the ground and created a pool of black lace at your feet. Copia tried desperately to keep his eyes on yours but the temptation was too strong. And when he looked down, there was no looking back up again.

He drank you in slowly but ravenously, eyes taking in every inch of your exposed form. When he started babbling words of appreciation to the Dark One, you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore.

“It’s only fair.” You stated before reaching for his own laces at his crotch.

Copia just batted your hand away from him, grabbing you by the shoulders and spinning the two of you around. Before you could ask what he was doing, he slid his hands down to the back of your thighs and lifted you the couple of inches onto his desk.

“Your paperwork-” You started but he cut you off.

“Don’t worry about it.” He huffed and kissed you again.

You moaned into his mouth when he started pawing at you, hands gliding over your body and squeezing at the handfuls of flesh he was finding. He seemed to be doing it more for his own enjoyment than yours. But you didn’t care, happy that he was just appreciating your body.

Your hips jumped forward when his clothed pelvis met yours, a mewl tumbling from your mouth at the friction. Copia took note of that and hooked an arm around the back of your ass and scooted you forward towards the edge of the desk.

“Did that feel good?” He asked and smiled when you nodded enthusiastically. “Hm.”

He bucked his hips towards yours again, using his hand at the small of your back to guide you closer to him and encourage your own movements. You whimpered into his mouth, desperate for more. It felt good but you needed more. You needed him.

“Copia…” You whined, hoping to get the idea across.

“I know, amore mio, I know.” He huffed, shrugging his jacket off of his shoulders. “Can you get the buttons on my shirt please?”

Your hands flew to unfasten it as quickly as possible, not questioning why he wasn’t doing it himself. Not until one of his hands drifted from your waist to your inner thigh at least. You paused momentarily, toes curling, when his thumb brushed against your clit. Watching your reactions closely, Copia did it again.

You cried out, forehead dropping to meet his chest. “Please.”

“Please what, amore mio? Tell me, hm?” He kissed the top of your head gently to encourage you, the confidence he had when performing as Papa now helping him take charge now.

“More. Please more.” You didn’t have the words to describe what you needed.

But he knew. He lifted your head with his free hand, kissing you again, before rubbing a tight circle against your clit with his thumb. The noise you made cemented what he already knew. So he did it a few more times before re-angling his hand to slide a finger inside of you.

It felt so good that you bit down on his bottom lip by accident.

“Ah, fuck, I’m sorry.” You grumbled against him.

“No apologies necessary.” He replied softly, pulling his finger back out before pumping it back in again. This time joined with a second one.

Your eyes closed in pleasure, head dropping backwards and legs circling around the backs of his.

“Amore mio, you didn’t finish with my shirt.” He reminded you in a playful tone.

Your eyes shot open again, your hands racing to get the last of the buttons undone and the garment off of him. When it was done, pushed off his shoulders, slid down his arms, his hand momentarily retracting from you to get it fully off and on the floor, you immediately leaned forward and started exploring his chest with your mouth. You kissed, you licked, you sucked, you bit, you were insatiable. Copia enjoyed your enthusiasm.

So he doubled down in his own actions, pumping his fingers into you at an even faster speed, thumb circling your clit even harder. And soon enough it had you crashing over the edge and collapsing backwards on the desk, back flattening against the piles of paperwork.

Copia licked his hand clean, sucking your essence from his skin, with a satisfied hum. He then finished undressing himself, having no trouble with his own laces, before grabbing your hips to get your attention.

You lazily lifted your head, shooting straight up when you saw what he’d been hiding between his legs. “Are all Papas this hung?”

He barked out a laugh. “Yes, it’s a requirement for the position.”

You watched as he pumped himself a few times before stepping forward and running his tip through your folds, gathering your slick to lube himself up. Your jaw hung open the whole time.

Copia rested a hand on your cheek to get your attention again. “Amore mio, are you ready?”

You nodded at him. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

He slid into you with ease, face falling to meet your shoulder as you swallowed him in. He groaned lowly at the feeling, you were so warm and wet and felt so good. You made your own desperate sounds next to his ear that he couldn’t even take a moment for himself, too eager to please you. So he pulled back out slowly before thrusting in again. Your hands flew to his back, keeping him near as your nails scratched into him. He didn’t care.

Lifting his head to see the two of you meeting between your bodies, he noticed that you were doing the same thing. He couldn’t stop himself from kissing you when you made eye contact. Thoughts ran wild through his head, wondering how’d he been lucky enough to be granted you as his mystery wife. The universe must have messed up somehow, right? No, it hadn’t. Because here you were. On your wedding night. And he was inside of you as you kissed.

The kiss made mobility difficult but neither of you wanted to pull away. Copia had an arm around your waist to keep you steady and a hand on the back of your head to keep you close. You, on the other hand, just clung onto him like your life depended on it. His hips snapped backwards and forwards at a fast pace to keep the friction going but not too harshly as to disturb the meeting of your mouths. Your tongue licked into his mouth hotly and Copia could taste the desire on you. It reflected what he already felt in himself.

“Close.” You managed to gasp out during a break for oxygen.

But Copia knew that, he could tell by the way you were clenching around him. So he didn’t switch up the pace, just kept going with what he knew felt good for you. And soon enough, he had you falling over the precipice again.

He wasn’t far behind, hips rutting forward frantically a few more times before he pulled out and spilled himself over your thighs and the stacks of paperwork you were sitting on.

You giggled tiredly at the sight and looked up at him. “It’s our wedding night and we didn’t even make it to the bed.”

He hadn’t even realised that, glancing over at his large bed with fresh sheets. “We still have time.”

The fatigue washed away at that answer. “Oh?”

Copia offered a hand out to you. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up first.”

You took his hand and hopped off the desk, following him into the bathroom where he washed your thighs off. After that, Copia led his wife to your shared bed where he planned to keep you for the foreseeable future.

A/N: me staring at the title of this fic knowing full well I already have an Obi-Wan fic titled “Absolution”. It bothers me a little but not enough to come up with a new title since this one took me almost as long to come up with as it took me to write the fic itself.

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natailiatulls07 · 9 months

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part two to lemon sherbets!! it was so so cute!!

Lemon Sherbet Pt.2

Mafia!Lando Norris x female!reader

Summary - He did it, Lando Norris did it. He managed to get her to marry him

Warning - swearing, Mafia??

A/n - This is also inspired by a scene from Legend (2015) <3

Lando had her. With much fight, Lando managed to be vulnerable for Y/n. He showed his gentle side, he always did. And in amongst Landos chaotic and dangerous lifestyle, the gangster proposed.

Today, a bright and colourful spring day, was the eagerly anticipated wedding day. Close family, friends and gangsters gathered in the small church. All dressed in the requested colourful dress code, but one.

The mother of the bride, M/n L/n was dressed head to toe in black. It was like she was attending a funeral. Sticking out like a sore thumb.

A black McLaren pulled into the small car park, Lando Norris emerging in a smart and slick suit. His usual.

Whispers were heard. Everyone immediately noticing the infamous gangster. “Look it’s Lando…”

The curly hair gangsters eyes flickered around, well aware of his surroundings. Until his eyes stopped, stopped on the mother of the bride. The only person dressed in black.

Max Fewtrell, his bestfriend, immediately walked up to Lando when he saw how his face turned to a scowl. “All right, all right”

Eyebrows frowned, Lando just stared at M/n who stared back. “She’s wearing black” He only wanted today to be perfect for Y/n and her own mother was ruining that.

“Yeah, I know I know…” All Max was doing to calm down his bestfriend, not wanting to cause a scene. “She read it wrong, hasn’t she? She thought it was a fucking funeral”

Max had grown to like his bestfriends lover, was very friendly. “Wearing black, that fucking bitch” Lando muttered, fighting off his ongoing anger.

“Don’t drive yourself mad” Lando turned from his bestfriend to look at M/n again. Still staring down at him, she had unimpressed look.

Never did she want this relationship. Always telling Y/n that he would just use her for her beauty.

Max muttered. “Wait until you see the daughter” He knew how Y/n calmed Lando down. “She looks unbelievable in white…” And he was hoping this would do just that.

The guests and the Mafia boss gathered in the chapel. Lando and Max stood at the alter, looking down the aisle. “What do you see in her?”

Lando took a deep breath, he saw everything in this women. “Well, I see…” The lad paused. “I see me self, yeah, I see…”

In that moment Max knew his bestfriend, the once shell of a man, had a heart and Y/n had full control of it. “I see what I could be. You know?” Lando continued, he had a nervous facial expression.

“If I weren’t scared”

Max stifled a laugh, his bestmate was never scared. Y/n really had an effect on Lando, so much effect. “You’re not scared of anything”

Turning for a second, Lando looked at Max. “Yeah” Their faces holding knowing grins. Both well aware of the womens effect on him.

Just outside, Y/n and Leo had just arrived in the wedding car. She was dressed in her chosen dress, flowers in hand and vail pulled down over her face.

They climbed the stairs to the doors of the chapel, where their mother stood still looking unimpressed. In a hushed whisper, Y/n spoke. “What’s she doing?”

Leo annoyed at his mother for trying to ruin the day. “Well you know what she’s gonna be saying” He knew how much their mother hated this relationship but Leo just wanted his little sister to be happy. “So just take it easy, deep breaths”

The pair had reached the top of the stairs, now face to face with M/n. “Why you not inside yet?”

Without a beat M/n spoke. “Are you sure you wanna go through with this?” Leo tried to interrupt and quieten her but Y/n stopped him.

“It’s all right, Leo…” She inhaled a deep breath before turning back to their mother. “I love him”

M/n’s eyes were piecing. “Love” There was a pause. “Do you even know what love is?”

Looking down, Y/n replied quickly. “I know it’s not an answer to anything. But love is a witness, Lando sees me” She was so used to being berated and criticised by her mother that to Y/n, Lando made her feel free and loved. “And I see him”

She shook her head. “And who are you to refuse that?”

Leaning down slightly, M/n spoke again. This time harsh and bitter. “I’m your mother.” And with that, she walked off into the chapel.

The two siblings watched their mother walking in, silence filled the air around them until. “Wow…” Leo broke the silence.

Y/n turned to look other at her brother. “What?” Confused evident.

“Nothing it’s just…” He paused and Y/n could swear that she saw tears welling up in his eyes. “You really love him, because you would never talk to mum like that…”

It was safe to say that Leo was baffled. Y/n never once spoke back to her mother, but now she had that confidence to. All because of Lando.

It was the same for Lando. He was becoming softer, just for her. More gentle and sympathetic. There was a small difference in each, but everyone could see it as clear as day.

“Let’s get you married then!”

#formula one #formula one x reader #formula one x y/n #formula one x you #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #max fewtrell #mclaren f1 #mclaren racing #mclaren #mafia au

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won4kiss · 2 months

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𖠵 . ׅ ࣪ ⌇ 𝑅𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇 𝑊𝐻𝐸𝑅𝐸 𝑌𝑂𝑈 𝐿𝐸𝐹𝑇 𝑀𝐸

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 𝓅ark 𝓈unghoon x 𝑓! reader. 𝒢enre pure angst. 𝓢ynopsis. in which you’re stuck in time grieving your lover ! 𝑤𝑐 𐙚ㅤㅤ 742 ⸝⸝ not proof read major character death car accident mentioned ⸝⸝ ୭ৎ — 𝓵𝗂𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗋𝔂 ᥫ᭡

PLEASE LIKE & REBLOG ! 𓂃

YOU REMEMBER THE DAY YOU MARRIED SUNGHOON AS IF IT WERE YESTERDAY.

the details remain vivid, etched in the fabric of your memory like an old, worn photograph.

the way the sun peeked its way in through the stained glass windows of the small chapel, casting rainbow hues across the guests.

his smile, brighter than any light, his eyes holding a promise of forever.

forever.

how naive you were to believe in such a concept, to think that love could somehow outlast the ways of life.

you stand in your shared bedroom, now eerily quiet, the echoes of his laughter still lingering in the corners. — more under cut !

the room is untouched, preserved in time, much like your heart.

you haven’t moved anything since that day. his clothes still hang in the closet, his scent faint but undeniably there, clinging to the fabric.

it was supposed to be a day filled with joy, but it ended in the cruelest twist of fate.

you were on your way to the reception when the accident happened. a drunk driver, they said.

it’s funny really, how one moment could change the forever that was in store for you.

his life was stolen from you in an instant, leaving you shattered and broken, right where you stood.

you’ve replayed the moment in your mind countless times, the sound of screeching tires, the sudden, sickening crunch of metal against metal.

the world turned to chaos around the two of you, but all you could focus on was sunghoon, his hand slipping from yours, the light in his eyes fading.

the hospital room was cold, sterile. you held his hand, refusing to let go even as the machines around you beeped in a heart-wrenching symphony.

he tried to speak, his voice barely a whisper, but you shushed him, tears streaming down your face.

he didn’t need to say anything. you knew. you always knew.

“i love you,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

“i love you so much,” he managed to whisper with a gut-wrenching smile, his grip on your hand weakening. and then, he was gone.

the days and weeks that followed blurred into a haze of sorrow and pain.

people came and went, offering condolences, their words hollow and meaningless to you.

every single one of their words felt like salt to an open wound.

you were stuck in that moment, frozen and unable to move forward.

you stopped going outside, stopped answering calls. the world continued to spin, but you were frozen in place, right where he left you.

you found solace in your memories, an escape from reality, replaying the moments you shared, the love that once felt infinite and indestructible.

your home became a place full of memories, the two of you had expected to make new ones, not to be left with them.

every object was a relic of a life that could have been. his favorite mug sits on the kitchen counter, a half-read book on the nightstand, his jacket draped over the chair.

you can’t bring yourself to touch them, to disturb the delicate balance of the past and present.

nights are the hardest. the bed feels cold and empty without him.

you curl up on his side, clutching his pillow, seeking comfort in the lingering scent of him.

you talk to him, as if he’s still there, telling him about your day, about how much you miss him.

sometimes, you swear you can hear his voice, a soft whisper in the dark, reassuring you that he’s still with you, somehow.

you visit his grave everyday, bringing fresh flowers and sitting beside him, talking about everything and nothing, basking in the silence.

the world moves on around you, but you remain anchored in that place, in that moment.

one day, as you sit by his grave, a light breeze rustles the leaves, carrying with it a sense of calm.

you close your eyes, letting the wind wrap around you like a comforting embrace.

“i’m right here, hoon.” you whisper, tears streaming down your face.

“right where you left me.”

and for a moment, just a moment, you feel him beside you, his presence as real as the ground beneath you.

it’s enough to keep you going, to remind you that love, in its truest form, never really leaves.

you’ll be okay, you tell yourself, because even though he’s gone, a part of him will always be with you, right where you left him.

taglist open ‹𝟹 @mioons @nshmuras @suneng @pnghoon @shawnyle @laylasbunbunny @privareum @briefsaladfun @greentulip

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cameronspecial · 10 months

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The First Son And The First Spare

Pairing: FSOTUS!Rafe Cameron x Princess!Reader

Warnings: Panic Attack, Swearing, Mentions of An Attempted Murder, and SMUT.

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 10.1K

Summary: Just because they are the children of world leaders, it doesn't mean that Y/N and Rafe have to like each other. But what happens when they have to get along with each other for the sake of their countries?

A/N: This is inspired by Red, White, and Royal Blue.

Masterlist

The traditional wedding march plays as Y/N watches her soon-to-be sister-in-law walk down the aisle. However, Y/N’s eyes can only see one person. She narrows in on the rude, egotistical, pain in her ass, who also happens to be the First Son of the United States. What she wouldn’t do to bash his head in with her bouquet? Unfortunately, it would be unbecoming of the Princess of England. Fiona finally makes it in front of Y/N’s brother, Prince George. The ceremony begins and Y/N feels as though time slows down. The only thing that can keep her sane is the hateful glares she sends Rafe. She prays no cameras to capture her un-Princess-like scowl. After an hour and fifteen minutes, George and Fiona kiss and leave the chapel. Y/N follows her siblings into the open air, catching Rafe’s gaze as she passes his pew.

———

Greeting guests is one of Y/N’s duties for today as well as maintaining her family's reputation. While the newlyweds enjoy a moment in private, Princesses Y/N and Amelia exchange pleasantries with all the arriving guests. “I may not be into men, but I get why girls desperately fawn over him,” Amelia whispers to her sister while waiting for the Canadian Prime Minister and his wife to approach. Y/N addresses the foreign leader with a shake of her head before addressing her sister, “Thank you for coming, Prime Minister. Who are you talking about, Lia?” The younger girl’s flicks her eyes over to the next people in line. Y/N follows Amelia’s eyeline to Rafe. She lets out a low scoff, “You have to be insane to say that.”

“Right, I forgot you have this irrational feud with him.”

“It is not irrational. It is not my fault that he likes to bother me like a schoolboy. He is immature and a playboy.”

“Y/N/N, it’s called flirting. How can you not understand that he is delicious? I mean look at those ocean-blue eyes.”

“Being annoying is not flirting. I really do not understand the attraction of him. My Phelan is handsome and gentlemanly. That is attractive. Not whatever Rafe is.”

Y/N shouldn’t lie to her sister, but she would rather be stuck in a room with her most conservative relatives than admit to finding Rafe hot. Little do the two royals know two children of a president are also having a similar conversation. “What did I do to Dad to make him send me here? He knows I hate England. Wheezie would kill to be here with you,” he mumbles to Sarah. She gives him a teasing smile, “You don’t hate this country. You hate the fact that one of its Princesses would rather be anywhere but near you.” “Please, I could care less about where Y/N wants to be,” he huffs, chancing a glance at the mentioned princess. “Funny how I didn’t need to mention her name for you to know who I was talking about. And before you try to argue, even if she likes girls, Amelia is a Princess, who can be places.” Sarah skips ahead of her brother without waiting for him to answer. He rushes after his sister to stand in front of the sisters of the groom.

“Sarah, it is lovely to see you again. Thank you for coming,” Y/N greets the First Daughter and sends her to Amelia. She turns to who is next in line, internally groaning once she sees him, “Rafe… Thank you for coming.” “What? It’s not lovely to see me, Princess?” Rafe taunts, feeling her fingers grip him tighter than necessary. She holds her head high and away from him, “You are meant to address me as Your Royal Highness.” She doesn’t say anything else; instead, she has her eyes set on the next people in line. Rafe walks toward the ballroom where the reception is being held. “How can someone so pretty have such a huge stick up her ass?” he grumbles under his breath. He thinks it goes unnoticed by everyone, yet Ms. Stick Up Her Ass hears it all.

———

Y/N’s hands rest on Phelan’s shoulder and hand. They twirl around the room in time with the music, oblivious to Rafe’s stare. The lip of the glass meets his as he takes a sip of his drink. The rum burns his throat. He doesn’t get what she sees in Duke Phelan. The pompous ass looks like a massive buzzkill. Rafe doesn’t care though. Why would he? There is no care in him for the woman in Phelan’s arms. He must admit, when he first saw Y/N, fifteen-year-old him couldn’t believe she was as beautiful as her pictures. It was the first event he had to go to with his new presidential father and she was the only person there around his age. He was in anticipation of meeting her throughout the opening. Their meeting didn’t go how Rafe planned. He had no idea what he did to set Y/N off because he was only met with an icy gaze. It was nothing like the warm glow he saw her give other teens on television or even the adults today at the Olympics. “It is a pleasure to meet you,” she quips quickly. The words were polite; the tone was not. It differed greatly from how she addressed the others. From that day on, it left Rafe with so many questions and the only ability to return her behaviour.

The song comes to an end and Phelan breaks away from her with a kiss on the cheek. “I must use the lavatory. I will be right back, Darling,” he informs her. She spends the time searching for a flute of champagne, heading to examine the cake her brother spent an exorbitant amount of pounds on once she found her drink. The flute is placed on the cake table. She doesn’t notice the other person waiting near the cake. “You looked so serious dancing up there. Do you ever have fun with that snooze,” Rafe comments, not turning in her direction. She rolls her eyes at him, allowing herself to go against decorum for him, “For your information, I have plenty of fun with Duke Phelan. Although, it is none of your business, sir.” He can detect her lies easily. He knows her tell. Her lies are given away by the slight tucking of her inner lip between her teeth. The minuscule tell keeps up with her royal appearance and is recognizable solely by people who know how to look for it.

This is the longest they have gone without sarcasm dripping from their voices, so Rafe takes it as an opportunity to have a decent conversation with her. “Do you ever think about getting married?” he asks, giving her his attention for the first time since they started talking. She gives him a soft smile, “I do. I’ve always wanted a smaller wedding, even though it is virtually impossible because I am a royal. I imagine something more intimate, exchanging vows with the person whom I love. I could pretend for once that my whole country does not place me on a pedestal.” He doesn’t mock her for her dreams like she expected, which surprises her. Maybe, they can be civil with each other. She spots Phelan in the crowd and starts to make her way toward him. Rafe spots her champagne and gently places his hand on her shoulder to point it out to her. He overestimates his strength, causing her to stumble backwards from his pull. She slips on her dress and backpedals into Rafe, sending both of them flying into the giant white cake. The buttercream and sponge of the cake paint their skin and turn them into an abstract painting. Rafe tries to get out from under her. He slips on some icing and this causes him to fall on top of Y/N. She groans at his sudden weight hitting her ribs, placing her hands on his shoulder to push him off of her. He plops to his side at the same time that Phelan comes running to her.

Phelan hands her his handkerchief to wipe her hands off prior to him helping her up. Rafe wants to laugh at the ridiculous notion of getting her to clean up before she can be aided. If required to get her standing, he would’ve picked her up by her waist without a care for the cake getting on his suit. The handkerchief is handed to a waiter and Phelan brings Y/N to her feet. Rafe stands up with no help, going over to apologize to Y/N. “This is all your fault,” she grits through her teeth. She and Phelan make their exit for her to return to her spotless manner.

———

“This is an absolute disaster, Y/N. We are supposed to be presenting a united relationship with the United States because of the upcoming deal the Prime Minister has with President Cameron,” her mother criticizes, showing the multiple headlines of the cake incident on the screen. Y/N’s head bows, “I am sorry, Mother. I will make a public apology to George and the public for wasting the money by destroying the cake.” “That will be added to the list of damage control. Nevertheless, that is not the main focus of this meeting. I called you here to inform you that you will be heading to America tomorrow,” Queen Isabel states, rounding her desk to sit in her chair. Y/N leans forward, “I am not sure I heard you correctly, Mother. Did you say that I am to be in America tomorrow?” “Yes, Y/N. You and Rafe shall pretend that you are actually the best of friends. You will appear at events and hold interviews together,” Isabel begins. “I do not care how much you both hate each other, you will act as if you love each other. Did I make myself clear?” Y/N nods at her mother’s warning, “Yes, Mother.”

———

Y/N always prefers to fly commercial flights. Her mother rarely approves of such flights, except because this flight is not in the original travel budget for the year, a commercial flight was needed to stay within budget. It allowed Y/N to feel normal for once. She could people-watch without the stares of other people, not being recognized because of her coppery-brown wig. The different hair causes people to hesitate if they think she is her and they eventually chalk her up to being a look alike. The copper colour was chosen because it stood out but not too much. She spent her flight people-watching and reading over the dossier on Rafe. It doesn’t surprise her that he is studying Business at UNC-Chapel Hill, Ward after all comes from a business background. Even with the insistence of helping her from her bodyguards and assistant, Y/N persists in getting her bags herself.

During the car ride, Drew, her bodyguard, quizzes her on Rafe for the upcoming interviews. “Where did he grow up?” Drew questions. Y/N doesn’t bat an eye, “Outer Banks, North Carolina. His father was from the Cut, which is the working-class side of the island, but with his developmental firm, he bought a house on Figure Eight, which is the wealthy side.” “You didn’t have to go through that whole backstory. You had it correct after the first sentence,” he notes. She gives him a knowing look, “You know I like to be thorough. Next question, we are almost at the White House.” “Right, who are his best friends?” Drew continues. She thinks about the question for a second, “Topper Thornton. Son of Dr. Cynthia Thornton and Cyrus Thornton, a lawyer. As well as Kelce Smith. Son of Linda Smith, CEO of Smith Enterprises, and Scott Smith, an investment banker.” “A very detailed answer as always,” he is about to come up with another question when the limo comes to a halt. “Your Royal Highness, we are here,” the chauffeur calls out from the front.

The car door swings open and Drew shuffles out of the car, holding out his hand for her. She brings her knees together and shifts her legs to hang out of the car. She looks around the North lawn to find it void of a certain presidential son. “You would think he would be here to greet his own guest,” she snarks when a fancy dark green car comes drifting dangerously close to her. Rafe exits the car with a smirk, “Don’t worry, Princess. You don’t have to be without my presence for very long.” She ignores his remark and pursues the Deputy Chief of Staff, Zahra, to where the interviews are being held.

Y/N sits on the sofa with her back straight, which contrasts Rafe’s slouched position. The first interviewer arrives with a notepad and camera. “It’s nice to meet you, Your Highness and Mr. Cameron. I’m Esther Sparks from British Times,” Esther salutes, shaking both of their hands. “It is lovely to meet you,” Y/N returns with a smile. Rafe mocks her, “It IS lovely to meet you, Ms. Sparks.” He sends a devious smirk and she brings her eyelids close together. They answer generic questions about each other by different interviewers until they each ask one question that they both use to take turns to embarrass each other. “Tell us about the cake incident,” they would each press.

“He very much wanted to try the cake.”

“She was so distracted by my beauty that she didn’t notice where she was walking.”

“He was very inebriated and he fell into the cake.”

“She was so jealous about her brother getting all of the attention.”

Each answer received a laugh from the interviewers. During the final recording, the man behind the camera actually had a different eye-widening query. He lays out pictures from the wedding. “In all of these pictures, there is a fire within both of your eyes. Is there something more than a friendship that you have been hiding?” Rafe’s water spews all over the coffee table. Y/N hides her disgust whilst responding, “That is certainly incorrect. I am in a very happy relationship with Duke Phelan. Anything you have interpreted is not based on facts.” Only the camera captures the slight waiver of Rafe’s mouth into a frown as he processes her answer. Even he won’t admit it happened.

———

Rafe waits by her bedroom door while she gets ready as ordered by Zahra. He didn’t want to escort the princess to the car, but Zahra argued that it would look good optics-wise if they went out to the car together. Right at twelve-forty-five, her door creaks to reveal the most laid-back outfit he has seen her in. She is wearing jeans with a plain pastel pink T-shirt. He has only ever seen her in formal pants, skirts or dresses. The most casual she has been in pictures is semi-formal. “Are you finished staring? We have somewhere to be,” she quips, leaving him to watch as her hair swishes from side to side. He chases after her and holds the door open to get brownie points with the media for being a gentleman. Once he catches up to her, he clarifies his reason for his earlier gaze. “I was staring because I didn’t know you owned jeans.”

“I didn’t know you kept up with my wardrobe.”

“I… I don’t. You just always dress like you are going to a wedding or something.”

“Well, I’m sorry that I can’t always dress like I just rolled out of bed. I, for one, have to maintain my appearance.”

He chuckles at her retort, “Damn, look who finally got some good bite to her bark.” Her eyes form a circle and she has to stop the small stutter in her step when he opens each door they pass for her. He has to admit he really does like her new style. She looks more relaxed and comfortable. They both slide into the car, waiting patiently to arrive at the hospital.

———

How can someone so rude be so good with children? They all sit in front of Rafe, listening to him read from the storybook. He would change his voice for different characters and the hand not holding the book would gesture wildly. The moment would be interrupted if she tried to join in on the reading, so she silently observed the scene. He really does enjoy entertaining the children. They feed off of his relaxed demeanour and return it back to him. A toddler waddles up to her, leaning back against her knees. She hasn’t exactly interacted with a lot of children, so she doesn’t know what to do with him. At this time, Rafe finishes his book and glances at the uncomfortable look on her face. He leans in, letting his lips meet the shell of her ear. “He wants to sit on your lap. Pick him up by the waist and put him on your lap.” She gives him a hesitant look, doing as he instructs. She struggles a little and Rafe helps her by gently pushing the boy onto her lap. The young child is satisfied with the result. He turns into her hold, sucking his thumb with his head in her neck.

A thought pops into Rafe’s mind that makes him reevaluate his life. Y/N holding the toddler brings up the image of her doing the same with their own children. To have those thoughts, he would have to like her and that can’t be right. He can’t have feelings for Y/N. He doesn’t even know her last name. She speaks like an old person all the time and she can’t stand him. This must be a mistake. A trick of his brain. Because there is no way that he is falling for her.

———

After a successful afternoon of spending time with children in the pediatric unit, Y/N and Rafe are heading back to the car. A pop sounds throughout the room and Y/N docks for cover in a panic. Rafe reacts on instinct, using his body to shield the crouching Y/N. Drew rushes the two public figures into a storage closet and orders them to stay there until he comes to get them. Her breathing starts to quicken, feeling like she can’t get enough air into her lungs. He hears the gasps she lets out and he grows concerned. She must be having a panic attack, yet he doesn’t know what to do. He hesitates in bringing her head to his chest and he demonstrates his controlled breathing. “In. Out. In. Out,” he mumbles, cupping her ear to muffle the commotion outside. She mimics his pattern. Her feet take a step back, “Thank you.” “No problem. I didn’t know you got panic attacks triggered by loud noises. It’s not in your file,” he voices. She shrugs, “I do not desire it to be public knowledge. It does not uphold a royal’s controlled behaviour.” “Did… did you want to talk about it?” he offers, sitting against the shelving unit.

“During my first royal tour, I was five, a gunman tried shooting my mother. In the chaos, I was knocked to the floor whilst everyone around me tried moving away,” she begins to recount. “I remember how much it hurt to feel the toes of everyone’s shoes hit against my skin. I was so scared I was not going to be found. However, I was more terrified of going back to a family that no longer had a mother. I had no idea what happened to her.” Tiny globs of water form in the corner of her eyes and he pulls her in for a hug. “Since then, loud sounds remind me of that day,” she explains. The mood in the closet holds a dark cloud over both of them. Their arms fall to the ground and their fingers gently brush against each other. He can’t think of a way of cheering her up; therefore, he tries to cheer her up by moving the conversation along.

“Why do you always sound like you have a stick up your ass?”

She chokes a little on a laugh, “What is it with you and sticks up my arse?”

“It’s always funny to get a princess to say ass.”

“That is very immature. And to answer your question, I may be the second born but I am still the first spare. If god forbid something happens to my brother or he chooses not to have a baby. I would be up to bat. No one wants a normal queen. They want an exceptional one.”

“That sounds like a lot of pressure.”

“It is but it is the pressure I was born to handle.”

There is strength within her, except he can see how this expectation is chipping away at her. His pinky reaches for hers to provide comfort, “You may be born into the pressure, but it doesn’t mean you should have to deal with it by yourself.” Before she can answer, the door opens and the both of them jump apart. Drew’s eyebrows almost met his hairline at the sight of the pair. “The scene has been assessed and it is safe, Your Royal Highness. It was a child who brought a firework for his friend. No plans of harming you or Rafe,” Drew shares, holding his hand out for Y/N to take. The connection of her hand with another man’s causes jealousy to burn in Rafe’s stomach.

———

Rafe felt victorious once he finally got Y/N to use a contraction. It was over text, but it still counted. Ever since the day at the hospital, they have been texting each other. He had asked Zahra for the princess’ number because he missed being snarky with her after she left for home. He hates how his heart tickles upon seeing her contact name pop up in a notification. Princess. His hand reaches for his phone, not being able to hold his smile in. If this photographer tells me to smile bigger one more time, then I’m going to cut my lips off and staple them to his camera. Rafe chuckles at her gruesomeness. It was surprising to him when Y/N divulged her love of gruesome movies. He couldn’t believe the prim and proper princess of England enjoyed the sight of bloody murders. It wasn’t just any kind of horror movie though. It was slasher movies that she fancied the most. She said it relaxes her, which only slightly concerned him. Come on, Princess. All he wants to do is see your pretty smile.

She sees the flash of her lock screen with a notification. She can’t respond because the photographer snaps his fingers to catch her attention. Rafe is going to have to wait. After the photoshoot is over, Y/N gets changed into her sweatpants and jumper. She remembers she has to respond to his text, so she calls him instead. “Are my ears deceiving me? Is Princess Y/N actually calling me?” he teases, lying back down in his bed. He was about to get ready for the day; this was better. She shakes her head, “I am. Not because I want to talk to you, I need to work on my American accent. I’m planning on running for President. You know so I can actually be the ruler of a country.”

“I’m hurt, Princess. And here I thought you liked me.”

“There are a lot of words I would use to describe you, Rafe. Bring liked by me is not one of them.”

“I beg to differ. If you didn’t like me, then why are we talking right now?”

“Because I am bored and for some reason, I keep getting texts from you.”

A knock comes at his door before it is opened by Wheezie. “Dad needs to see you,” she relays the message. His head flicks up to acknowledge her and he moves his phone away from his mouth, “Okay, I’ll be down in a second.” A pout forms on Y/N’s mouth. “Aww, you have to go. But we literally just started talking.” “I know. I’m sorry, Princess. I think it is a good thing though. The more you talk to me, the more and more you sound like a commoner,” he jokes. She huffs, “Haha, I’m sorry that I no longer sound like I have a stick up my arse. I bet it’s disappointing for you.” “You really are getting better at sounding more human. I’m proud, Princess,” he lets out a disappointed sigh. “I have to go now. Bye.” With no other choice, he hangs up the call to go talk to his dad.

———

After months of texting and calling, Y/N and Rafe are going to be in the same room again. Rafe is hosting his annual New Year's Eve party. All the most prominent children in the world are going to be in attendance, so, of course, Y/N would be in attendance as well. Rafe and she are on familiar terms with each other; nonetheless, she is dreading the party. The holiday season involves being cattled to different events to boost the family name and Y/N is exhausted. Any other year, New Year's Eve would be the pause in the season she needs. This year is different because of the cake incident. To make matters worse, she obviously misinterpreted the type of event this is because she is very overdressed. Her black and white plaid knee-length polyester skirt matches her blazer and with her long-sleeve button-up, she is burning up. Rafe can spot her easily in the crowd. Her outfit makes her stand out more and he loves it. He likes being able to quickly locate her.

The dancing people part to create an easy path for him. He reaches her with a smile. “I’m glad you came, Princess. I was beginning to think you weren’t coming,” he taunts, kissing her cheek as a welcome. A whirlpool stirs in her stomach. Her hand grips her forearm, “Yep. I’m sorry I’m late. There was a delay on my flight. I also overestimated the dress code and now, I feel silly.” His head moves from side to side with a comforting look. “Don’t feel silly, you look beautiful. And hey, you’re using contractions so you fit right in,” he promises, a warm hand resting on hers.

He can see through the smile she offers. It doesn’t reach her eyes, which are slightly glazed over with bags just peeking through her concealer. His mood matches hers because suddenly his happiness depends on how she is feeling. “You look tired, Princess. Is everything alright?” he presses, stepping closer so his mouth is near her ear. Her head darts up, “Yeah, I’m peachy. A little jet lagged though.” He catches the way her bottom lip appears to be microscopically pitched between her teeth. “Come on, Princess. I don’t like it when you lie to me. So please tell me what’s wrong,” he implores. She exhales, “No offence, I really don’t want to be here. New Year’s Eve is the time that I get a break from being paraded around like a float. I can settle down in my room by myself in comfy clothes and as many movies as I want.” The corner of her lips droop downwards. “Why don’t we do that then?” he suggests, holding his hand out. Her breath hitches at his proposal, “You can’t leave your own party, Rafe.” “Ehh, it’s dead anyway. Let’s go,” he insists, tugging her out of the tent and into the White House.

His room is exactly as she imagined, although with fewer Playboy posters than she thought he would have. The sheets of his bed are crisply made and a peek in his walk-in closet shows clothes hanging at an equal distance from one another. Everything is pristine and in place, which isn’t surprising for the man she got to learn more about. He guides her onto the bed and leaves a pillow-width distance between them. The click of the remote causes the screen to light and he pulls up Scream. As the clock tickets toward midnight, the pair watch one slasher film from the franchise after the other. “Okay, I get why she stays in America in the second movie. No one expects to get chased after a serial killer again. But if it were to happen to me a second time, you bet your ass that I would be moving to a remote island somewhere after the second time,” Y/N fills the silence.

He chortles, “I’m with you on that. How many times does Sidney need to get chased by a Ghostface killer before she leaves civilization? What would you bring to your remote island?” “Horror movies, a Swiss army knife and you,” she rattles off mindlessly. His head swivels toward her, “Me? What about your amazing boyfriend?” “I love him. I do. He just isn’t great with survival skills. I would die immediately if we were deserted,” she clarifies, reaching for the popcorn they popped earlier tonight. He nods, “Right. I’m from the Outer Banks, so I can fish and shit.” “Yes, you can. Ooh, look. It’s almost midnight. Change it to the countdown please,” she implores, accidentally pressing her breasts against his chest to grab the remote for him. He takes the remote out of her hand; their warm hands brush each other to make both of their breaths hitch. She pulls away as he switches the TV to display the New York Countdown. The crowd of people on the screen starts to count, watching as the ball descends.

Rafe observes how the glow of the screen lights up her face. Her voice fills in with the partygoers. He is drawn to the way her lips move. They are stained a reddish mauve that makes him wonder what it would look like smeared on the skin around his mouth. The colour makes her lips even more kissable. He has to remind himself they don’t belong to him, yet he needs to know what they feel like on his. Fireworks go off at midnight and Rafe has to take this chance while he has the excuse of a midnight kiss. The pads of his digits face her head toward him. He leans forward and their lips meet. His mind searches for signs that she doesn’t want this. A push of his chest. A shake of her head. A yell of no. They don’t come. Instead, her lips move against his. The peck he was going to give her is reworked into something deeper.

She can’t be mad at him kissing her without any warning. She saw him leaning in for the kiss and had ample time to turn him away. He would definitely respect if she said it wasn’t what she wanted. This is wrong; she has a boyfriend. Nevertheless, her brain screams that it wants to know if his lips are as rough as she thinks they are. The contact of their mouths causes her to part her two petals. He matches her actions and slots his kisser against hers. The roughness isn’t what she expected; it’s less than she imagined. His hands maneuver to her hips to shift her onto his lap. She twines her hand in the field of his hair. Even if she isn’t pressing hard, she can feel the rock forming in his pants against the growing wetness of her pussy. The moment they are sharing creates a fire within her, akin to the one he normally builds. The difference with this one is that it is fueled by passion. Her head is woozy and she believes she needs this feeling to breathe. Being with Phelan isn’t like this. What she has with her boyfriend is soft like a cool breeze. It doesn’t spark this desire for more. It doesn’t have her chasing after it.

This makes her realize how wrong this is. She isn’t with Rafe. She shouldn’t sense the urge to be consumed by him, so she has to pull away. The tint of her lipstick coats his pale skin and he is wearing it with pride. The corners of his piehole droop like a wet towel. Her head wavers from side to side, “I should go. I’m really tired.” She swings off of him and gathers her things before dashing out the door. Leaving Rafe to wonder if he has ruined everything they had and possibly could have.

———

Going back to no contact absolutely destroys Rafe. The kiss clarified everything for him. He loves her and maybe his crush on her from when he was fifteen never went away in the first place. After running his fingers through his hair in frustration for not following her out, he took a picture of the way her lipstick was practically tattooed onto his skin. This vision deserves to be remembered forever. The flowery scent of her perfume is imprinted in his memory. He flicks through the pictures as he listens to Zahra go over the different events he needs to attend in the following month. In the most non-creepy way, he wishes he had more candid pictures of Y/N. The only ones he has of her are the professional photos that show none of her personality. She looks so poised and stiff, which doesn’t show the whole of her. “Rafe, Rafe. Are you listening to me?” Zahra criticizes. He slams the phone down on the counter; nothing would be more embarrassing than getting caught looking at a picture of himself.

He has no idea how to hide his lack of attention, “Uhh, you were talking about… How I need to go to LA?” “Stop looking at naked girls on your phone. I was talking about how you are going to go to the UK again for Prince George’s Charity Polo Match,” the Chief exasperates. His interests are piqued and he scrambles out of the meeting with Zahra calling after him. He is furiously typing on his phone. Hey, I know it’s been a while since we’ve talked. I just wanted to let you know that I’m going to be at your brother’s Polo Match, so hopefully we can talk. He hits the arrow to send the text and listens to the whoosh it lets out. It doesn’t take long for the sent under the bubble to change into read. It disappoints him that no bubbles follow the change. He doesn’t know why he thought she would respond.

———

Phelan sits beside Y/N in the Royal box with his fingers laced between hers. Thousands of eyes are probably on her, yet she can only feel one burning into her skin. She glimpses at him and their orbs encounter each other. “I need to talk to you,” he mouths to her. She disregards his attempt to speak to her and faces her boyfriend. Her lips plant on Phelan’s cheeks and his cheeks redden like a cherry. She moves to the shell of his ear, “Maybe you can meet me in the equipment shed in a few minutes. I have the urge to engage in coitus.” Phelan and Y/N are never spontaneous or lustful with their sexual intercourse. Phelan prefers the privacy of one of their beds and to be the one on top. While his slow pace is sweet, it can lead to Y/N feeling a little unfulfilled by the experience and makes her wonder what more is out there. She thought that maybe this could be the opportunity for that. Phelan leans away from her with a taken-aback look on his face. “We most certainly must not do so. We are in public and it would be inappropriate,” he scolds like she is a child. The hope on her face drops and she decides she needs to get some air. She excuses herself from her sits, heading to the equipment shed as she had originally planned.

The hut is empty and smells of the hay tracked in by the riders, who were returning their equipment. Peace fills her soul. Finally, a moment without the stares of everyone on her. The rolls of the wheels cause her to turn toward the door. Is Phelan surprising her? Her teeth flash to the entering figure; they hide once she sees who it is. “What are you doing here?” she murmurs to him, not connecting their gaze. He closes the door and remains where he is standing. He fears she will feel trapped by him. “We haven’t talked since New Year’s Eve,” he expresses. She acknowledges his statement, “I am aware of that fact.” She keeps her sentences short. “I know I shouldn’t have kissed you. I’m sorry,” he apologizes with his hand on the back of his neck.

Her head bobs up and down, “Okay, I accept.” He waits to see if she will add anything. Her silence lasts. “So that’s it. I make one mistake and we can’t be friends. I get that I made it uncomfortable and I’m not trying to say it is your fault, but you kissed me back too,” he points out, taking a step forward. She stares at him, “I should not have done that. I did not enjoy it.” A longing look fills his eyes and his head dips to be close to her ear. “Then why did you grip my hair so tightly.” Her eyes flit to his lips and she can’t contain herself. She throws her arms around his neck, pulling his face to hers. He groans at finally being able to feel her against him again. His hands bring her flush against him by the waist. He asks for permission to enter her mouth with a swipe of his tongue along her bottom lip. She allows him in with a slight moan. Their feet glide on the floor and she presses him up against the door. Being in control of this situation built a fire inside of her that she didn’t know could exist. No matter how hard or how much their lips are together, she feels like it will never be enough. A loud shout from outside snaps her back to reality and she can’t believe she did this against. Once again, she leaves him alone.

However, this time, he isn’t going to let her run off again without talking about what happened. He chases after her, losing her in the crowd. When he finds her again, he can’t manage to get her alone. As the event comes to an end, she is rushing off back to Kensington Palace with her sister.

———

He couldn’t let her go another time, especially since he was already in England. It was pretty easy to get into Kensington Palace when Amelia was such a big fan of him. “Let him through, Conrad. I like him,” she orders, beckoning Rafe into the palace grounds once the guard at the gate moves out of the way. “Thanks,” he says as they walk inside. She flashes him a smile, “You’re welcome. I’m secretly hoping you and Y/N get together. I already know you guys have kissed so we are almost there.” “Your sister told you about that?” he inquires with hope. If Y/N told her sister about the moment, then she is at least acknowledging it happened. Amelia shakes her head, “No, I can just tell though. She’s my sister. I have to go, but good luck!” She heads in the other direction, leaving Rafe to search for Y/N’s room.

He finds it and knocks gently on the door. She calls out for him to enter. Her room is exactly as he expected. It is completely void of her amazing personality. The pristine appearance fits perfectly with the aesthetic that the royal employees push onto her. He wishes she would be allowed to plaster horror movie posters around the room. He wishes he could help her litter the room with pictures. Maybe they could’ve been of them on dates or kissing or being in each other's company. The political books on the shelves should be of the smutty romance books he has caught her reading when they were first getting to know each other. The room definitely needs more colour.

She is sitting at her desk, staring him down. “Why are you here?” He walks over to her, “I’m tired. Tired of you always running off after we kiss, so we can’t talk to each other.” “Both times were a mistake. I have Phelan and I am perfectly happy. I do not want to see you anymore, so please leave,” she argues. His head moves from side to side, “No. Because we need to talk about it. I know we both felt that spark and we can’t just ignore it.”

“There was no spark. And even if there was, then why would it matter?”

“Why does the spark matter? It matters because we love each other and we deserve to give us a chance.”

“I am in love with Phelan.”

Rafe chuckles, “Really?” He towers over her; his breath hitting her neck as he brings his lips to ghost the skin of it. “So he satisfies you? With his kisses? With his touches? With his dick?” He kisses down her neck with each question and she knows she should move away, except she doesn’t. She craves the feeling of his lips and wonders the type of pleasure he can bring her. “We can’t be together,” she informs, thinking about what her mother wants for her future. A future that features marrying Duke Phelan. He disagrees, “Why not? Give me one good reason.”

“My mother says I have to marry Phelan.”

“I said give me a good reason. Aren’t you tired of doing what everyone else wants? If you had to be selfish about one thing, shouldn’t it be with who gets your heart?”

“And what would you do with my heart?”

“I would help you kindle the fire that burns in it. I would show you that you deserve to be treated as more than just a spare. Because you are your own person, Princess, and that merits the freedom of choosing who you marry.”

His tone drips with care and it squeezes at her heart. Beside her sister, he is the only person who can see past her royal side. “And who should I choose to marry? You?” she teases, placing a hand on his chest to steady her slightly dizzy head. His shoulders rise to his ears, “Maybe. I mean if you want to. Not know though. In the distant, distant future.” His cheeks redden at the thought and he rubs the back of his neck. “You’re right. I want to give you my heart,” she mutters to him. “I also really want to kiss you.” He takes this as an invitation to lean in. She stops him with a finger to his lips. “We can’t do that again until I break up with Phelan. It isn’t fair to him,” she tells him. He nods, “Right, right. I’ll text you the hotel I’m staying at. Come over when you do what you have to do.”

“Okay, I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

“Sounds good. Also, don’t think that I haven’t noticed you started using contractions again. But you know what would sound even better?”

She giggles, “Get your ass out of here so I can go break up with Phelan.”

———

Breaking up with Phelan felt like a weight was lifted off of her shoulders. He didn’t understand why she wanted to call it quits on them but eventually came around to the idea. She left him alone to cry into his pillow and went to Rafe’s hotel. She had one stop to go to first. She leaves the store wearing her newly acquired purchase and bounces in her seat while she is being driven to Rafe. She practically falls out of the car and rushes to the elevator. As soon as he opens the door, she attacks him with a kiss. Their lips separate with a grin and they laugh at her lipstick smudge on him. “In case, it isn’t clear. I want to be with you because you make me feel the most alive I ever have before. Like I can be myself with you and I won’t disappoint you,” she murmurs against his lips. Rafe grips her into his arms and drags her into his room, “You could never disappoint me. You are the most amazing person I have ever met.” They continue the kiss as he falls back onto the bed with her on top of him.

Her hands go to the buttons on his shirt and start popping them out of their holes. She tugs his shirt off of him, not breaking their kiss to do so. His arms rest at the hem of her shirt and he breaks the kiss. “We don’t have to do this. I know it might be a little early. We can just watch a movie or get something to eat,” he offers. She shakes her head, “I need you, Rafe. Please, make me feel good.” His dick strains against his pants at her pleas. He loves the neediness in her voice. “Your wish is my command, Princess.” He rids her of her shirt and he almost drools at the sight before him.

Her breasts are barely contained by the dark red lace cupping it. The material barely kisses the top of her nipples. Y/N was nervous about buying this for Rafe; however, with the way he was staring at her, she determined she chose correctly. This set makes her feel confident and sexy, which contrasts with what Phelan prefers for her to wear. It was always soft pink and covered her assets completely. Very feminine and cute. She prefers this feeling over that. She gets up off of his lap to slide off her pants and he takes off his. She has to stop herself from drooling at the size of his length. Even though she has never done it before, she wants to know what he feels like in her mouth. She drops to her knees and hesitantly reaches out for his cock. He can sense her doubt, “You don’t have to do that if you don’t want to, Princess.” “No! I want to. I just never done this before,” she reveals, dropping her hand down to her side. His eyes widen, “You’ve never had sex? You should’ve told me this was your first time, Princess. I would’ve made it more special.” “I’ve had sex. It’s just… Phelan’s idea of foreplay is running a finger through my folds and then squirting lube on his dick before he pushes into me, missionary style,” she explains.

He gives her a soft smile, “I’m sorry he never made you feel as good as he should’ve. I’ll make sure you get to experience everything you want to. But that is going to be the last time you think about him because the only man you are allowed to think of is me.” He joins her on the floor and guides her onto the bed. He looks up at her, “I want to show you how good foreplay feels and then I can show you how to give me a blow job. Is that okay?” She bobs her head and butterflies fill her stomach. He takes off her matching lacey thong and her legs spread for him. She can’t wait to fill his lips against her pussy, so she eagerly shoves his face into her heat. His chuckles send vibrations through her core and she throws her head back at the feeling. He sucks on her clit, flicking his tongue at it whilst he does so.

She doesn’t know what to do with her hands, so she threads them through his hair. After a few more sucks, he moves his tongue into her hole. He laps at it like she is his final meal. “Do you like how this feels, Princess? Am I making you feel good?” he seeks her assurance as if her moans and pulls aren’t enough of an answer. She brings him back to her, “So good. More, please, Rafe.” He continues his assault on her pussy and goes back to devouring her. She screams at the feeling, grinding against his face. His hands find her hips and hold her down against the mattress. He presses his face further into her. He can fill her walls trying to grip onto his tongue, so he gives her a finger to cling to. She tightens around him as he moves his finger in and out of her, using his mouth to stimulate her clit. She adjusts to the finger and he uses another finger to stretch her out some more. This is when she starts to contract around him and a knot starts to build in her stomach. Her back arches as she pulls his hair, “I’m going to come.” Her words motivate Rafe more and he speeds up his motion to bring her to her high. Her walls relax against him and he pulls out of her. “Look at my princess all wet for me. I’m so proud of you. You want to know what you taste like because you taste fantastic,” he praises. Wonder fills her and she moves his head to hers. She can taste herself on his lips.

He comes to stand between her legs as they make out and she can feel his hard length against her pussy. She parts their lips, looking down at his hips. His dick stands tall against the bottom of his stomach. “Can I suck you off now?” she asks in a small voice. He twitches at the thought of her mouth around him, “Of course, you can, Princess. You start off doing what you think is right and I’ll tell you what I like.” He helps her stand, grabbing a pillow off of his bed for her to kneel on. Her knees rest against the soft cushion. She gently takes him into her hand and examines every inch of him. The veins running up and down his cock call to her. Her tongue sticks out from the cavern of her mouth and she traces along them. She moves from the base of his penis up to his tip.

The tiny slit on the tip is oozing with pre-cum and she kisses it. Salt fills her mouth. She peppers it with another kiss before trying to take him into her mouth completely. He hits the back of her throat and she has to pull away with a cough. Rafe lets out a low laugh. He cups her cheek and keeps her off of him for a second. “Look at my eager princess, who just wants to make me feel good with her mouth. You need to sle help you.” His hands go to theow down a little. Don’t want you hurting yourself. Here, let m back of her head and slowly direct her back onto him. With the more controlled movement, she can get a better hold of her breathing. “See, there you go. You are doing so much better. Breath through your nose, Princess,” he advises. She follows his instructions and this helps her get farther down his cock without the need to come out for air. She isn’t able to take his full size, so he continues to aid her in handling what she can fit. His dick starts to spasm inside of her mouth and he tries to remove himself from her mouth. She doesn’t let him. She grips his wrists to stop his attempt and her head continues to bobble against him until ropes of his cum release into her mouth. She swallows the salty substance and drops him out of her mouth.

She licks her lips to gather whatever is pooled around her mouth. He yanks her to his feet and brings her lips to his again. He unhooks her bra, throwing it somewhere in the room. He kisses down her neck to her nipple and starts playing with the bud with his tongue. She moans at the feeling. He uses a hand to give attention to the other nipple. The manipulation grows wetness in between her legs again. Her hand goes to try and relieve the tension. His grip halts her movement, “Nuh-uh. The next time you come again is going to be on my cock, Princess.” He spins them around, so he can flop onto the bed. “Come ride me, Princess. Take what you want.” Lava must be running through her veins because she has never been more turned on by something.

She straddles his waist and her hand goes between their bodies. The tip of his dick finds her entrance thanks to her help. She sinks onto his girth with her head thrown back. She can feel every single inch of him thanks to the position and he is hitting places within her she didn’t know existed. She anchors to his hilt, staying still so she can adjust to the feeling. “God, how can you feel this good?” she questions as she starts to raise her hips. Rafe chortles, “Because you are doing so well for me, Princess.” His tip remains inside of her before she slams herself back down of her. This is so much more different than she is used to and she loves it. She gets to set the pace. She gets to determine how hard it is. She knows Rafe doesn’t want her to think about Phelan, but she can’t help but curse him for never letting her experience this. He can tell she is driving pleasure from the harsh piercing of his cock, so he decides to show her how much better it can get. His hand grips her waist and he keeps her still. His hips buck up into her with all of his force. She lets out a pleasured scream as she jerks forward. Her hand lands on his bare chest and her nails start digging crescents into his skin.

“God, Rafe. Keep going,” she begs between moans. Rafe grins up at her, “You like that, Princess? You like it when my dick drills into you? What do you think the people of England would say if they saw their beloved princess likes to be fucked like a dirty whore?” “I love it so much, Rafe. Please, let me move,” she requests. Rafe’s grasp on her loosens a little and he helps lead her down his shaft. The combination of both their movements gets him to hit her G-spot repeatedly. She starts to constrict and a bud of pressure starts to form in her stomach. Rafe’s thumb presses onto her clit, moving in a circular motion to intensify her enjoyment.

The tension of her walls around him causes him to spasm inside of her. She senses that his end is near; regardless, she doesn’t get him to pull out. She wants to experience everything that he has to offer. He is brought over the edge before her and he doesn’t think about removing himself from her as he does so. She can feel his seeds seeping into her, continuing her descent onto him to come too. His pace doesn’t let up and his thumb presses harder into her clit. “You can do it, Princess. Come for me. Show me how tight you can get for me,” he demands. The bud inside of her finally blooms into a flower and she comes undone around him. She drops so their chests are pressed against each other. Their drive doesn’t stop, just slows down until they have both finished coming down from their high. They clutch to each other like a baby koala to a mother koala. He smoothes her sweaty hair back with a kiss on her forehead. “You did so good,” he whispers his applause. “I am so proud of you. You made me feel so good. Did you like it, Princess?” She nods in his hold and kisses his collarbone, “I loved it. I’ve never felt like that during sex before.” “Well, that’s a damn shame. Whoever left you unsatisfied didn’t deserve you,” he notes.

The couple hold each other for a few minutes, taking in the serenity of being together at last. He slips out of her and they both feel the rush of their fluid out of her. She monitors as he moves around the room. She can hear the bathtub begin to run and he returns to place her into the warm water. Y/N scoots forward to let him in behind her. He rests her back against his chest and interweaves their fingers. The silence is good for their voices after all the noise they make during sex. “Why did you hate me before we even said a word to each other?” he ponders out loud.

She shifts in his hold and rests the back of her head on his shoulder. Her shoulders meet her ears, “I don’t know what you are talking about.” She can feel the outburst in his chest as laughter emits from his mouth. “Don’t play stupid with me, Princess. I’m talking about how I almost got frostbite when you first set eyes on me.”

“Right, that. You are going to think I was a little ridiculous or hate me for what I tell you.”

“I promise I won’t. I just want to know what triggered our four-year feud. You know so that I don’t make the same mistake with the next princess I meet and I can bed her faster than four years.”

She giggles and slaps the arm wrapped under her armpits. Her mood changes at the remembrance of the topic she is about to disclose. “I hated you because you had a dad,” she speaks out into the world. His arm close in around her some more to provide her with comfort. He kisses her cheek, “Princess, everyone, at least biologically, has a dad.” “I know. Except, you had a dad when I just lost mine. I didn’t want to go to the Olympics that year. It would’ve been filled with too many memories of the person I lost because my dad used to take me,” she clarifies. “And I was right. Everything reminded me of my dad. It hurt too much to be there. However, I had to maintain my composure because the world was watching and when I saw that you were there with your dad treating you like how my dad used to treat me, I envied what you had.” He nods to show that he is still listening. “It was a stupid thing to get upset at. It’s not like you had any control over it. Then, you reciprocated my attitude and I guess we got into a vicious cycle.” He plays with her fingers, “I see, I’m sorry that you felt that way and that I didn’t give you a chance before being rude to you too. I knew you lost your father and I didn’t think about that. “You don’t need to apologize. I guess this whole thing is just a miscommunication,” she makes it out to be what it truly is. Rafe’s chin digs and lets up from her head, “Yeah, I’m just glad we cleared everything up. I love you.” “Me too. I love you too,” she concurs.

They get out of the water and wrap themselves in the fluffiest robes. Their hands are connected as they head back into the bedroom. They flop down onto the bed and he loses himself in his thought. She rests her head against his chest, “What are you thinking about?” “I hate your room,” he articulates. She lifts her face to look at him, “Why?” “Because it doesn’t have any of your beautiful personality. I mean where were your smutty books? Where were your Scream posters? Where were the other colours of the rainbow?” he justifies. Her head falls back onto his chest, “Apparently all of those things don’t match the palace’s aesthetic.” “That’s stupid. I’m going to help you add some life into your room and we can start with some of my sweaters. I want to leave you with some piece of me when I go back home,” he informs. Her eyes find the bright blue sweater hanging in his open closet. Her heart skips a beat at his offer. “I like the sound of that. I have a feeling you are going to get me in so much trouble,” she thinks out loud. “I am. I’m going to turn you into such my rebellious princess.”

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @tv3verett

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