#i was best man at carry ons wedding. like that’s how close we are

[procyonloser]

Regardless of being fraternal twins and not identical twins, Adam and Lilith had grown up attached at the hip - but cracks did start to form, the more Adam thought back on it. When Adam came out as bi, Lilith seemed a bit miffed he'd came out first. When Adam was done waiting to start transitioning, Lilith said he hadn't waited like they'd agreed to announce it together. They'd frequently crush on the same person, though Adam was more likely to come away with a date.

Except for one, the one guy Adam had liked the longest and most. Lucifer only had eyes for Lilith, but that'd made sense to Adam, as much as it fucking sucked. They were both in band together, they were in choir, they stuck to each other in their nerdy little clubs. As annoyed as Adam was that his crush liked his sister, he knew why and didn't kick up a fuss.

The problem was, Lilith knew, and when she and Lucifer started dating, suddenly Adam's sister wasn't around anymore. She said she thought it was best if they started to go their own ways, as different as they were. That'd never been a problem when they were little, Adam had thought. It'd led to a massive argument, Adam may have said things to her he regretted, especially when she started crying, but he wasn't cutting her out of his life.

He wasn't even invited to her fucking wedding.

It'd been ages since they'd sat down and spoken, and this wasn't exactly how Adam had pictured it going. With Lucifer there, looking positive and friendly as always, a little nervous, but the man was probably at least half terrier.

"So, we were hoping to at least float the idea by you, let you think about it. You don't have to decide anything, and if you want to say no, we totally understand. But, if you said yes, we'd of course help you out, since it's such a huge ask of you, Adam." Lucifer said, but Adam's ears were glazed over, and he just held eye contact with Lilith, who did not look particularly happy to be there.

"...You want my eggs?" Adam said slowly, reiterating the question. Lucifer faltered slightly, before nodding.

"Lilith and I felt something was missing, and we were talking about having children. Since Lilith can't carry..." Lucifer said, trailing off - Adam could, still had eggs and periods which sucked ass, even on HRT, but he usually controlled that with birth control. "Of course we wouldn't ask you to carry the child, we were just hoping you'd consider donating a few eggs."

Adam leaned back in his seat, looking between them. He didn't have a great history with parenting, not after what happened with Eve and his step kids. It'd left a hurt in his chest that wouldn't go away, and he'd sworn off from ever having his own.

But annoying Lilith was a chance that was hard to pass up. He was pretty sure she'd blink before he did. "So, you'd take my eggs, mix it with your dick sneeze, put it in someone else who would give birth to it?"

Lilith made a face, and mumbled something to herself. Lucifer froze but laughed awkwardly after a moment. "Uh, yeah, essentially!"

"And you can afford all that?" Adam asked, eyebrow raised, arms crossed over his chest. Maybe he should have tried to steal Lucifer from Lilith in the past.

"He made wise investments." Lilith said, one of the only things she'd said to him, flaunting Lucifer's money. Granted, she knew Adam had once thought investing in Digimon cards would be a better pay off than Pokemon, so maybe it was a fair insult.

"Nope," Adam said simply, watching as Lucifer deflated and Lilith let out a short exhale. They'd expected this. "I refuse to donate eggs, but I'll be the surrogate. If you're going to grow a kid with your twinkie filling and my egg, you're going to have to deal with me for the next nine fucking months."

Lilith's face feel in something close to horror, but Lucifer looked like it was Christmas morning. He cheered, wrapping his arms around Lilith and kissing her cheek, clearly still over the moon for her, which Adam did think was kind of sweet - but Lilith was certainly not happy with the news, which Adam figured she wouldn't be.

"This'll be great! It'll be so much better to keep this between family, and we'll be with you every step of it!" Lucifer smiled brightly, practically glowing. "And we'll make sure you're properly rewarded for all of this stress and time, this is a major sacrifice to make for your family that can't have children - thank you so much, Adam."

Adam smiled back. "Course, we're brothers in law, afterall...so, bro, when are you planning on knocking me up? You want to do it old fashion, over the hood of a car or when I'm stuck in a washing machine, or you want to yank your sea cucumber and then shove in the yogurt with a turkey baster and squirt in me. Or, do you want to be a voyeur as a doctor impregnates me?"

Lucifer's face began to fall, and his cheeks began to turn bright red.

Being a surrogate wasn't all bad, Adam thought to himself. Sure, everytime he had to speak to his sister, he wanted to bite Lilith's ear off her head, but there were moments like these ones that brought a smile to his face.

"Do you have a name picked out yet?" The woman behind the counter asked pleasantly enough, but Adam wasn't exactly a pleasant person.

"I'd have to ask my sister what she wants to name it, since it's her child." Adam answered with a grin, hand over his rounded belly. He felt the kid kick under his fingers, it always seemed to be the most active when Adam was actively being a bastard to someone. He liked to think it was laughing in there.

The face the woman made as Adam took his groceries and walked off made everything worth it.

Well, maybe he'd miss it, but Adam didn't want to entertain those thoughts. He was getting paid enough by Lilith and Lucifer to last him a lifetime, just to have the little devilspawn. Plus, after him and Eve fell apart, it's not like he wanted to act like a parent ever again.

It was just a lot of heart ache.

The baby moved again, and Adam couldn't help but clench his fingers over his stomach. He wondered what it would be named, if it would know who he was as it grew up, or if it would see pictures of him and look at it with no recognition.

Adam sat in his car for awhile longer, staring up at the darkening sky.

He'd already signed the agreement, he couldn't back out now, not when half this kid was Lucifer's baby batter. He couldn't just say no, I'm keeping it. Not without getting sued into the streets.

"I hope she doesn't name you something stupid, but I guess that isn't any of my problem." Adam said to himself, blinking his eyes hard to will away any stinging feeling in them, before he pulled out of the parking lot.

[priestfrommidnightmass]

i’m in a weird mood where i feel like regressing a little and i also want to fly through another comfort read so i think i’m going to reread carry on by rainbow rowell…

[ozzgin]

I love your reader insert stuff!! The yandere yazuka series was vvvv entertaining, I wish I had a big scary gangster to scare away my stalker lol

If you are open to requests, how about Idol!Reader x Yandere!Bodyguard. I love the trope so much, and I'm interested and what you'd do with the idea. No worries if you're not interested tho!

Best wishes

-🌟

I just finished writing it and you've got me punching the air with your prompt. It wasn't really my thing but I'm now sold. Thank you for the trope idea. :’)

Yandere!Bodyguard x Idol!Reader (I)

Short scenario featuring your bodyguard that takes his duty a little too seriously. Not that you’d mind…

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

TW: violence

(Cover from the manga “A girl and her guard dog”)

"Fantastic show tonight!"

The older man guides you in and closes the door behind him. You smile warmly and seat yourself on the sofa. He quickly follows, although at a terribly uncomfortable proximity. His legs are pressed against yours and he extends an arm behind you, pretending to stretch. You shuffle awkwardly and lock your hands in your lap. You can already tell where this is going.

"With your talent, I'm confident we could triple the number of attendants. We just need a bigger venue." He nods at you and taps your thigh with his other free hand as encouragement. You notice the wedding band digging into his skin. 

"Alas, let us not waste the evening with business talk. I'm sure a stunning lady like you has better things to do." He laughs at his own compliment and ponders for a minute. "In fact, why don't we have dinner together? I know a great restaurant in the area."

You open your mouth to speak, but are distracted by the sudden, mild pressure on your leg. Somehow, his greasy fingers have wandered further up in the time you listened to his shameless offer. You've been in this career for long enough to guess what such proposals entail. If you say no, best case scenario he presses further, calling you a stuck up bitch and reminding you who has the power in this partnership. Worst case scenario, he leaves the room and the calls and invitations to perform will gradually drop. 

Yet your situation is special, benefitting from an additional possibility. A loophole, if you may.

Should you scream? Oh, he always gets so angry when you act scared. It's an immediate trigger. He really has a soft spot for your glistening, frightened eyes. You glance up one final time at the perverted smirk silently disregarding you. If you are to be honest with yourself, you'd very much enjoy seeing it wiped off forever. Why not? You're feeling particularly mean today.

So without hesitation, you release a high pitched yell of help. The door bursts open and the hinges creak. A tall, toned man walks in, and without a word he lunges at the manager, pulling him by the collar of his cheap dress jacket. You hold your cheeks dramatically, and bat your eyelashes at your bodyguard.

"H-he tried to molest me..." you mumble between sobs.

That's all he needs to proceed. Now the real fun begins. You can hear the muffled screams of protest. The bones crack and the flesh bends under his iron fists. Standing before your bodyguard, they all end up looking like ragdolls. Comically limp and weak, folding and breaking with no resistance. It amuses you greatly.

When did it all begin? You can't remember anymore. You were in your early years and this scary looking stranger entered your little backstage room. His explanation was brief and to the point: as your fame increases, so will the threats to your safety. He was appointed as your bodyguard. You couldn't care less, so you just shrugged. 

You've always been on the playful side. Not necessarily rude, just some innocent tease and banter wherever it's well received. Seeing him so quiet and stoic, you couldn't help but try to push his buttons: changing in front of him and requiring his assistance, occasionally asking him to pick you up and carry you because you could no longer walk. Naturally you would've stopped at the first complaint, but that's the strange part: no reaction ever came. He went along with everything. You assumed it's part of the job. Celebrities aren't known for their good manners, so hiring someone that loses their temper easily would be a fast ticket to termination.

Then you had your first encounter with one of the unpleasant fans you've been warned about. You could only stare in terror at your bodyguard's feral, unhinged reaction. The unfortunate fan's face was so disfigured, you wondered if anyone could ever manage to fix it back into shape. The bodyguard was panting and you could see the sweat coating his face and chest. You were rather confident there were many other ways to deal with it and this wasn't on the recommended list. Thus you felt compelled to ask the million dollar question:

"You act like a jealous spouse. Do you have a crush on me or something?"

You kind of regretted your audacity towards a man that had just nearly killed someone. But his features softened instantly and he turned to you, wiping his forehead and straightening his collar. 

"I suppose so. Is that an issue?"

As you stared ahead, processing his unbothered act, you sensed your cheeks feverishly burning. Uh oh. You hadn't anticipated such a nonchalant confession. You thought back to all the times you stood before him, bare and flirty. Was he merely holding back his urges the entire time? Or was he finally paying you back for all the teasing? Then again, his face didn't betray any hint of humor.

"I've never heard you joke before", you decided to test the waters.

"I'm not. Why would I joke about something like this?" He gazed at you incredulously. 

As somber and honest as ever. Well, that would indeed explain why he'd let you get away with the cheeky behavior. The more you considered it, the more entranced you became with the idea of indulging in such a relationship. As a famous idol, you couldn't be seen dating anyone. One rumor of you having a boyfriend and the agency would've had your ass suspended. But no one said anything about messing around with your bodyguard. He has to be with you all the time, so no one would suspect a thing. And you could definitely expand his list of responsibilities. You'd been terribly stressed lately, after all, and an outlet to release your frustrations would be most welcomed. Your bodyguard would never refuse pleasing his beloved.

You chuckled and pulled him towards your dressing room, giddy with excitement. Something about his imposing presence, like a wild animal that had just escaped from the leash, aroused you to no end. You've had your share of crazy fans, but this was the cherry on top. 

"Should we leave?"

You're jolted out of your daydreams by his low, rough voice. Ah, you missed the grand finale. Too bad. The bodyguard approaches you, with the shirt wrinkled and the top buttons popped open under the shuffle of his vicious attack. You can feel the knot forming in your stomach.

"Not yet. You know how I get when you act like this..." You pout and look away. "You need to take care of me first."

He grins at your last statement.

"Of course. Is the sofa okay?"

You nod.

"Then let's get you undressed, miss."

Is this what they call a scary dog privilege? 

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

For the first time since they saved the world, since Steve carried Eddie out of hell, and their bat bites had healed, Eddie was finally hanging out with Steve without impending doom hanging over their heads. Robin was also there as she didn't want to miss Steve cooking, and Eddie didn't blame her.

"Holy fucking shit!" Eddie yelled, slamming down his fork. "Fucking marry me."

Steve blinked at him, blushing, and his mouth fell open. He quickly closed it and smiled.

"Okay!"

"Oh! I'll go get the book!" Robin exclaimed, clapping her hands as she ran off.

"Book?" Eddie asked. "What? What's going on?"

Robin soon came back with a large white binder with a lock on it. She slammed it on the table and pulled out a key from under her shirt, unlocking it.

"This is Steve’s wedding book. As his best man, I hold the key," Robin said.

"Wait, hold on, that wasn't a real - ," Eddie started to say.

"Ooh, some of these were definitely written before me. That's definitely Baby Steve’s handwriting. . . Ooh, I can just imagine little Stevie putting a white sheet over his perfect hair," Robin said. "So, Spring, Fall, Summer, or Winter?"

"I was thinking Fall-ish," Steve said. "Near the end of August, maybe in September. Not too cold, not too hot."

Robin closed her eyes and held a pen in the air. Where did the pen come from?

"August 30th! I feel it! Perfect day!" Robin exclaimed.

"Wait, just a goddamn minute! What are you doing?!" Eddie shrieked.

"Planning your wedding to Steve, duh," Robin said, rolling her eyes. "Now, Steve, are you sure about the groom?"

"Yeah," Steve said, grinning. "He's funny, very cute, and good with kids. Yeah, I'll take him."

"You like men?!" Eddie asked.

"Duh, babe, keep up. He's already told you this," Robin said.

"Fucking when?!" Eddie asked.

"In the hospital," Steve replied.

"When I was on painkillers?!" He asked.

"You still want Dustin to be the flower girl?" Robin asked Eddie.

"Oh, shit, that actually would be hilarious- no, nope, no way! This isn't happening!" Eddie yelled.

"Did you ask Steve to marry you?" Robin asked.

"Well, yes, but - "

"Did he say yes?"

"Again, yes, however - "

"Then you're engaged. Congratulations," Robin said.

"Ooh, we have enough money in the budget for weddings 2, 5, and 8!" Steve explained, looking over her shoulder.

"When I said that Steve should marry me, I wasn't -," Eddie said.

"Can you think of a reason why you shouldn't marry Steve?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't even know if I like men! I like women!" Eddie shrieked, running his hands over his face.

"You said something different in the hospital," Steve said.

"You mean, when I was on painkillers?!" He asked. "You're fucking with me. You guys are fucking with me."

"Babe, you seem stressed out by all this wedding planning," Steve said, taking his hand.

"I am VERY stressed out," Eddie said.

"Just let me and Robin handle it. I have been planning my wedding since I was like five, and trust me, I have never been a fan of big weddings, so it's going to be low-key and tasteful," Steve said, squeezing his hand.

"This is illegal," Eddie said weakly and in disbelief.

"Yeah, like none of us have ever done anything illegal," Steve rolled his eyes. "A marriage is more than just a piece of paper. Besides, I don't want the government at my wedding anyway."

"Fuck, yeah, me neither," Eddie said, shaking his head. "This is crazy!"

"Look, Eddie, I know this is sudden, and I know how scary it is to deal with all of this as well as speed running through a sexuality crisis. It's been a couple of months, but there were days where I sat by your bedside, hoping you would wake up, and when you did, I realized that I wanted to wake up next to you every morning," Steve said softly, rubbing his thumb. "I want to hear every single rant, even the ones where you're being as asshole. I love you, and if you really don't want to do this, then I'll back down."

Eddie looked into Steve’s hazel eyes, swallowing thickly as he imagined being married to him and waking up with him every day. He already knew that Steve could handle how chaotic he could be, how much he loved the kids despite his loud protests, and he remembered all the talks about their asshole fathers who basically abandoned them. Eddie remembered waking up in the hospital and seeing Steve’s relieved red rimmed eyes. He knew without a doubt that Steve was a partner that he could depend on.

"Okay! I've decided that I'm just going to let this happen!" Eddie said, throwing up his hand. "But I can't be domesticated! I refuse!"

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Steve grinned.

"Also, during one of the dances, we're playing Metallica!" He yelled.

"Done!"

Steve leaned over the table and kissed Eddie, who didn't waste a second kissing him back. Yeah, he liked it, and he wasn't ever going to kiss anyone else. On some level, he had known that as soon as he had slammed Steve against the wall of that boathouse.

"Oh my God! I'm marrying Steve Harrington!"

TWO DAYS LATER. . .

Eddie was sprawled out on the couch in his brand new living room when Wayne came in, back from his fishing trip. Eddie frowned as he tried to remember what he was supposed to be doing.

"So, how'd the dinner with Steve go?" Wayne asked.

"Well, the food was so good that I asked Steve to marry me, and he said yes," Eddie said. "It's on August 30th, save the date."

"You're hilarious, son," Wayne said, rolling his eyes. "You should be a comedian."

Suddenly, Steve burst out of the kitchen, looking flustered.

"Okay, I decided to be the bigger person here. I'm going to invite my parents to the wedding," Steve said. "If they don't come, they don't come. Hopper's already agreed to walk me down the aisle. Oh, hey, Wayne. I hope you don't mind, I wanted to cook for my fiancé and my future father in law. How was the fishing trip?"

Wayne stared at him, blinking at Steve and then at Eddie. Wayne sighed, shaking his head.

"Not a goddamn bite. Waste of a trip," Wayne said.

"Damn," Steve said and looked at the kitchen. "I have to check on the food. Sorry. I want to hear more about it!"

"Smells good, son!" Wayne yelled and plopped down on the couch next to Eddie.

"You accepted that pretty quickly," Eddie said.

"You can't do better than Steve. He went to hell and back for you. He never left your side. . .he loves you, and I can't ask for a better partner for my boy. . .speaking of why aren't you in there helping your fella?" Wayne asked.

"He kicked me out," Eddie pouted.

"You almost took my head off with a skillet!" Steve exclaimed.

"I nearly took him out, and he still wants to be with me," Eddie sighed happily and tucked his head into Wayne's shoulder. "By the way, when you walk me down the aisle, you can't let me fall, you know how I am."

"I would never let you fall."

Eddie smiled. Despite everything that happened, that's still happening. . .Eddie was happy, and he was getting married to the most wonderful guy in the entire world. Suddenly, Eddie sat up.

"Oh, no," Eddie said.

"What?"

"We told Dustin and the kids, but I didn't think to tell Ronnie," Eddie gasped.

"You mean, your best friend since you were eight?" Wayne asked.

"Yeah, I am in deep - "

Suddenly, the front door slammed open, and Ronnie Ecker stood there in all her long-legged glory.

"You're getting married to Steve Harrington?!" She asked. "And I had to hear about it from a 12 year old?!"

"He's 14, actually," Eddie said casually. "How was the trip from New York?"

Eddie suddenly remembered the thing Robin had reminded him to do: don't forget to tell your platonic soulmate.

[utahimeow]

even death will not do us part — satoru gojo

summary — your wedding day with satoru gojo is not exactly conventional.

pairing — satoru gojo x f!reader

warnings — slightly suggestive beginning, pure fluff, established relationship

word count — 3.9k

author’s note — for satoru’s birthday ♡ i put my heart and soul and blood and sweat and tears into this and i hope u can tell. it may be the best writing i’ve ever done, so if u read it, thank u and i love u. also it’s like extremely sappy so pls keep that in mind lol

After a seemingly endless night, tendrils of golden sunlight come crawling through the blinds. They dance over your flesh that’s dotted with soft bites from your lover, and warm it like soft kisses until your eyes peel open.

Satoru’s already awake, ocean eyes gazing at you. A wave of memories of how he touched you so ardently the night before comes washing over you. After it, a wave of heat, his lustful poetry echoing in your mind until it pools between your thighs. Finally, the heat subsides into something warm, a gentle glow which settles within your ribs.

“Good morning,” your lover rasps, voice heavy with sleep. 

You reach out to him until your hand finds his face, your fingers grazing over soft pink skin, your thumb tracing the ridge of his cheekbone. He’s slightly puffy, eyes still ever so slightly droopy, but slumber is not the only thing that simmers in them.

“Good morning,” you reply, your words hoarse yet covered in honey.

For a while, neither one of you says anything, instead basking in one another. Satoru drinks in the sight of you laying next to him, gulps and gulps and gulps it down like it’s red wine, until he’s drunk. 

“Marry me,” he says. Time stops moving and your heart stops beating momentarily. Your mouth tries to move, tries to give a response, but every word you’ve ever learned suddenly abandons your memory. 

He laughs, so obnoxiously beautiful, but within his eyes that carry a millennium of history there is only pure sincerity.

It shouldn’t surprise you this much—his question—not when Satoru had long since carved a space inside your heart, and you in his. You’d been together so long that sometimes you both forgot you weren’t married, and Satoru had a habit of casually stating things like “when I make you my wife”, because it was undisputed that he would marry you.

Still, somehow you didn’t see it coming, and not like this. Satoru Gojo was a man of grandeur–always dramatic, always making a scene, always showing off in some shape or form, whether it was you or his cursed technique. The last place you would expect him to propose was in bed at ten a.m. after a night where he made you see God himself. Although, the more you think about it, this is where he is home. Where he bears the deepest parts of his being to you and where he may shed the weight of a society that idolises him as a god. Where he can ask you to marry him as just Satoru.

“Don’t go shy on me,” he says, still amused by your disbelief. 

“I-yes. Yes, I’ll marry you,” you say, sobbing out a laugh, launching yourself into his embrace and burying your face into his bare chest. 

“What if we did it today?” he asks, his voice reverberating through you until it almost puts you back to sleep.

“Did what?” you ask.

“Got married.”

Your head shoots up, your eyes flitting rapidly over each of his nonchalant features. Once more, you don’t find a single hint that he’s kidding. “You’re insane.”

“You love me for it,” he says, his face like a mischievous cat’s. “And I can’t spend another minute without you being my wife, so please, elope with me.”

Unlike Satoru, you were never exactly one for grand gestures. He knew you never had dreams of a big fairytale wedding with hundreds of guests or a giant hall, and it’s precisely one of the reasons why he’s asking this of you.

“The higher-ups are going to be pissed,” you say, leaning in close to his face until there’s hardly a hair’s width between your noses. 

“That’s the point,” he tells you. “Is that another yes, then?”

You stare into the depths of his irises, the ones that are swimming with adoration, the ones that have never changed how they stare at you, even after all these years. Not that you had any doubts before, but suddenly you’ve never wanted anything more. The feeling settles into your bloodstream, to your bones, to the very core of your being–certainty.

“Yes, Satoru, I’ll elope with you,” you say, and then your lips are on his. There’s a million words in the way he kisses you, ones that he would never be able to speak even if he tried, so he kisses you and kisses you in hopes that you’ll understand them. He kisses you like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. It is.

You part, sorrowfully, heads spinning, but then you remember you have things to do. 

“I need to start getting ready,” you say, and you already know exactly what his response will be–a groan, a whine, and him begging you to stay in his arms for a little while longer. 

He does just that. 

“Satoruuu,” you say, mimicking the way he whines your name. “The sooner I get ready the sooner we’ll be married. Isn’t that what you want?”

He pouts for the sake of pouting, then his arms loosen around your waist and you leave him with a peck upon his lips before tossing yourself out of bed. 

You spend the next hour and something at your vanity, having never imagined that your wedding day would leave you doing your own hair and makeup.

After Satoru brings you a cup of coffee and plants a chaste kiss to your temple, he heads to the bathroom to shower, leaving you to finish getting yourself ready. When he returns twenty minutes later, he finds you standing in your walk-in closet in only your bra and underwear, looking terribly focused. You don’t need to be a mind-reader to know he wants to tell you to go as you are—he refrains, however. It’s a miracle that he’s able to.

“You should wear that white dress you have. The one with the sleeves,” he suggests, flapping his arms and immediately you know which one he’s talking about. A plain white minidress with flared mesh sleeves and sweetheart neckline that you wore to a fancy dinner once. You fish it out, and Satoru approaches you as you step into it and pull it up your hips. Wordlessly, he zips the back up, holding his breath as he does. 

“I don’t think you’re supposed to see me yet,” you quip, giggling when you turn to face him. 

“Baby, there’s nothing conventional about how we’re getting married,” he grins, giving your ass a tap as you walk past him to pick out your jewellery. 

Of course, he insists on putting your necklace on for you too, a dainty Tiffany chain with a diamond sun pendant that he gifted you for your birthday years back because he liked to call you his sun. Again, the feather-light brush of his fingers over your skin sends bolts of lightning shooting to your fingertips. It’s reminiscent of the way he made you feel a decade ago, before he had even kissed you for the first time, when his cheesy, cat-like smile would send your heart racing and heat rushing to your face. When butterflies would erupt in your belly and you felt like you were floating. For some reason you found it hard to believe that feelings like that would persist, but it is in Satoru’s blood to prove you wrong, and he did, and he does still.

You decide on a pair of glimmering white Jimmy Choo heels, but before you can even think to put them on, Satoru is on his knees, softly grasping each leg of yours so he can slip the shoes on and carefully tighten the straps one by one. It’s something that never fails to make you giddy–to make you question if you’re even worthy of this man (you know you are, after all he’d spent the last few years doing everything in his power to prove to you that he’s the lucky one between you). Still, you think it’s perfectly valid to wonder what you’ve done to deserve someone like this.

Satoru stands then, a perpetual smile upon his glossy pink lips. He’s in a pair of pressed black slacks that hug his thick, toned legs, and a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the top buttons left open (because you always tell him you like how good he looks) and nothing to cover his eyes. You’re the only person he’ll be looking at today, after all. He’d die before letting anything obscure his view of you.

He takes your hand and raises it into the air and twirls you around, his eyes drinking in every detail of you, inhaling your sweet, angelic scent, and now it’s his turn to wonder how he managed to get so lucky, as if it doesn’t occupy his mind from the very second he wakes up to the moment he falls asleep. 

He’s still unlearning the idea that he’s alone because it was all that he ever knew from the day that he was born. He’s always had friends and caretakers and people who admired him and who depended on him and who worshipped him, but he was always there at the top, the closest thing to a god that a human could be—by himself. No one could possibly understand him enough to be by his side, not really. Then one day you came along and you slithered your way into the cracks and crevices of his very being and refused to budge, and you showed him that he’s not alone, that there are people who he can trust and depend on and people who he can love. 

He never lets go of your hand, pulling you close to his chest and grinning down at you. His eyes gleam with a mischief that’s all too familiar, one that’s got you instantly suspicious.

“Please don’t hate me,” he says but it’s without any real concern. 

You have an inkling as to what he’s planning, but you don’t even get the chance to open your mouth to question him because one moment you’re standing in the foyer of your home and the next you’re outside of the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building. 

He predicts the way you smack his chest and whine out a mildly irritated “Satoru!”–it only makes him grin harder, because he knows how much you hate when he teleports you without warning, but right now he just can’t wait another moment (and neither can you) so you don’t have it in you to be genuinely displeased.

As he makes his way to the entrance, you tug on his arm suddenly to stop him after a certain realisation hits you. 

“Satoru, don’t we need a witness?” you ask. 

His eyes narrow in thought and he looks around, cartoon-like, before his face fills with resolution and he’s strolling away from the building with you in tow. 

“Excuse me,” he exclaims, and you follow his gaze to where an older couple are walking by, hands intertwined. They turn to him inquisitively, so he continues. “My gorgeous fiancée here and I are about to be wed. All of our friends were too busy today, so we don’t have any witnesses. Would you spare a moment of time for a young, smitten couple?”

You roll your eyes, but the grin smirk your lips betrays you. “We’re sincerely sorry for interrupting your day. What my insufferable fiancé here means to say is we would appreciate it greatly if you would be our witnesses.”

The couple take a glance at one another, silently communicating before they face you and Satoru once more, nodding their heads.

“It’s our day off, we were just going to walk around the city anyway,” the lady explains, her pale, weathered lips stretching into a gentle smile.

Thus, you waltz into the city hall altogether, and only now does it begin to settle in that you’re about to marry Satoru Gojo. The morning had gone by so quickly– you’d only been awake less than four hours, and during that time you never once stopped to let any of it sink in.

Now, it sinks in. All the way to your core, to the fibres and cells that make up your being. Inside your ribs your heart is swollen, filled to the brim with scarlet red until it overflows and paints everything around it, until every part of you, every seam that holds you together has been altered, touched by something that Satoru gifted you on the first day you met him.

Your lover seems to move in slow motion. Your breath is caught in your throat. It’s a dream, you’re sure of it. Then Satoru squeezes your hand, ever perceptive of your thoughts, and reminds you that it’s not. 

After gathering a pile of documents, a man in a suit takes you to a room that’s a smaller version of a court and begins to lay out the papers, simultaneously explaining each one’s purpose and indicating what you and Satoru must fill out. You provide him with your own documents–birth certificates and proof of residence, and then the two strangers who had offered themselves to you as witnesses give their signatures. 

Your officiant makes his speech in a professional language, far from the flowery words given by priests or family friends in churches or venues adorned with flowers and ribbons along every wall.

Lack of preparation means your vows are a repetition of a script written decades ago: you take Satoru to be your husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish; from this day forward until death do us part.

During Satoru’s turn, he hesitates. His eyes shine with a strange epiphany as he stares down at you. 

“...From this day forward, until the end of time. Even death will not do us part.”

There are no words in any language, dead or alive, that are adequate enough to describe the elation you experience. There is no concept, idea, or theory that would truly reveal the way that you are consumed by love for him. It runs through your bloodstream, intrinsic to your very being. 

The officiant announces that you and Satoru are husband and wife. Now you are one flesh and bone. He leans forward, kisses you, and it’s a promise of eternal devotion.

Outside of the city hall, where time no longer stands still but you still feel as though you are not inside of your body, your husband Satoru Gojo bows to the man and woman who made your marriage possible. 

Satoru Gojo does not bow. And while it is easy to attribute it to some god complex, to the product of his upbringing, as many do, those to whom Satoru has shown his soul know that it is rebellion. It is the denial of a convention he refuses to assimilate with, one he does not believe in, one which begs children to be grateful to those who have sown them as though they had the choice to be sown.

When Satoru Gojo does bow, it is not without good reason. Most often it is only when he owes someone his life—so he bows to the two strangers, whose signatures on a piece of paper mean that he is eternally yours.

Beside him, you bow too.

“Thank you,” Satoru says, then both of you straighten up to find the couple smiling before you. There is kindness etched into every line on their face, a fondness simmering in their eyes. Their arms are linked, and all of a sudden you’re looking in a mirror.

“Congratulations on your marriage,” the woman says. “I’m certain you will flourish together.”

“You know, young people are always getting into relationships, but seeing true love like what you have with one another… It’s a rare thing nowadays. Please cherish that,” the man says.

“We’ll be forever grateful for you,” you say. “Thank you.”

The four of you part, but the couple, whose names you do not know, now lives in a part of your mind that can never be erased.

The first thing Satoru does as your husband, as you walk down the streets of Tokyo with your hands laced together, is suddenly disappear into a flower shop as you pass by it, before emerging once more and handing you a bouquet of crimson carnations and white roses with a cheshire cat smile on his face.

“Your wedding bouquet,” he says.

“Oh, Satoru, they’re beautiful,” you muse, allowing your nose to absorb their earthy scent. “Thank you.”

You tug him by the hand that’s woven with yours, pulling him down to plant a kiss upon his cheek.

The next stop is a jewellery store, and you yelp as Satoru pulls you inside with him this time. 

“Pick whatever ring you like, baby,” he tells you as you stand before the glass case where thousands of crystals glimmer back at you, splayed out on a bed of white. “Just to wear until you pick your actual one.”

Blood warms your face. It’s not meant to be a brag. Even if he didn’t have generations of wealth in his bank account, he’d buy you as many rings as you wanted until you found the perfect one. For you, he would find a way.

Your eyes wander over every diamond, over gold and silver and platinum, and it’s not long at all before they all start to look the same. Not wanting to spend your entire wedding day inside a jewellery store, you land on a simple diamond-studded silver band and point it out to Satoru.

“That one?” he asks. 

You nod, a satisfied smile making your lips curl.

Satoru flags down the jeweller, a thin woman with shiny skin, requesting the ring you want. She tells him each of the five diamonds weighs 0.2 carats, making the ring a total of one carat, as if it’ll make a difference to either of you. He doesn’t ask her for the price, but she tells him it’s 550,000 yen—practically theft for someone from the Gojo clan. 

After picking out a matching plain silver band for himself, you and Satoru leave the store and continue strolling through the city. To everyone else, you look like no more than an enamoured couple like the millions of others in Tokyo, and while a part of Satoru feels like he wants to wander up to random strangers to brag to them that you’re his wife, another part cherishes this little secret between you two.

From the day he was born, Satoru Gojo’s wedding was to be a grand affair. Sorcerers from far and wide would gather to witness the expansion of the Gojo clan. It was to be a several day-long event, planned intricately by the higher ups without room for any say from the bride and groom. Satoru did not want that—not for himself, but especially not for you.

Now he laughs as he imagines the higher ups’ faces when they realise he has not only married but eloped behind their backs. Though he thinks he’ll keep his left hand in his pocket the next few times he pays them a visit, at least for a few weeks.

“What?” you ask. His grin spreads from his face to yours.

“Nothing. Are you hungry?” 

“Ugh, yes,” you say. Suddenly your empty stomach becomes even emptier, howling agonisingly loudly.

“Sushi Go?” 

“Please.” 

The nearest one is ten minutes away. When you get there, you sit in a booth next to the conveyor belt, with Satoru insisting on shoving himself into the seat next to you rather than across from you. As soon as his heat radiates into you, however, you feel like melting into him.

After ordering almost the entire menu despite your scolding, Satoru finds the ring boxes and pulls them out of the ribbon-tied bag from the jeweller. He takes your left hand, gently, as though you’re made of glass, and slides the glittering ring onto your fourth finger. He brings it to his lips, then his velvety lips kiss just above where the ring rests.

“Beautiful,” he says. He’s looking at your eyes, not the ring.

You twist it around your finger, lungs empty as it catches every ray of light that comes its way and tosses it back at your eyes. 

“It’s a little big, but I love it.”

“I’ll get you the perfect one, don’t worry,” he says. “To make up for no engagement ring.”

“You make me sound so materialistic,” you quip, taking his hand into yours and slipping the matching silver band onto his bony finger.

“Just spoiled,” he corrects.

You narrow your eyes at him, but it turns into hearts not a moment later. He makes it impossible.

“I love you, Satoru Gojo,” you say, holding up your hands as you lace your fingers together with his.

“I love you,” he says, and the smug, cocky front vanishes, and he bares himself, his true self, to you. “More than anything in this world. I’m gonna prove it to you every single day from now on.”

Your giggle is drenched in fondness. “You already do that.”

“Then I’ll do it even better. This is a promise of that,” he says, thumb stroking over the ring he put on your finger.

His eyes don’t hold an ounce of hesitation, of questioning, of doubt. Only truth.

Your food arrives, and you wish you could say you feel bad about how overtly gross you and Satoru are being, feeding sushi rolls to each other with twinkling eyes, but everything inside you is screaming with euphoria that you can’t bring yourself to care. 

You wipe a drop of soy sauce from the corner of his lips, and he stares at you like you put the sun and the stars and the moon in the sky.

Not to your surprise, you and Satoru don’t finish all of the food he ordered. One of the waiters offers to box up the leftovers, then returns with two paper bags and hands them to your husband, whose unoccupied hand takes yours once more.

He decides he wants to take you to the park. He’s not sure why. It just feels right, and all you want is to spend time with him, so you tell him the park sounds perfect. It’s only another fifteen minute walk, anyway.

When you get there, the emerald lawns are teeming with families, couples, friends. Children run as if they can fly, dogs chase after tennis balls like it is their life mission. Satoru whisks you away from it all however, taking you into the trees.

Nestled amongst the Japanese chinquapin and zelkovas, a cherry blossom spreads its branches out like arms, its blossoms like pink fingertips that flutter as the wind swims through them. Satoru sinks into the cushion of grass at the base of the tree, leaning his broad back against the trunk. Like a cat, you find your way into his lap and rest your head upon his chest, next to his heart. The way his arms wrap around you is instinct.

Sparrows and finches flit about the branches, dancing as they move from one tree to another. Two turtle doves perch together, huddling into the other even though the air is warm.

Even if you and Satoru do not stay bound together in this life, if death takes you or him early, one thing you know for certain—you’ll find him again in another life. Right now, however, you have him in this life, and nothing else matters.

dedicated to @ushiwhacka and @tetsuskei <3 i love u both

[misspygmypie]

Meet & Greet... and more? Pt. 10

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader Words: 2434 Click here for Part 9

Please do not repost, thank you, and leave some feedback :)

Lando and Y/N stood in the Norris family living room and Y/N felt her heart racing as she looked at Lando. They had discussed how they would share this countless times, yet now that it was happening, the magnitude of it all was overwhelming. Sensing her nervousness Lando squeezed her hand, reassuring her in a silent way.

Adam and Cisca sat across from them on the sofa. Cisca, always intuitive, had sensed that something significant was about to unfold. “So what’s going on?” she asked with a curious smile. “What’s the big secret?”

Lando exchanged a quick, comforting glance with Y/N before crouching down beside Noah. The 5-year-old had been busily playing with his toy car but he knew it was his moment to shine. Lando leaned in close and whispered, “Are you ready to tell Grandma and Grandpa the special news?”

Noah nodded eagerly, his small face lighting up. They had practiced this moment together and now, with Lando by his side, he felt confident. With a little nudge from the young man Noah stepped forward, clutching his toy car tightly in one hand.

The room grew silent as Noah looked up at Cisca and Adam, who he started calling his grandparents a while ago, his eyes wide and bright. “Mummy and Lando are getting married,” he announced proudly, his voice carrying across the room.

For a brief moment the room was still, the words hanging in the air. Then Cisca gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as her eyes filled with joyful tears. “Oh, my God! That’s wonderful news” she exclaimed while Adam’s face split into a broad grin and he immediately stood up to embrace Lando and Y/N. “Congratulations, you two,” he said warmly, pulling them both into a tight hug. “We’re so happy for you.”

Cisca quickly followed, wrapping Y/N in a tight, heartfelt embrace. “Y/N, we’re so thrilled to officially welcome you to the family,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion and sincere. She then turned to Lando, her eyes shining with pride. “And you, Lando, we couldn’t be prouder.”

Lando felt a wave of relief and happiness as he hugged his parents. He had always known they would be supportive, they both loved Y/N and Noah already, but seeing their joy firsthand was overwhelming. He looked over at Y/N who was smiling through her own tears and felt his heart swell with love.

Meanwhile Noah, basking in the praise and attention, grinned proudly. He had done exactly what Lando and Y/N had asked him to and seeing the joy on everyone’s faces made him feel like the hero of the day. Cisca noticed and knelt down to his level, wrapping him into her arms. “And you, my little love, you did such a great job telling us,” she said, kissing his cheek. “You’re going to be the best ring bearer ever.”

Noah giggled, nodding enthusiastically. “I’m gonna carry the rings,” he declared, making everyone laugh.

“You’ve got yourself a great little family here, son,” Adam directed at Lando, “We’re so proud of you both.”

Lando felt his throat tighten with emotion as he looked at his parents. “Thanks, Dad. It means the world to us to have your blessing,” he said, his voice thick with feeling.

As the initial excitement began to settle they all moved to sit together in the dining room. Cisca, ever the hostess, hurried off to the kitchen to bring out the dinner she had prepared and soon they all sat together enjoying the meal.

“So, have you two thought about any wedding plans yet?” Cisca asked, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “A date? A venue?”

“We have a few ideas, but nothing’s set in stone yet,” Y/N said, feeling the butterflies return at the thought of all the planning ahead.

Lando nodded. “Yeah, we’re thinking of something intimate, with just close family and friends,” he added. “But we wanted to share the news with you first before making any big decisions.”

Cisca smiled warmly. “Whatever you choose, I know it’ll be perfect,” she said. “And if you need any help with the planning, I’m always here.”

Adam nodded in agreement. “We’re just happy to be part of this journey with you,” he said, reaching over to squeeze Y/N’s hand. “And Noah, too,” he added, ruffling the boy’s hair. “You’re going to be a very important part of this wedding, young man.”

Noah beamed, clearly pleased with his role in the family’s plans. He was already imagining himself walking down the aisle with the rings, feeling both proud and a little grown-up.

After the hearty meal Noah, tired from his big moment and the excitement of the evening, began to grow drowsy. He had been sitting on the floor by Lando’s feet but now, as his eyelids drooped, he climbed onto the sofa and snuggled up to Lando. Without a word Lando gently lifted him onto his lap, wrapping an arm around the boy as Noah rested his head on Lando’s shoulder, his toy car still clutched in his small hand.

Y/N watched them with a soft smile, her heart full as she saw the bond between her son and Lando. It was a perfect moment, one that captured the love and warmth they shared as a family.

Eventually, with Noah fast asleep on Lando’s shoulder, Y/N and Lando decided it was time to head home. They exchanged final hugs and goodnights with Adam and Cisca, who were still beaming with happiness. “We’ll start planning soon,” Lando promised as he carefully stood up, cradling Noah in his arms. “But for now, we just wanted to share this moment with you.”

Cisca nodded, her eyes still shining with tears of joy. “We’re so glad you did, darling,” she said, giving them both one last squeeze. “You’ve made us so happy.”

As Lando and Y/N stepped out into the cool night air, with Noah softly snoring against the young man’s shoulder, they both felt happier than ever. The night had been perfect and now, with the blessing of Lando’s parents, they were ready to start planning the rest of their lives together.

“We did it,” Lando whispered to Y/N as they were walking to the car, leaning in to kiss her temple.

Y/N smiled up at him, her heart full. “We did,” she replied, glancing at Noah. “And Noah was amazing.”

Lando laughed softly, nodding in agreement as he carefully placed Noah into his car seat. “Didn’t expect anything else,” he said, watching as Noah stirred slightly but remained asleep, his small face peaceful.

During their drive to the hotel Lando squeezed Y/N’s hand, his eyes flickering to her with nothing but love. “Thank you,” he said softly. “You and Noah are my everything.”

_____

A few weeks later Lando stood on the balcony of his apartment in Monaco, gazing out over the Mediterranean Sea. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the city. It was a perfect evening, one he had carefully planned but his mind was filled with thoughts and a bit of anxiety as well. He had been with Y/N for over a year before getting engaged two months ago and tonight he was going to ask her and Noah to make a huge decision.

The three of them were spending the weekend in Monaco together. It was the first time Y/N and Noah had visited since their relationship had gotten more serious and Lando wanted to show them why he loved it so much here.

They had explored the Old Town, visited the nearby beach and even took a boat ride around the harbor. Noah had been particularly fascinated by the yachts, his eyes wide with wonder as he asked Lando all sorts of questions about them.

He loved them both more than anything but he knew this wasn’t just about them. It was also about Noah. The little boy had his life back home, friends, a school he liked, a neighborhood he was comfortable in. Lando had seen the joy in Noah’s eyes when he played with his friends and the last thing he wanted was to take that away from him. But Lando also knew that Monaco could offer them a wonderful life, one full of new experiences and opportunities.

Y/N walked up beside him, leaning on the balcony railing. She looked out at the view, a soft smile on her lips. “It’s so beautiful here,” she murmured, her voice calm yet thoughtful.

Lando turned to look at her, his heart starting to pound. “It is. And it could be our home.”

Y/N glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. She had a feeling where this conversation was heading but she stayed quiet, letting Lando find his words.

“I’ve been thinking a lot,” Lando began, taking her hand in his. “About us, about our future. I love you, Y/N and I love Noah like he’s my own son. These past few months have been the happiest I’ve ever been and I want more of that, every day, for the rest of our lives.”

Y/N smiled, her eyes softening as she squeezed his hand. “I love you too, Lando. You’ve been amazing to us.”

He took a deep breath, his nerves getting the better of him for a moment. “I want you and Noah to move here, to Monaco, with me. I know it’s a big change and I know Noah has his friends and his life back home but I believe we can make a beautiful life here together. I want us to be a real family, all of us under one roof. No more traveling around just to see each other for a few days or hours. We can be together all the time, I would come home to you two instead of having to travel to see you.”

Y/N’s smile faltered slightly as she thought about it. She had always known this conversation would come but now that it was here she couldn’t help but feel the weight of it. “Lando, I love you and I love the idea of us all being together but I’m worried about Noah. He’s still so young and his friends mean the world to him. He’s just started to really settle in at school. What if moving here is too much for him?”

Lando’s expression softened as he saw the concern in her eyes. He had thought about this a lot and he understood her fears. “I know it’s a big change,” he said gently. “But I think Noah’s stronger than we realize. Kids are adaptable and I’ll do everything I can to make sure the transition is smooth for him. We can find a great school here, one where he can make new friends. And I promise I’ll spend as much time with him as I can, making him feel comfortable and at home. We’ll visit his old friends whenever we can and they can visit us too. It’ll be different but it doesn’t have to be hard.”

Y/N bit her lip, still unsure. She wanted to believe him but the thought of uprooting her son’s life was daunting. “But what if he feels lonely? What if he struggles to make friends? It’s such a big move, Lando.”

Lando cupped her face in his hands, his eyes filled with love and determination. “Y/N, I’ll be here with you every step of the way. We’ll do this together, as a team. I know Noah will need time to adjust and there will be challenges but we’ll face them together and I’ll make sure he never feels alone.”

Y/N looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and the love in them. She knew Lando was serious about this and he was ready to do whatever it took to make sure Noah was happy and comfortable in their new life.

Before she could respond they heard the sound of tiny feet pattering toward them. Noah came running out onto the balcony, his face lit up with excitement. “Lando, Lando! Can we go see the boats again tomorrow?” he asked, his eyes wide with anticipation.

Lando grinned. “Of course, buddy. We can see the boats every day if you want.”

Noah’s face lit up even more, his joy contagious. “Really? Every day?”

“Yep, every day. And you know, if you lived here, we could see them all the time.”

Noah’s eyes widened with surprise. “I could live here?”

Y/N watched as Noah’s excitement grew, her heart caught between her love for Lando and her concern for her son. But seeing how happy Noah was at the thought of living in Monaco, she began to wonder if maybe, just maybe, Lando was right. Maybe they could make this work…

With a deep breath, Lando decided it was time for a little extra persuasion. “You know what else would be fun?” he said, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “If we moved here, we could get a dog!”

Noah’s eyes grew even wider, his mouth forming a perfect “O” of surprise. “A dog? Really?”

“A dog?!” Y/N chimed in as well, clearly surprised at the suggestion.

Lando nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! We could go to the shelter and pick out a puppy together. It could be your new friend in Monaco. What do you think?”

Noah bounced with excitement, his little fists clenched in glee. “I want a dog that can play with me!”

“Lando, you’re only suggesting this because you want a dog,” Y/N shook her head.

The man chuckled. “Guilty,” he exclaimed and placed a soft kiss to her temple.

Y/N chuckled, her heart warming at the sight of Noah’s excitement. She turned back to Lando, seeing the genuine happiness in his eyes. “A dog would be a big responsibility but I think it might be a great idea. Noah would love it.”

“We’ll make sure it’s the perfect dog for us,” Lando’s smile widened, and he pulled Y/N into a gentle embrace. “And it will give Noah a new friend to help with the transition.”

Y/N looked at her son. She saw the joy in his eyes and the hope that Lando’s proposal had ignited. “Okay, let’s do it. Let’s move to Monaco and get a dog.”

Lando’s face lit up with pure joy as he scooped Noah up into his arms, spinning him around with laughter. “Thank you, Y/N. I promise you, we’ll make this the best adventure ever.”

______

Stay tuned for Part 11! Sorry this is late, I'm coming down with sth and I'm not happy lol

Tag: @barcelonaloverf1life @remmysthings @poppyflower-22 @vickykazuya @hadids-world @ririyulife @deafeningunknowntyrant @lexiecampos @littlegrapejuice @eloriis @yawn-zi @landossainz @taliya8346282844eliviahdgdajs @casuallyeating @jaydensluv @destinyg237 @il0vereadingstuff @lnchicagosreads @alana4610 @hc-dutch @cherry-piee @wisestarfishbouquet

[preiyers]

♱ HUSBAND!LUIGI MANGIONE HEADCANONS

WARNINGS: a tiny bit of smut!

A/N: highkey self indulgent cus i Need that mad so effing bad

♱ the two of you met through a mutual friend who was telling you about how her guy best friend hasn't been a relationship since he was in college

"THAT guy has been walking around single for years? how is that possible?"

and she just responds with him being occupied with his hobbies and work.

♱ was extremely nervous when asking for your parents permission to propose (if you have siblings, he def asked them too!)

♱ he proposed to you on your 4th valentine's day together while the two of you were at a park, painting portraits of each other

"okay hun, you ready? here's mine," you handed him the painting and he put it by his face with the biggest smile on his face. "alright your turn!"

he takes a breath and then hands you the painting, "okay look," you open your eyes as he places it in your hands and tears instantly well in them as you read it. through your peripheral vision you see him going down on one knee at the side of the table, with the ring box in his hand.

"y–yes, yes i do!" you watch him put the ring on your ring finger.

♱ the both of you decided you would prefer traveling the world instead of spending thousands to feed a hundred people

♱ the two of you had a small wedding with immediate family invited at the park close to your shared apartment and both your parents brought potluck food

♱ would always insist in carrying your bags whenever you went even when it was just a tiny purse

♱ needs to have his hands on you at all times. may it be holding your hand, a hand on the low of your back, an arm around your shoulder and the likes

♱ on your first night in paris, you two had fine dining and he couldn't resist himself the moment you guys got to the hotel. you were so sure he got you pregnant that night

"you're just so beautiful," he said in between thrusts, holding your body closer to his, now you were chest to chest. "i can't believe you're my wife."

♱ hates spending money on unnecessary things (underconsumption king) but would likely buy you something expensive once in a while like a necklace, a charm bracelet with your favorite things, the dress you’ve been eyeing for a while. just know that man buy anything to make his wife happy!

♱ buys you a bouquet of flowers every sunday or every time he ran some errands

♱ when you go on a night out with some friends, he takes you home and helps you get out of your clothes to do your night routine

♱ when it’s that time of the month or during the early stages of your pregnancy, he’s always there to take care of you and buy whatever you were craving that day

♱ plans your dates and even surprises you that he still wanted to celebrate your month anniversaries

“babe, that’s the date we started dating, not even our wedding anniversary date!” you chuckled at him and he still answers back with the usual, “i don’t care, i still want to celebrate how long we’ve been together,”

♱ used to be afraid of letting you know when he experiences his chronic pain as to not seem weak to you when the two of you were still dating but now that you’re married, there’s like a routine for you now when it happens. either getting him into the shower with warm water or massaging his back with cooling oils

♱ his exterior is all big, tough guy who loves being active but behind closed doors, he just loves being a gentle and cuddley guy to his wife

TAGLIST !

@fuckitiloveyouu @meikoismartha @strawbxrryaxolotyl @ilovetoomanymen @onlyangelicc

comment if u wanna be added <3

[lovesturni0l0s]

FLUFFMAS DAY 21/22: chris realizes he does want to get married

seeing his gf as a bridesmaid makes him realize that maybe getting married wouldn’t be so bad

wc: 1.1k

lmk if u wanna be tagged 🫶🏻

a/n: so sry this didn’t get out yesterday i was super busy 😭

dividers by the lovely @bernardsbendystraws

chris’s POV:

I had never understood the hype around weddings, or even the need for them honestly. It all seemed like too much fuss and stress for one day, and if I wanted to spend the rest of my life with someone I didn’t need to declare it in front of hundreds of people that I didn’t really like.

But when Y/N asked me to be her date to her friend’s wedding, where she was a bridesmaid, I couldn’t say no. Not to her. Even if I didn't enjoy weddings or having to get all dressed up I was gonna go and pretend to have fun because I knew it would make her happy.

On the day of the wedding I showed up to the venue a little early so I could find her before the ceremony began. I texted her telling her where I was so she could come find me, knowing I would get lost looking for her on my own.

“Chris!” I heard her call from behind me and when I turned to her my jaw fell in shock. I had seen her dressed up before but not like this and I was in awe of how gorgeous she looked. I stood frozen, staring at her as she walked up to me laughing, “Hi handsome” she smiled.

“I am the luckiest man alive” I smiled as I gently grabbed her waist, pulling her close to me, “You look absolutely stunning baby.” I smiled at her. “Thank you love” she blushed, “you clean up pretty nice handsome.” She said as she adjusted my tie. “Only for you” I winked, “As much as I would love to stay with your corny ass I do have bridesmaids duties I gotta get to so I’ll see you in a bit.” She said as she kissed me before heading off.

I managed to find a seat with some of Y/N’s friends that I had met a few times and caught up with them while we waited for the ceremony to start. Once the ceremony began my eyes were immediately locked on Y/N as she gracefully walked down the aisle with one of the groomsmen.

She was carrying a small bouquet of flowers in her hand and her smile brightened when we locked eyes across the rows of people. Throughout the entire ceremony my eyes never left her. In their vows the couple talked about their love for each other and how they couldn’t wait for the start of the rest of their lives.

Listening to their vows as I watched Y/N I knew she was it for me, as I saw her smile at her friend, her eyes flicking to mine for a moment, I wondered how I had ever not known I wanted to marry her. She could have a fancy castle wedding with a thousand people if she wanted, and I would be there with a smile on my face, grateful to be loved by her.

We spent the rest of the night dancing and laughing with her friends under twinkly lights that made her eyes glow. “You are so beautiful.” I said quietly as she wrapped her arms around my neck as we swayed to a slow song. “Thank you my love.” She smiled, kissing me gently. Her glowing presence captivated all of my attention.

The next day I found a jewelry store and with the help of her best friend I found a beautiful ring that I hoped she would love. When I came home, the ring tucked in my pocket, she was still asleep in bed. “Morning pretty” I whispered as I laid back down next to her, pushing her hair out of her face.

“Mhm, morning” she whispered, half asleep, “I brought you coffee and your favorite muffin” I smiled, knowing she’d wake up. “Food” she said as she stuck her hand out, eyes still shut, “kiss first” I teased as she slowly opened her eyes. “No gross I have morning breath” she groaned, hiding her face, “and I don’t give a flying fuck” I laughed as I leaned over, kissing her gently before handing her her food.

I laid with her as she slowly woke up, with the help of her coffee and muffin, “We got plans today, I need you to put on one of your pretty sundresses and be ready in two hours.” I told her, “What are we doing?” She asked, “that’s for me to know and you to find out baby.”

Once she was dressed and ready I took her to a secluded spot on the beach, “What are we doing Chris?” She asked, confused. “Well I know the beach is your favorite place so I figured this was the perfect spot” I smiled at her confusion, “perfect spot for what?” She asked, laughing.

“To ask you to spend forever with me” I smiled as I got on one knee, pulling the small velvet box out of my pocket. “Chris?” She said in shock, her hand flying to her face to cover her bright smile.

“Y/N, I have spent the last three years of my life having the pleasure of loving you and being loved by you. You have become my favorite person and everyday I learn something new about you that makes me fall even more in love with you. You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, inside and out, and when I saw you standing at that altar yesterday I knew I would be an idiot if I didn’t marry you. Nothing in this world would make me happier than spending the rest of my life with you so Y/N, will you marry me baby?” I asked, smiling up at her through tears.

“Yes! Oh my god! Yes I’ll marry you Chris!” She said as she choked through tears while I slid the ring on her finger, wrapping my arms around her waist as she clung to me. “Oh my god! I love you so much, holy shit!” She laughed in disbelief as I held her tight against me.

Nick, Matt, and her best friend burst into cheers, as she turned to them, smiling in shock. “I knew you wanted someone to take pictures and I figured who better than Nick?” I smiled as she wiped her tears. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you Chris.” She smiled as I kissed her, her lips pulled up into a smile against mine.

And even though I always said I would never cry at my wedding, when I watched her walk down the aisle towards me, I couldn’t help it .

tags🫶🏻: @bernardsbendystraws @colorthecosmos444 @sturnihoelooo @endereies @matts-myloverboy @hoes4matthew @sturniololuv08 @emely9274 @obsessionsarenotfortheweak @lovergirl4gracieabrams @conspiracy-ash @h3arts4harry @17twelch17 @iluvchriswglasses @prettyybunnyy

[satoruswifeyyyy]

satoru gojo is the type of husband to... (headcanons)

masterlist

requested by @haruhatake

warnings: mild sexual content ⚠️

satoru is the type of husband to buy you flowers randomly, no occasion needed. “just felt like reminding you how much i love you,” he says with a wink, handing you the prettiest bouquet while looking smug about how flustered you get.

satoru is the type of husband to still go on “first dates” with you. he’ll dress up, show up at the door with flowers, and say, “so, can i take my gorgeous wife out tonight?"

satoru is the type of husband to “accidentally” leave his clothes in your closet so you end up wearing them. when you call him out on it, he just grins and says, “you look better in my shirts anyway,” before pulling you in for a kiss.

satoru is the type of husband to constantly call you his “wife” in conversation, just to see you blush. “my wife is so beautiful, isn’t she?” he’ll say to anyone who’ll listen, absolutely overjoyed to be married to you.

satoru is the type of husband to hog all the blankets at night, only to wrap you in them five minutes later because “you looked cold.” he’ll cuddle up close and mumble, “can’t have my wife freezing on me.”

satoru is the type of husband to be ridiculously proud of you for the smallest things. “you parallel parked perfectly? amazing. my wife’s a genius!” he’ll say, clapping like you just won an award.

satoru is the type of husband to sing horribly off-key in the shower, then pull you in to dance along when you laugh at him. “come on, you know you love me,” he says, spinning you around while still dripping wet.

satoru is the type of husband to still “accidentally” lose your things, even after marriage. “oh no, your work bag? gone. guess you can’t go in today,” he’ll say, grinning as he pulls you back into bed. “looks like it’s a stay-at-home-and-cuddle day.”

satoru is the type of husband to greet you every single morning with a kiss on your forehead, a smile on his face, and a, “good morning, my gorgeous wife. how does it feel to be married to the most handsome man alive?”

satoru is the type of husband to still hype you up every chance he gets. whether you’re wearing a casual outfit or something fancy, he’ll whistle dramatically and say, “wow, i can’t believe i get to call you my wife.”

satoru is the type of husband to send you texts throughout the day, even if you’re just in the other room. random things like, “thinking about you,” “you looked extra cute today,” or “wanna come kiss your husband? he misses you.”

satoru is the type of husband to randomly pull you onto his lap while you’re working, wrapping his arms around your waist and saying, “i’m feeling neglected, babe. don’t i deserve some love after marrying you?”

satoru is the type of husband to still leave little love notes everywhere. you’ll find them in your bag, stuck to the fridge, or even on your pillow. “i love being married to you,” one will say. “best decision of my life,” reads another.

satoru is the type of husband to walk around the house shirtless just to get your attention. and when you roll your eyes, he’ll smirk and say, “what? just giving my wife a little eye candy.”

satoru is the type of husband to show off your wedding ring to everyone. he’ll casually rest his hand on the table during a meeting or flash it while paying for coffee, saying, “yep, married. my wife’s a total catch, by the way.”

satoru is the type of husband to insist on carrying you to bed when you fall asleep on the couch, no matter how tired he is. “what kind of husband would i be if i let my beautiful wife sleep uncomfortably?” he’ll tease, tucking you in gently.

satoru is the type of husband to constantly find excuses to cuddle. “it’s part of the marriage contract,” he’ll say, pulling you onto the couch and wrapping you in his arms. “unlimited cuddles for life.”

satoru is the type of husband to get way too into decorating your home. “we need more pictures of us,” he’ll say, hanging up cheesy couple photos everywhere, then grinning proudly whenever guests come over.

satoru is the type of husband to buy you flowers randomly, no occasion needed. “just felt like reminding you how much i love you,” he says with a wink, handing you the prettiest bouquet while looking smug about how flustered you get.

satoru is the type of husband to leave love notes hidden all over the house. you’ll find them in your bag, under your pillow, or even stuck to the fridge. they’ll say things like, “you make my world brighter,” with little hearts doodled around the edges.

satoru is the type of husband to show up at your workplace just to take you out for lunch. “i missed you,” he says simply, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

satoru is the type of husband to insist on giving you massages after a long day. his hands might wander a bit, though, and when you call him out, he’ll grin and say, “can you blame me? you’re irresistible.”

satoru is the type of husband to steal kisses whenever he can. passing by you in the hallway? kiss. sitting next to you on the couch? kiss. he’s shameless about it and loves watching you get flustered.

satoru is the type of husband to plan the most extravagant anniversaries. one year it’s a romantic getaway, the next it’s renting out a rooftop just to stargaze with you. “nothing’s too much for my wife,” he says, grinning.

satoru is the type of husband to keep your wedding photo as his phone wallpaper, even years later. when you tease him about it, he shrugs and says, “it’s the best day of my life. why would i change it?”

satoru is the type of husband to still flirt with you like you’re newly dating. “has anyone ever told you you’re the most beautiful woman in the world?” he’ll say with a smirk, even when you’re in sweatpants and messy hair.

when you are pregnant, satoru is the type of husband to press his ear against your belly, grinning like a fool while saying, “i think the baby just said ‘daddy’s the coolest.’ did you hear that? it’s official now.” when you roll your eyes and laugh, he’ll kiss your bump and whisper, “don’t worry, baby, mama’s the coolest too.”

satoru is the type of husband to get way too excited about baby shopping. he’ll come home with three strollers, five sets of tiny sneakers, and a ridiculous amount of baby clothes, grinning as he says, “i couldn’t decide, so i got it all. our kid deserves the best, right?”

satoru is the type of husband to kiss your belly goodnight every single night, no exceptions. he’ll cuddle up to you, his hand splayed protectively over your bump, and mumble, “you’re both my favorite people in the whole world,” before falling asleep with a soft smile.

satoru is the type of husband to pout dramatically when you tell him he can’t have sex during certain stages of the pregnancy. “but babe,” he whines, “i’ve read about the pregnancy glow. how am i supposed to resist you when you look like an actual goddess?” and he’ll sulk until you laugh and give him a kiss.

satoru is the type of husband to leave little sticky notes all over the house reminding you how amazing you are. “baby’s mama is the hottest woman alive,” “drink water, you gorgeous queen,” and “you + me + baby = dream team” are just a few of his gems.

satoru is the type of husband to go overboard with pampering during your pregnancy. foot massages, midnight snack runs, and holding your hair back when morning sickness hits—he’ll do it all with a smile. “anything for my girl and our baby,” he’ll say, pressing a kiss to your temple.

satoru is the type of husband to constantly tell everyone, everyone, that you’re pregnant. “this is my pregnant wife, isn't she absolutely stunning? our baby gets to have the best genes, right? i can't wait.” he’s practically glowing with pride.

satoru is the type of husband to plan an elaborate gender reveal just because he loves celebrating you. “blue or pink, doesn’t matter,” he’ll say with a smirk, “but if the baby looks like me, they’ll be extra cute.”

satoru is the type of husband to suggest ridiculous baby names just to see your reaction. “how about gojo jr.? or infinity? oh, i’ve got it—six eyes!” and when you throw a pillow at him, he laughs so hard he almost falls off the couch.

satoru is the type of husband to still worship your body, even with all the changes. he’ll trace his fingers over your stretch marks and kiss every inch of your skin, whispering, “you’re perfect, you know that? every part of you.”

satoru is the type of husband to get extra handsy when you’re pregnant. he’ll cuddle up behind you, hands resting on your bump, and say things like, “our baby’s in there because i couldn’t keep my hands off you. can you blame me?”

satoru is the type of husband to insist on taking maternity photos with you. he’ll pose with his hands on your belly, grinning like a kid, and say, “i want the whole world to see how beautiful you are.”

satoru is the type of husband to have slow and gentle sex with you when your pregnancy hormones act up. the sex is solely for your pleasure only and he doesn't even bother to cum, he is just happy that his wife gets to have the best orgasm possible, "i am so good at this." satoru will say, stroking your exposed and sweaty tummy.

satoru is the type of husband to randomly burst into tears when he feels the baby kick for the first time. “did you see that? our kid’s already so strong!” and he’ll immediately try to capture the moment, his excitement contagious.

satoru is the type of husband to make you laugh even during the tough times. when you’re feeling down, he’ll kiss your tears away and say, “you’re the strongest person i know. we’ve got this. and if anyone can handle me and a baby, it’s you.”

satoru is the type of husband to overreact more than you, during your labour. he will scream more than you, panicking during the delivery. "oh my god, the baby's coming already!? ahh, fuck, i am not ready!"

satoru is the type of husband to start planning for the next baby as soon as the first baby is born. he will approach you, who is lying on the hospital bed after the tiring labour, with your babygirl in his arms and sit by your side, cuddling you and your baby. when the silence grows too comforting, he will say, "when are we having our next kid?", earning a slap from you.

A/N: hi everyone, i know i have been inactive but hear me out- tests are ongoing and i am very busy? like i have economic applications tomorrow but i somehow managed to complete this. okay so i will not be posting smaus till the 20th. i think i will post another fluffy drabble this week, if i get the time but please bear with me, i will be active again after the 20th of december.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the soaring arrow

fused with the foe, chapter two

a/n: we getting somewhere in this one... progress... and by progress, i of course mean that we are one chapter closer to when they finally get to be happy and in love.

summary: “…do you still wanna learn?”

warnings: king!steve rogers x reader, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, slow burn, innocent!reader, violence, gore, injury, weapons, big scary dire bear, a bit of a cliffhanger of an ending to this chapter (the drama is here, it has arrived, in the majestic for of [spoiler])

word count: 4706

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Rising yet again from the plush stool, your feet carried you the short distance back around to the opposing seat. Your elbow came to rest against the edge of the small games table as you glanced down at the chequered board and your chin swiftly found your propped-up palm as a bored breath seeped from your lungs. 

As you moved one of the ivory pieces, the thoughts you’d been trying to keep at bay for weeks slipped through ever so slightly. The king hadn’t talked to you since the wedding, in fact, whenever you’d been in the same room with each other, his gaze never found you. 

You might as well have been invisible.

The arm beneath your face slowly melted down till it layed flat against the table and you let your head follow along. Slumped over, your cheek pressed against your forearm. 

Raising your gaze from your up-close perspective of the chess pieces, it fell upon the man leaning 

against the wall by the exit. Dark locks only half tied up, a crossbow was strapped to his broad back as his stormy gaze stayed low and locked on the small dagger he absentmindedly twirled and flipped in his fingers.

Letting out another sigh, you didn’t bother straightening out before you asked, “so, is this just how it’s gonna be?”

Halting his fiddling, Barnes’ eyes met yours, “pardon me, your majesty?”

“You just lurking wherever I am, is that how it’s gonna be for the rest of my life?” you lifted yourself only slightly so that both of your palms pressed into your soft cheeks to prop it up. 

“No, I’m just here till you get settled, then I’ll go back to my usual business,” the advisor stated. 

“And when will that be?”

“I don’t know, your majesty,” he sheathed the short blade at his side, “why? If it’s because you don’t care for my presence then please just say so, I won’t be offended if you’d rather have a different warden looking out for you.”

“No,” you sat up properly, “it’s not that, not at all, I just–… could I maybe go for a walk?” the question hesitantly left your lips. 

“Sure, you can,” he nodded slightly, “where do you wanna go? I could show you the Valarian Ward in town, there are lots of museums there you might like–”

“No,” you cut his offer off, “I meant if I could go for a walk on my own.”

“Oh… well, I’m not entirely sure that’s the best idea…” he uttered carefully. 

“I am your queen, aren’t I? So, can’t I just command you to let me go by myself?” you tried, blinking up at him like a little puppy, “please, Barnes.”

A low sigh then flowed from his lips as his stare raked across the floor. A moment passed before he opened his mouth again, slowly saying as his gaze stayed averted, “your majesty, I am gonna leave for a moment, I suddenly remembered that I forgot something in my chambers this morning. Please excuse me as I momentarily won’t be here watch where you go,” his eyes flicked up to meet yours, “you got that?” 

“Yes,” a bright smile stretched across your features, “I understand what you’re saying,” as you instantly shot up to your feet, “thank you, Barnes.” 

Though half regretting his choice already, he still offered you a half-hearted smile, “you’re welcome, your majesty.”

Bending down, you plucked a long-stemmed daisy and added it to the bouquet of wildflowers your left fist was tightly enclosed around. As you lifted yourself back up, your vision washed over the blossoming meadow you stood on, located on the hill directly north of the castle. From here only parts of the seaside community were perceivable, as from this angle the mountainous fortress blocked off the vast majority of Borün city, only the edges closest to the main road, like the city stables and the water mill, caught your gaze. But the farmlands that curved over the rolling hills west of the town had no obstructions in their path. The vision of golden fields as well as wide pens that housed both fuzzy brown cows and round little sheep, that blissfully soaked in the mild afternoon sun, couldn’t help but bring a smile to your lips. 

Peeking over your shoulder, the warnings of the king’s right-hand man faintly echoed in your mind as you glanced at the thick forest. Temptation had swayed your feet to carry you dangerously close to the edge. The Noll woods didn’t seem that dangerous from this angle, perhaps it was safe enough on the perimeter and it was just the dangers deep within it that they were so terrified of. So, the next thing you knew, your leisurely stride had crossed the meadow and the dark wilderness had swallowed you whole. 

Extending an arm as your feet slowly walked over the crunchy leaves and the pillowy moss clusters, you felt the cool leaves brush against your open palm, almost as if you were greeting each and every one of them as you passed. The chirping birds high up in the dense treetops sang a pleasant melody that caused a bright smile to bloom on your lips. 

You weren’t sure how long you ventured forth, deeper and deeper into the twisted forest, but eventually, a small and speckled bush caught your eye, ripe with the vibrant berries you recognised from the layered cake that you had been served for tea just a few days prior. The fabric of the long burgundy cloak you wore billowed behind you as you rushed to pluck the small fruits. A soft hum vibrated at your lips as you tasted their tart sweetness, popping them in your mouth one by one. 

Though just as your head was up in the clouds, over the moon about this little slice of paradise you had discovered, a low growl emanated from the tall shrubs just behind the berry bush. Your fingers froze in an instant and the fruits in your berry-stained palm rolled to the ground. Slowly, you raised your gaze as a giant snout pushed through the dense plants and the creature’s rotten breath fanned across your cheeks, causing your stomach to churn. 

Holding your breath, petrified with fear, you willed your feet to shuffle back at a terrifyingly slow pace. Your entire body trembled like a leaf on the wind as your eyes stayed glued on the dark animal slowly creeping into the clearing. 

A bear, though at least three times the size of any normal one, came stomping into the light. Its footsteps were heavy enough to make the forest floor quake. Long and gnarly teeth curled up over its drooping lip as viscus slobber, and what looked like blood, dripped from its gums, staining the blades of grass below with every hefty step. Nowhere on its scarred skull were something that resembled eyes, so as it sniffed loudly, your hair nearly rustling in the gust, the blind monster detected precisely where you stood.

A snarl rumbled out from its toothy maw as it clawed closer to you like a predator playing with its food just before it pounced. Eclipsing the dabbled sunlight that streamed in through the tree canopy, the massive creature blocked off any chance you had of escape. The petrifying roar it then let out caused your hands to instinctively shoot up in front of your face. 

Falling back, you collided with the thick tree trunk right behind you. Adrenaline pumped so furiously throughout your body that the tree almost felt like a pillow, as your body was so filled with terror that it didn’t let you notice any of the pain. 

Through your shielding fingers, you caught sight of a swift movement, though it wasn’t the ravaging bear before you. From out of nowhere a broad figure suddenly appeared, slipping in between you and the creature. 

Your eyes widened as you saw the king hold a shield up high, groaning from the strain as he blocked the monster’s mighty attack. Drawing a stout axe at his belt, he sliced it low, catching one of the bear’s legs and causing it to reel back enough for him to bash the shield against its snout, sending it back a few paces. The arching blows he then landed on the gnawing beast were a brutal blur to your eyes as he didn’t yield till the monster was slain and its blood stained the mossy forest floor. 

Slowly turning to face you, crimson dabbled his features and tainted his beard as he stared you down and roared, “what the hell were you thinking?” his broad chest still heaved from the battle as he took a step closer to you, “you’re not in Obelón anymore, you can’t just wander off!”

“I–… I’m sorry,” you said weakly, your eyes felt heavy as you stumbled to distance yourself from the tree trunk, “I didn’t–”

“You didn’t what?” inching closer, he sheathed his weapons, “think you’d bump into a dire bear? What if it had been something worse, huh? What then? Do you have any idea of what kind of dangers lurk in these shadows?”

Black spots dappled your vision as you just managed a faintly utter, “I’m s-sorr–,” before you collapsed. 

As the king caught you in his arms, your cloak unfurled to reveal the silks of your gown ripped and peeking out from the shreds was a grave wound on your waist. 

When you finally woke up, you weren’t in the forest any longer, but warm under the covers in your own bed.

You weren’t sure what you noticed first, the familiar surroundings or the sharp sting that throbbed at your side. Wincing silently, you pulled down the blankets and saw the clean cloths that bandaged the injury. As you carefully ran a fingertip over the dressing, a figure at the foot of the bed caught your hazy gaze. 

Slumped over on a small stool with his head resting against his folded-up arms, there sat the king, completely out cold. 

A clay pitcher of water stood on the adjacent bedside table beside a few empty cups that had a deep green tint to the glass. Carefully, as to not rouse the slumbering monarch, you reached for the jug in order to quench the thirst that scratched at your throat. As your fingertips brushed against the handle and moved it just a tad, an aching wave suddenly washed over you as the attempt stretched and disturbed your injured waist enough for you to recoil back, accidentally tugging at the decanter in the process and retroactively knocking over one of the nearby glasses.

As soon as it smashed to the stone floor, the king bolted up like he’d been struck by lightning. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” you rushed as you clutched your throbbing side and leaned back against the pillows, “I just wanted something to drink.”

Still groggy, he sucked in a breath as he squinted over at you in the bed, “don’t move,” his voice was deep from sleep, “I’ll get it,” and he reached over to fill up the glass that didn’t fall to its doom, “here,” handing it to you, his eyes stayed on you as you took a sip, “how are you feeling?”

Lowing the drink to your lap, you watched the water ripple gently in the glass as you uttered, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking I’d run into any monsters, I just wanted to see the forest. I’ve never been in a real forest before, so I just–… I’m sorry…”

A low sigh flowed from the king’s lips before he asked, “how are you feeling, dove? Does it hurt badly? Because I can fetch you some herbs if it does.” 

“It’s not pleasant, but I’ll manage,” as you always did. Your pain tolerance was through the roof when it had to be, “I’m sorry.”

“Would you please stop apologising?” your tense gaze finally flickered up to meet his, “I understand you wandering out on your own, I even understand you wanting to explore the forest, but what I don’t understand is why you didn’t bring a weapon with you. I know you don’t know too much about this kingdom, but you must have a basic understanding of just how dangerous it is, especially The Noll Woods. So why didn’t you bring anything to protect yourself with?”

“What?” you blinked, “I don’t own a weapon.” 

Eyes widening, his brows shot up, “you don’t?” 

“No…” you shifted lightly under his gaze, “why are you looking at me like that?” 

Leaning forward slightly, he asked, “dove, do you not know how to fight?” 

“Why would I know how to fight?” 

“Why would you–…” he echoed faintly before lowing his gaze to the blankets spread out on the canopy bed, “gods, I knew that Obelón’s high walls helped protect its people from many creatures, but I know even that doesn’t stop the citizens from knowing the basics at least. Why didn’t you ever?” he found your eyes once more, “you’re of royal birth. Why haven’t you been in lessons since you were a child?” 

Shifting your grasp around the glass, you uttered, “…my father wouldn’t let me…” your brows were still deeply knitted as you said, “I thought it was improper for fine ladies to have such skills.” 

“It’s not,” he shook his head, “trust me. Some of the best fighters I’ve ever known were fine ladies such as yourself.” 

“Really?” you couldn’t help but inch forward a bit. 

“Yeah, my mom for one taught me a lot of what I know, as well as–…” an unreadable expression briefly washed over his features as his sentence suddenly crumbled, “well, others…” 

“I always wanted to learn,” you thought back, “used to spy on my brothers when they were training, even tried to convince Callum to teach me in secret, but none of it ever worked out… my dad always found out and then he’d–…” your gaze stayed locked on the outline of your legs beneath the covers as you felt a shiver run down your spine, “I, uhm… I learned to stop doing that. Going against his rules.” 

After he helped you place the glass back beside the pitcher, the king’s deep timbre filled the chamber once more, “…do you still wanna learn?”

The gentle wind kissed your cheeks as you squinted your eyes at the circular target close to the ivy-covered outer wall of the front courtyard. Though the training area stood nestled between the warden’s barracks and the royal stables, the king’s right-hand man had ensured that there wouldn’t be as many people crowding the common area as there usually were, a gesture you’d become thankful for as the act of learning an entirely new skill was intimidating enough without having the added commotion of experts in the field directly next to you, granting you the perspective of just how green you were. 

Over countless days, bedridden in your chambers, the wound to your side had scabbed over and healed nearly completely. Though the wait was significant, it hadn’t felt that dreary, since at the first dawn you woke, the king’s presence had been exchanged for a tall stack of meticulously selected books. The majority of them were factual records about Eflorr, the land, the history, everything that had been out of your fingertips in the library of your birthplace. But occasionally in between the tomes of the kingdom were books of completely different genres. There was a wide and worn book of fables that had whimsical illustrations on each page, a pocket-sized novel counting the mystery of a fictional rogue, as well as a collection of flowery poems. 

Letting the nocked arrow fly, it didn’t pierce itself into the bullseye your eyes were boring a hole into, but instead joined the cluster lodged in the ground. 

“I am never gonna get this,” you muttered, nearly tossing the training bow from you. 

“Oh, don’t lose hope yet, your majesty,” you twisted your neck to see Barnes standing by the small, open-style stables adjacent to where you stood, petting the cheek of the black horse that stuck its head over the fence, “you’ve only been going for a few days.” 

Drawing another arrow from the quiver not yet strapped to your back, but simply resting on the small stool scooted close, you attempted once more, and though it didn’t hit the target, the arrowhead did wedge itself in between two of the stones on the wall behind it. 

“Not bad,” your body jumped at the unexpected voice, “you’re getting closer.”

Spinning around, you saw the king, arms crossed and leaning against the building directly behind you, “your majesty!” your eyes grew to the size of saucers, “h-hello.”

“You need to relax your bow arm more,” he pushed himself off of the wall and walked up to you. 

“What?” you blinked, still slightly stunned and scrambling to catch up to the fact that he was even there. 

“Here,” he stepped up behind you and a sharp breath of air filled your lungs as his touch found the limb clutching the bow, “you need to relax this arm,” his presence ghosted against your spine as his touch adjusted your appendage to the proper angle, “and lower it just a bit,” plucking up an arrow, he too nocked it for you and let his fingers linger over yours as you drew the string back tight, “use the corner of your lips as an anchor,” as the feathery fletching tickled your cheek, you could have sworn that you felt his curled knuckle shyly brush against your features as well, “and since you’re not very brawny, try and keep a bit of tension right here, it’ll help,” his hand slid down to your waist, the other palm briefly joining on the other side before he let go of you. You could feel the gentle gust of his breath on the shell of your ear as his low voice instructed you, “give it a try.”

The arrow then soared through the air and lodged itself into the outermost ring of the target, “oh my gods,” you squealed, your body victoriously wiggling at the sight, “I did it!”

“Atta girl,” he smiled at the result, and you turned your head to gaze back at him, the fact that he hadn’t shifted back yet caused a shiver to crawl up your spine, “see? I knew you could do it,” his eyes finally flickered down to yours, though when the close proximity dawned on him, only a second passed before his feet began to move, “anyways,” clearing his throat, his vision now seemed to wander over anything but you, “uhm… good job,” he offered your upper arm a small pat, “keep it up,” then turned to the high warden still off to the side, “Buck, I need you to take a look at something for me, up in the war room.”

Giving the horse one last scratch, Barnes answered his friend, “sure thing.”

“You know the king well, correct?” you asked the soldier as he walked with you down to breakfast. At this point, you’d gotten fairly used to Barnes acting as your shadow.

“You could say that,” the corners of his lips curled up in a soft smile, “my mom was a servant here at the castle, so I essentially grew up alongside him. Then as soon as I was old enough, I joined the wardens, partly just to stay at his side. So yes, I do know him well,” he nodded slowly, “I know him very well.”

Rounding the corner, you walked down a long hallway with windows facing out toward the sea all along the right wall. Motes of dust hung suspended in the morning sunbeams that spilt into the hall, perfectly still, like flakes of gold leaf trapped in resin.

Glancing over at him once more as you stepped through one of the golden rays, you slowly opened your mouth once more, “can I ask something?”

“You can ask me anything you’d like,” he met your eye. 

“Does–…” you hesitated a moment before averting your gaze to gather up the courage to utter, “does the king have someone else?”

Gently cocking his head, Barnes echoed, “someone else?”

“Does he have someone else?” you repeated, sensing heat creep up in your cheeks.

“Oh, uh,” he breathed as you reached the end of the hallway and he stretched out his arm to push open the door you’d arrived at, “no, not that I know of.”

As he opened the door to the smaller of the dining rooms for you to enter, you noticed that you’d been unconsciously gnawing at the inner part of your bottom lip till it nearly bled and you forced yourself to stop, “alright…”

When you crossed over the threshold, Barnes stayed put on the other side, though offered you a small nod before the heavy doors fell shut behind you. 

Turning to face the long table centred in the chamber, your eyes suddenly grew wide as an unexpected figure sat on the far end. 

“Good morning,” the king glanced up at you as he popped the piece of strawberry lodged on the tip of his fork into his mouth. 

“Your majesty! I–, I–…” you blinked a second, finding it impossible to get your feet to move the last few paces over to your set place, “I thought you took your breakfast up in your personal chambers.”

“Felt like a change in scenery today,” he plucked up a porcelain cup filled with steaming tea and brought it to his lips, though paused before taking a sip, “is that alright?”

“Of course, it is,” a shudder ran through you as you shook yourself out of your stupor and sat down at the table. 

A generous spread of options layed arced around your empty plate. From seasonal fruits, cut up and arranged on an oblong platter, to hearty bread, sliced and toasted, propped up for it to stay crisp, the selection never ceased to make your belly rumble in want. 

When your plate was filled up and you slowly began to pick away at it, the king’s voice suddenly echoed from the other end of the table. 

“Are you busy this afternoon?”

“Busy?” you lifted your gaze and sent it down past the short floral centrepiece to look at him, “no, your majesty, not in particular. Why do you ask?”

His elbow was propped against the edge of the table and his hand gently rested against his beard as he continued to stare at you, “I was wondering if you’d care to promenade with me.”

“I know it doesn’t look like much from this angle,” the king pointed to the dark cave entrance on the cliff that the castle stood upon, “but that emergency exit has saved countless monarchs.”

“So, the tunnel leads up to the basement?” you glanced down to the part of the coastline still a ways further down the pebbly beach.

“Yep, opens up into the wine cellar, it’s actually one of the racks that’s concealed as the door down.”

Glancing up at him as you slowly walked beside one another, an amused smile curled up on your lip, “clever.”

“Yeah, my mom thought so, she was the one who implemented it.”

The corners of your lips then dropped back down, and you waited a second before asking softly, “when did she pass?”

“A while ago now…” his vision briefly flickered down to look at the waves foam at the shore, “anyways, I’d recommend taking a guide with you if you’re gonna go exploring in the cave because it can be easy to get lost if you didn’t grow up with it as your playground.” 

“I’ll remember that,” a faint chuckle bubbled out of you.

The pebbles crunched beneath your slow stride as you made your way down the beach, closer and closer to where the fort loomed and the docks beyond flourished into the bustling city. 

After he’d bent down to pick up a smooth, dark rock, the royal then spoke in a slightly apprehensive tone, “hey, I actually wanted to talk to you about something…”

Noticing that his stride had halted, you stopped as well, “yes, your majesty?”

His gaze stayed on the small rock in his palm as he turned it a few times, “I know I haven’t exactly been the warmest towards you, I haven’t given you any solid reason to trust or even like me,” his ocean eyes then lifted to meet yours, “but we are supposed to rule together, be a team. So, I propose that we call a truce. Let’s start over and try and be friends,” his broad hand then extended. 

Clasping your fingers around his palm, you shook on it, “truce,” and a small smile bloomed as you then returned to your walk.

Your eyes didn’t stray long from him, staring at him inquisitively till he, on a glance, noticed.

“What?”

“It’s just,” you squinted over at the man walking beside you, the water gentle and calm behind him, “I don’t even really know you…”

“Well,” he breathed, as if that setback was easy enough to remedy, “what would you like to know?”

“I don’t know…” as you continued to stare at him, your fingers absentmindedly fiddled with the opalescent stone attached to the chain hanging from your neck, “tell me everything.”

“Everything?” his eyebrows raised a second before he exhaled lowly, “alright… uhm,” he then lowered his gaze as he scrambled his brain, “my favourite colour is blue. I can’t stand pears,” he began to list off, “I know I don’t look it now, but I was a very scrawny kid, sick all the time. I’m excellent at skipping rocks, actually learned how to just down there from an old family friend. What else… uh, I don’t have a lot of free time, but the little I do, I tend to either read, history in particular, as well as draw or paint, whenever I have the chance.”

“Paint?” you chuckled as that was one of the last things you thought he’d say. 

“Yes,” he nodded, “not many, but a few of my pieces are strung up around the castle.”

“I will have to keep my eye out for those, your majesty,” you smiled. 

“Oh, and please, no more of that,” he pleaded, “you shouldn’t call me your majesty any longer, we’re friends now,” he momentarily turned to toss the rock into the rippling sea, and a small ring bloomed on the surface as it delved in, “you are my wife,” the corners of his lips tugged upwards as he faced you once more, “you should call me by my name.”

“Alright, Steve,” the name felt oddly intimate on your tongue, “I’ll try my best to do better.”

As he smiled down at you, a shadow suddenly soared across the sky above both of your heads. Lifting your eyes to the clouds above, they swiftly went wide in fear as you saw the creature that flew straight towards the village. 

“Oh gods, is that a–”

“Dragon,” Steve uttered before you could. 

The winged behemoth of a beast had scales like the darkest tree bark, but in the sunlight it soared through, they shined regally like an oil spill. 

Grabbing you by the hand as warning bells rang out over the seaside community, Steve dragged you with him and he addressed the two wardens that had lingered a few paces back while you both were out, “take her inside, through the cave, stay low, away from any windows.”

“Yes, my liege,” they swiftly replied and moved to defend you, but as the king’s grasp left yours, you reached out to halt him.

“Wait!” your fingers rushed to snag your lucky charm off, “here,” and you layed the fine necklace into his open palm before finding his eyes one last time and uttering, “please don’t die.”

Closing his fist around the jewel, he offered you a grave nod before the wardens led you into the cave and the king rushed down the banks and up the algae-slick steps that led up to the harbour. 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[predestinatos]

'tis the season, i guess — CL16

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary: cold winter days bring unexpected company to your bookshop. or in which your ex needs help choosing a book for his girlfriend.

words: 3.5k

tags: angst, SO much angst, dark academia vibes for some reason?, genuinely heartbreaking. some fluff but not much!

note: this was based off of this request but i got a bit carried away and wrote a whole thing! also am now obsessed with listening to sabrina carpenter... i hope everyone likes this even though it is very painful, but lmk your thoughts pls!!

The bookshop was basically empty, all the noise you could hear being yourself trying to rearrange the books in alphabetical order, and soft music playing in the background.

you stood on your tiptoes in order to reach a book at the top of the shelf, knowing a bench was available but being too lazy to go get it. Wuthering Heights refused to reach your fingertips despite your efforts and soft curses to yourself a bit louder than usual due to the emptiness of the shop.

"Need help?" a male voice called from behind, causing you to roll your eyes. Here we go, you thought to yourself, another man who catches you alone in the shop and tried to hit on you, and you'll have to find him funny and play delighted to be in his presence despite how bothersome he is, despite the ring on his finger.

"No, I'm okay, really-" you started replying, putting on your best customer service smile, fixing your hair as you turned around to face the stranger. but the person who you faced wasn't a stranger in the slightest.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you" he said as he reached behind you for Wuthering Heights, taking him zero effort to do so, increasing your frustration and disbelief.

those brief moments of closeness brought to you a thousand heart clenching memories, time standing still as his scent hit you softly.

"Try this one" you tried to stop giggling as you held the dark brown bottle in your hands and asked for his wrist.

"Tobacco Vanille? I don't want to smell like cigarettes!!" he joked, although he let you spray his wrist gently, so happy just for the sole fact that you were happy.

Your smiles reached your eyes as they met for brief seconds, waiting for the smell to hit his skin. Reactions weren't needed as your expressions turned from smiling to shocked, mouths widening at the scent that seemed to fill you both.

"It's AMAZING!" you half screamed excitedly as he smelled his wrist in confirmation. "Charlie, it smells so good I could eat you right now!"

He laughed at the nickname, at how pretty you looked, at how simple it all was. He kept laughing with the perfume in a perfectly wrapped package in his hand, the other holding yours.

"Uhm, hi" you said, as his big familiar hands stretched out to hand you the book, which you hugged tightly to your chest in an attempt to hide or disappear in it, you weren't sure "Thanks."

"No problem" he replied politely, almost annoyingly so, the tiptoeing already starting before more than a few words could be uttered, his hands in his pockets as he looked everywhere but you.

It was uncomfortable - the silence, the stillness, how both of you stood there like ghosts, waiting for some direction, something to do, something to happen. "So uhm... what brings you here?"

"Oh, I'm a wedding crasher" the stranger next to you replied, black tuxedo slightly touching your arm, a drink in his hand and shirt slightly unbuttoned.

"Really?" your eyebrows raised as you took in what he said and his appearance – the nose, especially the nose.

He laughed slightly, taking a sip of his drink and looking back at you "no, I'm friends with the bride," his finger pointed in the direction of the beautiful woman dressed in white, but all you could see was how big his hands were, adorned with rings. "And you?"

"I am an actual wedding crasher" you replied, cheeky smile adorning your lips despite the shyness you felt as your eyes locked with his. It was his time to raise his eyebrows and your turn to take a sip of beer as he repeated what you had asked seconds before. "Really?"

"No, I'm friends with the groom" you replied winking, enjoying the stranger's company and humor, his smile causing small dimples to appear in his cheeks as he looked down at his lap.

"You got me," his hand suddenly stretched towards you, palm open and inviting, "I'm Charles."

He kept shrugging and avoiding your eyes, despite the fact that he had willingly chosen to go to the place where you worked. It was making you impatient and angry, those emotions replacing the initial shock and sadness.

"I need your help choosing a book," his voice sounded weak and embarassed, shame coming through every vowel. You stood still, waiting for him to continue, wishing he'd speak faster, explain himself already or just leave and forget he even came. "For my girlfriend"

Those words twisted inside you like a sharpened knife that knew the cut would merely hurt, not kill. Despite that, you knew better, you refused to let him notice any sort of hint of how that information affected you. "Oh wow," was all you could say at first, turning around to keep placing books in shelves, distracting at least your body since your mind was restless "birthday?"

"Uh? Oh no, 6-month anniversary" he muttered, almost inaudibly. You were too aware suddenly of how your clothes felt on you, how ironic red was in the necklace you were wearing as you placed Anne Boleyn's biography in its correct place, tight between the other books. You refused to look to him now, nodding intensively so he would understand that you had heard what he said, your skin prickling as you struggled to move. Calculations ran through your mind, trying to place those 6 months in the timeline of both of your lives as he moved awkwardly behind you.

"It's funny actually, she really loves reading, I guess I do have a typ-" he began, trying to lighten the mood, but each word he said felt like another grain of salt being thrown at the open wound that was your heart.

“What does she like to read?” you interrupted him, purposefully so, knowing how clear your intention to move from the subject was.

“I read a bit of everything, but I love the classics,” you said as the cappuccinos arrived and sat prettily in the café’s table. You stared at Charles as he stared at you; his entire expression seemed to give you undivided attention, registering every word and movement of yours. He smiled at all the correct times, nodded at your statements and frowned at certain parts of your narrative almost as if he had been custom made for you.

“What’s your favorite book?” he continued, sipping his drink, some foam remaining on his top lip, a feature you smiled softly at, bravely leaning over with a napkin and cleaning it. “Thank you” he said as he noticed your blushing expression, his way of both reassuring you and brushing it off as something mundane, and you bit your lip, holding back a bigger smile than necessary.

“This is such a cliché,” you started, rolling your eyes at your answer, trying your best not to say it. “Go on” his hand suddenly stretched towards yours, resting on top of it gently, like a sheet perfectly fitted for a bed. Your body burned with the touch, what is symbolized, what it promised silently in that small café.

“It’s Catcher in the Rye,” you both burst out laughing.

“She loves Fitzgerald,” his hands touched random books, looking for something to do, fixing them, opening some of them and putting them back in place, reading the backs of them as if he was paying attention to anything they said.

“Good taste,” you tried the compliment route. You didn’t want to sound bitter, and you weren’t bitter. It was just a lot to take in so fast, his presence as painful as his words, the way both made you feel so small for such a big place, so big for such a tight room.

“That's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool,” you quoted the author as you contemplated the choices available for a lover of Fitzgerald. Work could fill your mind. Pretending it was just one more client made it easier. “Any other author or book? Help me out, Charli- Charles” you cut yourself off before the nickname could come out, hoping he wouldn’t notice, knowing that he did. You felt his entire body tense behind you as yours did, making it seem like a picture frozen in time in place, The Star-Crossed Lovers.

Charles seemed so silent that you unconsciously felt yourself turning back to check if he was still there, if he hadn’t been a fragment of your imagination after all. He stood in place, for a moment his eyes looked at you as if they hadn’t seen you in his entire life, examined you as if you were as unknown as letters in a freshly printed page. That soon faded as he snapped back to reality, registering the question with incredible delay. “Faulkner. She also likes Faulkner.”

“Aaaand Faulkner is done” you brushed some of the dust off of your hands as you stood up, looking at the now organized Classics section. “At least for the next week! Thank you for staying with me, by the way,” you said to the phone, as its screen indicated that you had been on a call for 2:45:17 hours.

“No problem,” Charles smiled. You knew he did although you didn’t see him, and that sheer though made you smile as well. “Can you do me a favour though?” he asked, his voice filled with excitement, a puppy-like tone that you cherished “open the door, I’m freezing.”

At first you were confused at his request, and you were close to questioning it until it hit you. You didn’t believe it. There could be no way he was- you rushed to the bookshop’s door, opening it while still holding your phone. Heart racing, you opened the door and saw Charles’ frame standing there, the lights illuminating his red cheeks and nose from the cold, one hand awkwardly holding the cellphone, the other trying to balance two warm drinks. He was wearing a beanie that made him look younger, softer, a puffer jacket that seemed to hug him perfectly- “Is there a code or something?” he jokingly asked, his breath visible due to the cold air outside, and you realized you had been staring for too long. You stood aside, turning the phone off as he placed the cups on the counter and removed his extra clothes.

“You didn’t have to,” you started. “I wanted to.” “You’re so sweet I could kiss you right now.” “Do it, then.”

 You started browsing through the spines of the books in the shelves in front of you, looking for answers to more than one question, relying on pulling you sleeves down to your hands to mask your nervousness.

“How have you been, though?” his voice made you jump a bit, pulling you back to reality as you pulled 2 books and held them against your chest with one hand, trying to keep them from falling by lifting a leg – an awkward stance, you were sure. “Great, actually” you replied, unconvincingly so.

Things were hard after what happened with Charles, and you had taken many different routes to get over it all at first – waking up hungover in strangers’ beds, not leaving the house, breaking hearts for fun, letting people use you for fun, meaningless moment after meaningless moment, where the highlight would be hearing a voice that sounded even slightly similar to his. They got slightly better, of course, a year had passed, you could function, yet it hadn’t scarred yet – it wasn’t even close. The wound was open and bleeding and hideous and his presence, his voice, his smell, his request, it all just made the blood spill harder.

“Really?” “Hmhm,” a nod. A cough from behind you, making you turn around. His face was stern, serious. Charles was considering if coming was a good idea, what even drove him to do it in the first place. There were so many bookshops, so many other gifts he could give, yet he felt like showing up, like seeing you, at least once. Now he was there and he felt peculiar. Something close to guilt crawled on his chest, but he wasn’t sure what he was feeling guilty of, which in turn intensified his guilt.

You reached for a third book, and as you did so, the ones you were holding fell once again on the old wooden floorboards. “Shit” you muttered, crouching to grab them as Charles did the same, you two being so familiarly close, the irony of the cliché overwhelming the both of you. Getting up, Charles felt the need to offer his hand for you to hold, a support you refused to take and acknowledge, pretending you didn’t see it when it reality it seemed to be screaming at you loudly and intensely.

“So here are my recommendations, I guess” you sighed, letting him assume it was due to tiredness, knowing that he wouldn’t. Placing the 3 books on the nearest table, they faced the both of you as you stood next to each other, his arm brushing against yours, eyebrows furrowed as he examined their covers and details carefully.

Mrs. Dalloway, Age of Innocence, and One Hundred Years of Solitude sat perfectly, yet stared at the both of you defiantly, knowing their words could cut through both of your souls if they pleased.

“Don’t let yourself die without knowing the wonder of fucking with love” Charles read aloud, laying in your bed next to you, your head resting gently on his chest as you felt him laugh softly, lying naked in . “You’re right, I think I like this author.”

You laughed alongside him, both unaware of the fact that you were laughing for different reasons.

Charles’ eyes glanced quickly towards you, the same memory haunting your minds as if you were locked in a cinema of nostalgia. Shyly, his hand reached towards the hardback edition of Age of Innocence, its soft colors drawing him attention when the other options were either too painful to grab or not as tempting for his eyes.

You leaned against the polished table, looking at the way he touched the pages tenderly, fingers brushing them with a softness that reminded you of times that had gone by yet seemed to close and so recent.

His features seemed so focused, eyes moving slowly across each sentence, eyelashes prettily adorning them, his throat bobbing up and down as he swallowed dryly. He almost seemed unreal, a mirage of a stranger who was once so familiar to you, breaking the spell when he chuckled softly. “What?” you asked, whispering, too afraid that a sudden movement might make him disappear entirely. The normalcy of the moment was as terrifying as it was comforting, a moment in which it seemed like you two were the same again. “Nothing it’s just, one of the sentences I stumbled upon…”

“Which one?” you rested your chin in your hand while looking up at him, forgetting the previous moments, the previous year, every previous instance in its entirety as he looked back down at you and bit his lip nervously.

“I want somehow to get away with you into a world where words like that -categories like that- won't exist. Where we shall be simply two human beings who love each other, who are the whole of life to each other; and nothing else on earth will matter.” the room went cold and silent as the night.

“I can’t give you a relationship” he stood in his own kitchen like a foreigner, a man you almost did not recognize. “Why not?” “Because I don’t do relationships and I don’t like labels and I don’t want to hurt you by convincing you that I can.”

Your ears rung as you fought back tears. You wouldn’t cry. You were too proud for that, to show him this mattered way more to you than to him. “If you don’t want to hurt me then try, Charles.”

He shrugged, arms opened in defeat and eyes looking at the window, the snow falling down outside, locking you both in this confrontation. “I can’t.” Frustration invaded your bones and skin as you asked why once again, though your voice was tired and broken.

“It’s not because of you, I just- Can’t I just love you?” “That’s what I’m asking you to do by staying,” you reply cut like ice, and as he moved closer to you and held your face in his hands, you knew you had lost. “I can’t. Because I can’t do relationships.”

“But you will” you pushed him away as you left, knowing you were leaving your toothbrush, spare underwear, and heart there.

He interrupted the stillness before you did, clearing his throat and his mind, failing to relieve you of the pain of the past. “I’ll take this one” he said, now too polite, too frigid to go back.

You held the book and moved towards the counter, aware of his footsteps behind you, following you. You knew he was doing it because he had to pay, because he was a customer, because that’s what you’re supposed to do – yet part of you wanted it to be for a different reason, wanted his hand to suddenly reach for your wrist and tell you it was all a lie, a big prank, he was sorry and he took it all back.

You wanted him to say something daring enough for you to explode at him, to scream everything you’ve been holding inside for a year, to go back to that kitchen and its dimmed lights. To dare yourself to ask how dare he come into your workplace and throw everything at you, all politeness and fragrance and small talk, like it was nothing when you felt everything.

Instead, you wrapped the present nicely, placing a bright ribbon at the top while he fidgeted with his wallet from the other side of the counter. It was almost done, this exchange, and you didn’t know how to feel anymore. You were tired. So tired.

“Why did you come here?” you asked, facing him fully, staring at his green eyes that tried their best to hold your gaze. “Seriously, Charles, why did you come here?”

At first, he stayed silent. You refused to break the silence this time, even if he left without an answer you knew you had asked it, you did not save it for late nights lying awake. “I know you think I didn’t love you, but I do” he said.

It didn’t seem like a reply to your question, it seemed like a statement he was waiting to get out since the moment he walked in, the phrasing odd with its verbs being intentionally used in different tenses that didn’t seem to matter, at least not anymore. All you could do was laugh in disbelief, anger, or hurt, or a mix of both spreading throughout your body.

“You were- are- very important to me. You helped me realize a lot of things and if I could, I would go back in time in a heartbeat. But I can’t” he grabbed the present, hinting at the fact that he was going to leave, yet it didn’t seem fair to you. This wasn’t an apology, and was nowhere close to it, your hands trembling were a proof of such.

“You never can” you raised your chin, pride fighting against hurt as tears threatened to roll down your cheeks, jaw tense and firm, “not when it comes to me.” And there it was. What you both knew was true, said aloud like a forbidden fruit that was now bit into.

“It’s more complicated than that. And it’s alright for you to hate me, but I genuinely do love you. I care about you and think about you more than I should-“

“Do you love her?” it was a stupid question, and you knew that. You knew whatever answer he gave you would be a slap in the face, unsatisfying and painful either way. You hated yourself for the slight jealousy you felt towards a woman you barely knew, who wasn’t at fault at all, whose only problem was being too lovable.

“I do. I wouldn’t have known that if it wasn’t for you” “Oh wow. Thanks for that one” you crossed your arms across your chest, making yourself smaller, trying to hide while looking at the clock – 15 minutes left until the shop closes. 15 minutes left of the last time you’ll ever see him.

“Why wasn’t it enough? Why wasn’t I enough?” he wanted to reach for you and hold you, a moment of involuntary movement almost drove him to do something he couldn’t possibly do, not anymore, at least. You looked at his sudden jerk of movement, how he stopped as if his muscles burned and prevented him from acting upon his instincts. It was the best answer he could’ve given you.

“I’m selfish. I want to look at a bookshelf and know a piece of you is there. I know I’ll never fucking see you again, and I’ll leave you alone, but God I need something to remind myself that you’re real” he said, eyes closing in shame or frustration, you couldn’t say.

“You took a part of me with you that night. And I’ll never get it back. And you walked in today and took a bit more. More than that book. And every time I think of you, you take another piece. So when you look at that book, think of your girlfriend. I am real. But what we had wasn’t. Not anymore.”

You started closing the register, ignoring his presence, hoping he’d go away. The only reason you noticed him leaving was the small bell that rang as he opened and closed the door, and you finally succumbed and let the tears run free.

[yanderestarangel]

HEADCANONS MW3 - "HE TOLD ME TO TAKE CARE OF YOU" | GHOST X READER

TW: spoilers about the canon story of mw3, death, mourning, angst, smut, praise, comfort, care, gn reader, use of medicines, breakdown, ghost soft spot, reader moves on after Mactavish's death, nsfw, reader's mixed emotions and ghost, post death of "soap mactavish" , dark themes.

A/N: People who are fighting in the comments: this is a work of fiction, if you take it seriously just DON'T READ IT.

Your world collapsed after the news that your fiancé "John Mactavish" aka "soap" had died, and what's worse, for Makarov. You felt your feet tremble and your breathing hitch - Price himself gave you this news, making you sob on the phone while Price, Gaz and especially, Ghost, listened to your pain and anger.

Ghost already knew you, he was soap's closest friend, he had been to your house several times and was even going to be best man at your wedding, along with Farah, however, Mactavish's young death took that away from you - and the man felt guilty, maybe if Ghost had been quicker, maybe if he had been close to Price he would have stopped Soap from trying to play the "hero" and getting shot in the head, maybe - Simon's mind was filled with "maybe " mute and would never have an answer.

You couldn't go with Ghost, Gaz and Price to throw Soap's ashes into the sea, you really wanted to - but part of you was paralyzed, as you clung to old photos and videos of Soap, or rather, your boy, your Johnny. Ghost went to your house, carrying the jar - now empty - of your fiance's ashes, he saw how weakened you were, and how quickly you tried to close the door in his face, however, he obviously didn't let you, using one of the hands to stop the blow. "-We need to talk (Y/N)." He just said that, muffled by the skull mask, his hard and cold eyes now carried a dead glow of sadness, anger and concern, Simon entered your house, without even hearing a vocal response from him.

"-I know things can be difficult for you, I know you loved Mactavish... But he asked me to take care of you (Y/N)" he paused significantly, a silence of understanding crossed the small and empty space between the two of you, while Simon squeezed the handle of the suitcase with all his strength, while holding back the single tear that tried to slip from his eye. "-He told me to take care of you if something happened to him and I will keep my word, whether you want my help or not." he added, as the cold gaze returned to you, searching for some kind of understanding on your face, he knew what it was like to lose someone you loved - however - he was focusing on you now, he could handle the pain, but you couldn't.

Then he did something he never did, he let the head of the impetuous and soulless man collapse slightly and letting the suitcase fall to the ground in a light tumble, the sound called you back to reality making you look at the tall and muscular form of Ghost with his arms open to you, while he was teary-eyed but refused to shed any tears, mixed emotions between the two of you, but the same feeling - the pain of sudden loss - you ran into the soldier's warm grip, feeling the smell of clothes wet from the rain and the thick, uncomfortable fabric of his sweatshirt, however, there was a warmth there, a warmth that you needed. You allowed yourself to cry, cry until your throat hurt, Simon's big hands made a pattern on your back and went to the top of your head, he didn't need to say anything at that moment, he just needed to give you the comfort you needed, you felt It allowed you to be taken care of, even if it was by a person you never thought would take care of you.

Simon watched you sleep after crying so much in his arms, lifting you in his arms to the upper staircase and placing you on the double bed, empty, due to the lack of John. He sighed heavily beneath his balaclava as he sat on the edge of the bed, watching you sleep. "-I will truly keep my promise, I swear to you my brother..." Ghost whispered as if he was talking to Soap, or, the ghosts that haunted him.

The next few weeks were calm and uneventful, with Simon offering to help you with the household expenses. "-You just took care of the house right? Totally dependent on Soap?" He asked calmly, no judgment reverberated in his voice, just doubts and an attempt to get closer. You nodded silently, as you watched him hand you a notepad and a pen. "-Write down all the groceries you need for the house, I'll buy them, I may not be Johnny, but I'll take care of you just like he did." he said seriously, his penetrating gaze looked at the floor as he rested both hands on his knees, waiting for you to finish the list. You didn't question it, his look was serious, a statement you couldn't deny.

So, slow steps were worked into these daily narratives, with Ghost always checking in on you, whether you were taking your medicines right, whether you were eating right and even whether you were well enough - with rare occasions of you not being able to eat and Simon preparing some soup. for you, ordering you to sit at the table while he himself fed you with a spoon, some small compliments were whispered under the typical skull mask. "-You're doing well (Y/N)." "-I'm glad you're accepting the food I made." "-Just this spoon and you can go rest, ok?" - he wasn't used to being soft with someone, but, besides the promise he made, something about you made him want to see you well, but he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind like many others.

Soon the two of you began to live together more and more, not just polite everyday conversations or routine silent care, but rather, verbalizing some abstract feelings from both your hearts. Some nights Ghost would stay with you in the dimly lit kitchen, a hot coffee in front of you both, the steam dancing between you as you smiled sideways - a sad smile, full of hurt and nostalgia, but still a smile - showing some photos of Soap, some photos of you together traveling the world on the few vacations he had while he was alive. Making him smile beneath the fabric that covered his face. "-Oh, I see... He was really quite an adventurous man." he spoke calmly, seeing your sad look as he ran his finger over the cold screen of his cell phone, so Ghost had the idea of ​​telling some stories he shared as a protagonist with Soap - like the time Captain Price made him and Mactavish clean the entire barracks because caught you both listening behind the meeting door - you smiled, now, genuinely happy, making Simon's heart warm a little, as if he was on a mission and it was finally bearing fruit, your happiness.

He accompanied you to doctor appointments and shopping, he insisted that you should take better care of yourself - Ghost dragged you to an expensive clothing store and gave you permission to spend his money however and on whatever you wanted, you couldn't deny it just nodding and swearing he could see a chaste smile appear slightly on the black fabric he wore. You changed for him, trying out some clothes while he approved them all, making you smile beautifully, questioning him if he was being sincere. Simon just crossed his arms and let out a breath through his nose "-I'm just being honest, you're a beautiful person, any clothes you wear look great on you." he spoke sincerely, not noticing the words slipping off his tongue. You thanked him for the compliment, while selecting the clothes, the two of you heard the attendants talk about what a beautiful couple you made. You didn't say anything and neither did Simon correct them, just holding your shoulders in a gesture of shy affection.

Your feelings were confused, you practically lived with Simon now, even giving yourself the freedom to walk around the house in just a towel, you felt good, good about yourself and the man who took care of you - even if your mind wondered if it was right to accept such intimate contact with your late fiancé's friend -

Questions were also present in Ghost's mind, but he liked to take care of you, it wasn't just an obligation for a promise but for pleasure and self-satisfaction, the two of you now practically lived together - something that happened naturally, over time , just proof of a greater connection that was growing in both of you - soon you found yourself arranging Ghost's clothes, like you did with Soap, taking care of his lunch, even though nothing more intimate had ever happened, nothing more than pleasant conversations and warm touches, but covered by the fabrics of your body and Simon's gloves. The spark that was igniting there transcended any bond he had formed and any morals built during his time with Mactavish. He wondered if it was worth going over everything he believed in and trying something with you, touching your skin, feeling you on his fingertips, seeing your happy face and contorting with pleasure because of him - thoughts he didn't think about. he managed to free himself, after all, no man is hypocritical in his pleasures and desires - and Ghost was one of them.

It didn't take long for it to happen, a few glasses of wine, a few laughs between you like any ordinary weekend you were both having in that routine of caregiver x person who was dying from care. But something shone in both your eyes and his, a look that didn't need words but just actions - when you saw it, you were leaning over the kitchen counter, the taller man's thick cock hitting your holes, the swollen balls of cum hit your skin, leaving your skin red. It had been so long since you felt a cock filling you and Ghost was there, fucking you without much thought, just sweet compliments as he ravished your needy hole against his hard, cold marble on the counter. "-Yes fuck... You look so beautiful like this, take it all baby..." "-Don't be ashamed, just let go, I'm here, you've endured so much, haven't you? Yes, you're so strong... So beautiful... Let me take care of you sweetheart." "-Mmm... Fuck (Y/N)... You're squeezing me so good, keep it up okay? I'm going to make you cum, I'm here for you." He spoke between moans in the air, holding your thighs, you forgot everything, the mourning, the past, who you were, just focusing on the blur with each thick thrust and hoarse praise, full of Simon Riley's accent to you. You two didn't know how you were going to act after that, but it didn't matter about the momentary carnal pleasure.

After the post-orgasmic bliss, you and Simon exchanged more glances. "-Sorry, I just... We can't do that." Ghost spoke first, while he was still physically connected with you, leaving slowly, seeing your satisfied form but full of doubts and guilt, even so he helped you take a shower, the two of you sitting in the same bathtub, just an oral silence and the sound calm of the water filled the air particles. You didn't know how to feel, nor what to say. Ghost agreed with the idea of ​​pretending that nothing had happened between you... And that didn't do anything.

It happened again, it always did, another cold, rainy night, with Ghost above you, Simon's thick hands caressing your thighs, his warm breath on your neck. "-I promised to take care of you, I think... Soap would be happy if I made you happy in other ways too." he whispered against your wet, sweaty skin, pushing the shaft already covered in his semen even deeper, from other times he had cum, and maybe, he was right, Mactavish wanted you happy, and you were happy. He reached out his hand, grabbing yours, as he looked you in the eyes, pushing you to your limit. "-Tell me dear... You want another chance to be happy, right?" he spoke from behind the skull balaclava softly and with expectant eyes, all that was needed was your answer to your future, a future with Simon or, a future trapped in memories of the past.

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

[gurugirl]

Cat Man | a Don’t Stand So Close extra

Summary: This is a sweet little Halloween extra for the series Don't Stand So Close. Featuring a little trick-or-treating, three costumes, and some Mommy & Daddy alone time.

Warning: 18+ only, smut, fluff, daddy kink (as always), age gap

Word Count: 3.8k

Don't Stand So Close masterlist

When Starla and Paul got pregnant Harry and I were so beyond excited for the pair. We would have a little friend for James to play with, and though James was a bit older, they’d be growing up together. They’d plan their wedding after the baby was born.

The only issue I faced with this amazing news was that it meant I would be a step-grandmother. At the ripe old age of 27. Harry thought it was funny and Starla was unconcerned about it as she was focused on her new life and not my feelings.

Along with that, we navigated the odd naming of the relationship between Starla and James as delicately as we knew how. Technically they were half siblings. We opted to say auntie and nephew… but in the end, the confusion wouldn’t be worth the façade once James got older. Whatever people thought of the setup was none of our concern. Or it shouldn’t have been.

But to think I’d be becoming a grandmother?

“Hottest grandma on the planet.” Harry laughed.

I scoffed and sat down on the couch with James crawling over me and asking for another bite of cake we’d brought back from the baby shower.

It had been a long day. I helped Starla and Angela get everything ready. Starla mostly sat and pointed but it was nice to spend a little time with her. I felt thankful that she took me up on my offer to help.

We still had a bit of awkwardness between us. I was sure we’d never get back to how things were when we were best friends. And slowly things got better but my penance would always be the loss of that precious relationship as it was once upon a time.

“Mama. Cake!” James stood on my lap with his knees jammed into my ribs as he pointed toward the kitchen where the bit of cake we brought back was sitting on the counter.

“Not right now, honey,” I grunted as I lifted him away from my ribs. The little guy was solid and heavy. He had no idea that jumping on me or standing on me was uncomfortable. Don’t get me wrong. I love that my baby enjoys being close to me all the time… but ow.

Harry leaned over and took him from my hands, “Let’s sit like a good boy and we’ll put on something to watch.”

The cartoon was bright and loud and obnoxious but somehow all three of us wound up falling asleep on the couch together after one episode.

When I woke up the sky was dark and both Harry and James were asleep sitting upright, heads leaned back into the cushion behind them, mouths dropped open, hands in their lap. Twins. I couldn’t get over just how alike they were. They even looked so much alike that it was scary. Old pictures of Harry, when he was James’ age, proved they were identical.

Gently lifting James into my arms I held him close and kissed the top of his head to put him into bed. I hated having him get into bed in his day clothes but it was not worth the hassle of waking him up to change him into pajamas. Another wonderful little thing about James was that he was a heavy sleeper just like his father. Would conk out and stay that way if you let him.

But the difference was that I needed to wake Harry because carrying him to our bedroom was out of the question.

“Harry…” I squeezed his arm and leaned in to kiss the top of his head, “Let’s go to bed, big guy.”

His eyes opened and he inhaled a deep breath before stretching his arms overhead, “You put James down already?”

I nodded, “Yep. Now time to put you in bed.”

Six hours.

That’s how long we got to sleep before James was bouncing in between Harry and me. I counted the hour and a half we were asleep on the couch watching cartoons the night before but it was rare to have more than six hours of uninterrupted sleep at a time. James just had some kind natural of alarm that only allowed Mom and Dad six hours at a time.

I rolled over and pulled James down, “Shhh… let’s sleep a little longer, baby. Look Daddy’s still sleeping too.”

“Cat man!” James excitedly shrieked.

Cat man. Or really, he meant Batman. It was his Halloween costume. Halloween was in a few more days and he’d been obsessed with it. I let him run around in it at home. And I mean, who could blame him? It was an awesome costume complete with a mask and a cape. I loved watching him run back and forth with the cape flying behind him. Who knew something as simple as a Batman costume could occupy a three-year-old for hours on end?

Harry sighed and rolled toward the commotion; his handsome face turned toward me with a smile. He brought his hand up to my face and spoke in his deep morning voice, “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

~~

James had been crying and throwing a fit to wear the costume all morning but we really wanted to have him wait until it was trick-or-treat time.

All morning we heard him screeching, “I’m cat man! Cat man!” and “I want cat man!”

We’d given up on correcting him to say Batman. Harry tried at first but James was sure cat man and Batman were the same thing. So we let it be.

We’d also given up on having him wait until it was time for trick-or-treating to let him put on his cat man costume. He was in distress, poor guy, so we folded. And anyway, why did it matter if he wore it before we left the house?

“Okay, Mr. Bruce Wayne. Are you ready to dawn your superhero costume and go fight bad guys?” Harry asked James animatedly.

Siggy and Jared were coming by to help us with trick or treating and then after they were bringing James to their place to have him stay for two nights. Harry and I were desperate for alone time. A full night’s sleep. Sex without a bouncy boy walking in.

Harry was dressed up as a cowboy. Only because it was easy. Jeans with a brown button-up shirt a green vest, and a cowboy hat. I was dressed as a red devil. Red leggings, a red long-sleeved shirt (that to my dismay did not match the red shade of the leggings as well as I thought it would), and a headband with horns. Also easy.

I remember the days when I used to go all out for Halloween. I figured this was pretty good for two adults who were looking more forward to getting home after the events than the actual event itself.

James filled his plastic pumpkin full of junk and he was as happy as ever. His overnight bag was already packed when we met up with my parents at the park and walked around to the houses nearby to go door-to-door.

James was in his element. Running from house to house with his little cat man cape waving in the wind. The four adults watched him bounce up to the houses and scream at the top of his lungs, “Trick or treat!!” to everyone who answered the door.

“Have you two thought of giving him a little brother or sister?” Jared said as we walked back to our cars.

This wasn’t the first time they’d brought this up. I rolled my eyes and Harry just laughed. There was no reason to answer them. They knew what our answer would be. That it was our decision and if we ever decided to have another they’d be the first to know.

James loved overnights at his grandma and grandpa’s house. I was sure it was because they let him sleep with them in their bed, let him stay up as late as he wanted, and fed him macaroni and cheese and candy bars. So it was no surprise to Harry and me when James held onto Siggy’s hand and followed her toward their car without a single pout.

“Behave for Papa and Gran okay? They’re gonna tell us if you’re not being nice,” Harry knelt to look James in the eye and James nodded dramatically.

I sighed as they drove off with my little boy. I loved having some space and alone time with my husband but it didn’t make me miss James any less every time they took him.

Harry put his hand on my knee, “Ready to get home, Mommy?”

Putting my hand over Harry’s I grinned with a laugh, “Of course, Daddy.”

.           .           .

We’d gotten a bottle of wine and had leftovers ready to go. I also snuck a stash of James’ candy for us for later.

Entering our home, Harry locked the door and then grabbed my hips, pulling my back into his chest before I could move away, “Where are you going, little devil?”

I snickered a laugh and turned my head to look at him, “Was gonna change out of this lame Halloween costume. Come with me, Daddy?”

Harry needed no prodding. I slid my leggings off and Harry sat at the edge of the bed, his cowboy hat lying next to him on the mattress.

“Aren’t you gonna change?”

Harry smirked and shrugged his shoulder, “Take your top off but leave the horns.”

I gave him a side-eye look and smiled as I peeled my shirt off. He made no move to get out of his own clothes.

“Bra, panties. Off,” he said as he leaned back onto his palms and crossed his legs in front of him as he watched.

I grinned at him and kept my eyes on his as I unplucked my bra and pulled my panties down. The small groan that fell from his throat had me blushing a bit. I’d never get tired of the way he adored my body and me.

Readjusting the devil horn headband, I faced him with a brow raised, “Okay. Did what you said.”

Harry leaned forward and grabbed my hand, pulling me toward him until I was in between his legs which he’d spread. He moved his hands up over my breasts and kept his eyes on mine, “Ever been fucked by a cowboy?” He smirked as he asked.

A scoff fell from my lips as I put my hands in his hair, “Don’t think so. Why? Does this cowboy want fuck his little devil?” I figured I’d play along. Harry enjoyed lots of playing when it came to sex and with James out of the house, we could really play.

Harry growled and leaned in to wrap his pink lips around my nipple. The moan into my flesh sent goosebumps down my torso and I felt his hands lower to my bum. He squeezed firmly and spread my cheeks, keeping his mouth on my tits.

He looked up at me from his spot and pulled his lips off my breast, “I want you to pull my cock out and suck. Wanna see what the little she-devil can do with that mouth.”

“Fuck,” I breathed out as I stepped back and then pressed my knees into the rug to kneel between his legs. He spread his thick thighs apart as I grasped onto the waistband of his jeans and began to unbutton.

To my delight, my horny husband was not wearing underwear and he was already nice and hard for me. Anyone who tells you men in their 40s can’t get it up easily is dead wrong. Harry has proven to me time and time again that he’s more than capable of rising to the occasion. Though he won’t be in his 40s for much longer, you’d really never know. He’s still the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. A fucking body like a divine being. Strong and buff, tall… But it’s his eyes. The attention he gives you. He has a genuine hunger to listen and give you all of his attention. And that’s just so attractive to me that even his amazing physique pales in comparison to the way he looks at me when I’m talking.

“Ooh, Daddy…” I mewled as I pulled at him and stroked his hard prick, pulling him from the confines of his jeans. I gave him a few good pulls before I leaned in and spit over his ruddy tip, smoothing my saliva down his shaft before looking up at him and then taking him in my mouth.

One thing about being with a well-endowed man is that you can train to take them after some time.

I had struggled with how thick and long he was at the beginning but as the years have gone on I have learned just how to get him snug in my throat. Not always with ease, but it can be done and I typically can achieve getting my nose stuffed into the thatch of hair at his base every time I give him head.

Harry moaned above me and I felt him gather my hair behind my head as I bobbed over him. I tried keeping my eyes upward but his little nudge at the back of my head pushed me down further over his cock making it hard to peek up at him.

I swallowed around his tip and gurgled just before he pulled me off by my hair.

He slid back into the bed and put his cowboy hat on, leaning against the headboard he patted his thighs.

“Think it’s time for a ride.”

I laughed as I climbed after him and settled over his lap, “I like this,” I flicked at his cheap dollar-store cowboy hat.

Harry smirked as he pulled at me and placed his thumb through my crease.

“Gotta make sure you’re ready for this ride first. Sink down, baby,” Harry laughed a few of the words as he spoke but then suddenly his expression changed from cheekiness to thoughtful and intense.

I breathed a laugh and bent my knees, nudging myself over his thumb to sink down on it. I placed my hands on his shoulders and rocked into his knuckles, “Am I doing it right?”

“Got my thumb inside your hole didn’t you? I’d say it’s right. Now,” Harry pushed his thumb upward harder and used his other hand to rub over my clit, “move those hips and fuck my thumb, baby.”

“Yes, Daddy…” I spoke softly and began clenching and rocking myself over his thumb and into the fingers, he was using on my clit.

I knew he was trying to make me feel a little embarrassed, a little vulnerable. Sometimes he liked making a spectacle and then commenting on how desperate for him I am. But he did it because he knew what it did to me. Knew how much it turned me on.

In fact, it was already becoming obvious how much I liked it given how wet his entire hand was, as well as the gushy little sound of me fucking myself onto his thick thumb.

“Knew the little devil would like something like this. Rub your cunt over Daddy’s cock now, baby. Show me how wet you got for my thumb.”

Harry gripped my hips to steady me, his damp fingers smearing over my skin as he held me and I settled my pussy onto his exposed cock. He was still fully dressed with only his pants open.

He remained stoic and unbothered by me which had me feeling that pathetic desperation so I breathed out a laugh and began to slick myself over him.

Suddenly the smack of his hand on my ass had me yelping as I gripped his shoulders tight.

“What’s funny, then? Hmm?” He asked me with a straight face.

I breathed out a shaky breath and tried to lean in to kiss him but he issued me another spanking to my other side.

He let go of my hip and squeezed my cheeks together. I could smell myself on his fingers, “Asked you a question, my love. S’rude not to answer.” He was working hard now to hide his smirk. The very ghost of dimples began to dip into his cheeks as he asked me to answer him once more.

He released my cheeks and wrapped his big palm around the front of my neck, raising his brows. A gesture for me to answer him, “I was feeling a little embarrassed and I got a little giggly,” I spoke honestly. But he knew this already. Knew that every time I felt embarrassed somehow it got me excited and I’d start to feel giggly.

“Aww, poor thing. What’s got you embarrassed baby? Didn’t realize the devil herself could all feel shy when she gets wet over a thumb.”

Blinking my eyes and nodding I smiled and put my hands up his jaw admiring his handsome face, “Will you fuck me, Daddy? I’m so horny for you. Been waiting for this all week. Please put me out of my misery.”

Harry fluttered his eyes closed for a moment before squeezing around my neck softly, “Well hop on then, honey.” His voice was deep and full of lust. I knew he was desperate too. We had plenty of time to play but if he was as achy as I was, I knew he’d be folding quickly.

I grinned as I lifted up and stuck my pussy right to his tip, “Just wanted to feel you and make you come,” I moaned as I pressed him inside of me. Always a tight fit into my entrance, his cock felt delicious.

“Yeah? Little devil wants my come? Well, go on then. Fuck it outta me.”

We moaned in unison as I lowered until I was sat over him, the fabric of his jeans being wetted slightly.

“Yes, Daddy… ooohh,” rocking my hips over him and then planting my feet flat onto the mattress so I could give him a good show, I leaned back and placed my hands at his thighs and gripped tight over his jeans as I lifted and lowered my pussy down over him, “Gonna fuck the come out of your cock.”

Harry groaned and put his hands on the underside of my thighs to help me lift upward as he watched my pussy slide up and down his thigh shaft.

“Fuck, baby. Oh my god…” he breathed his words as he leaned his head back into the headboard, making his cowboy hat prop forward before he tore it from his head and tossed it away.

He watched my body move up and down. His dick was shiny with my arousal as he began to buck upward slightly, causing me to lose my balance. I leaned forward and put my hands onto his shoulders to keep steady with a laugh.

We both chuckled at the whole scene. Harry’s nuisance of a cowboy hat, me losing my balance, the devil horns on my head…

Soon Harry had his knees bent and he slid down a bit for leverage to fuck into me from below.

We were both moaning and panting as we moved together. My knees were dug into the mattress as I ground myself over him and Harry used his position to lift himself into me deeply, knocking me upward at each thrust.

He put his hands on my tits and groaned, “You gonna come on Daddy’s cock?”

I was already beginning to shake and clench. He knew I was close. I reached my hand down between us and began to rub myself and nodded, “Yes! M’gonna come!”

Harry’s mouth dropped open and I knew the look. Deep concentration. He was in that mode where he was holding off his orgasm for mine. He was good at it, too. Because he always had me coming first no matter what.

“Shit… Anna, come on Daddy’s cock, honey! Fucking feels so good. Squeezing around me like that…” his words were pinched and whiney.

I kept my eyes on his as I rocked over him quickly, chasing my quickly approaching high. Moaning desperately and whimpering, I finally felt that magic spark unfurl in my tummy.

Harry coughed out his words when he could tell I was coming, “That’s it, Anna. Make yourself feel good with Daddy’s cock… Ahhhh…” he clenched his jaw, still holding off as long as he possibly could. But then he stilled his hips and held me down over him.

I felt the throb of cock as he pumped inside of me with a deep groan.

With his tight hold on my hips, I could only rock back and forth to finish myself off, moaning and panting in ecstasy.

I slumped into his chest as he softly moaned and we lay together until we’d both come back to the present.

Harry’s big hand smoothed up and down my back and I felt his wet lips at my temple, “Just what I needed. But you know that’s just the beginning of what you’re in for these next two nights, right?”

I could hear the grin in his voice as he spoke. I pushed myself back to look at him, “Oh really? The old man’s gonna be able to go another round, then?”

Harry puffed out a laugh and popped my thigh, “You better behave.”

“Or what?”

Shaking his head in disbelief he pushed me off his lap, causing my back to hit the mattress, and hovered over me, placing a palm over my neck to hold me down, “I’m twice your size. Just imagine the damage I could do to you. And if you’re really bad I won’t let you come at all. So you better listen to Daddy and do what he says.”

I bit my lip and nodded before pulling him down to bring his mouth to mine.

Harry laughed into the kiss before making me get up so we could clean up.

It’s funny how I used to spend Halloween; all dressed up at some haunted house-themed party or a themed club when Starla used to drag me with her. My favorite was always staying in and watching a scary movie or reading a good book. As opposed to these days where I take my three-year-old trick-or-treating and then end the night with sex, leftovers, a horror movie, and a bottle of wine with my husband.

I felt like we’d already gotten the night off to a good start but I knew he wasn’t lying when he said that was just the beginning. If anything Harry’s high libido and mine meant we might not be getting the kind of sleep we’d anticipated. Which sounded exactly like what I needed.

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[worriedvision]

A marriage of convenience - Mr Reca

Gender neutral reader, sitting on this one for a while. Angsty ending, basically yet another example of poor communication and misinterpreted comments from both parties.

--

"Oh, dear you need to get married soon! You still have years to get your career sorted, but finding yourself a good spouse is a different story!"

"Still no ring on your finger?"

"No bitches?"

These are comments various family members just kept asking you. It didn't make sense to you, your personal life was your own business and you didn't ever think to move on the comments. You'd brush them off, but after they never stopped you began to vent to your best friend, Mr Reca.

"Ah, why don't we use this as an opportunity to explore a marriage! It'll help be with my, uhh, my scriptwriting!" Your friend stumbled momentarily before rounding off confidently.

It made sense at the time - both of you were single, he needed 'script material' and you needed the comments to stop. It was fortunate you had the chance to work with your friend through this, and it was more likely he was just seeing this as a chance to see his next film idea come to fruition.

--

As time moved on, and you got married with a large extravagant wedding - filmed on old cameras - you begin to realise just how infatuated you were with your husband. When he was in public with you, he would be non-stop gushing to people about how amazing he was for landing someone as amazing as you. The public affection, the fact he would take any chance to get you something nice.

It wasn't there as much behind closed doors, and it made you yearn for more private moments with him. He was a busy man, however, so it proves difficult.

You try, though! Making him packed lunches, kissing him on the cheek whenever you got the chance and trying to initiate hugs at home.

None of it seemed to do much, though. He wouldn't react, but it wasn't a good thing. It was like he was thinking 'yes, this is what a marriage should be, good job _!' instead of a quiet appreciation.

You yearn to have more moments, and it doesn't help that the press have clocked that your affections carry out privately as opposed to the public. People accuse you of being a gold digger, of being a leech that's too stupid to realise it's being a leech.

Once you get home after a particularly difficult day, dealing with dirty looks, you decide to bring up divorce with your husband. It breaks your heart how willingly he is to accept a divorce like it was nothing. It had been a while, you'd have thought he would care even if it was just for script-writing. Part of you thinks he's just wanting a sad dramatic end for this chapter, but he can write a much better ending than the one you're about to provide.

The paperwork gets signed and filed away, cameras around you as the two of you leave the building, and you turn to your now ex-husband to say some parting words, and to leave him with one last act of affection.

"I'm sorry, I fell in love with you. You're a wonderful man, you'll find someone who can treat you better than myself." You smile, Mr Reca seemingly only realising in that moment you actually had feelings for him. You grab him by his cheeks lightly, delicately yet passionately kissing him before pulling away, tears brewing in your eyes as you pull off your wedding band and drop it.

Before he has time to stop you, however, you run off into the crowd, the crowd swarming him for interviews now that he was a newly divorced man.

[emeritusemeritus]

George and y/n asking Fred to be the godfather of their (first) daughter

I wanted to carry this on from my Poppy HC so here we go! 🖤

Warnings: mentions of war, previous battle, Fred lives. Pregnancy/ baby.

Word count: 800

When you first started going out with George Weasley, you'd been worried that Fred would take it badly. They'd been a duo their entire life, naturally strung together through every part of their upbringing and their lives. You were in your third year of Hogwarts when you noticed George for the first time, really noticed him. He was an incredible quidditch player, funny and sweet all in one so when he noticed you looking and started looking back at you in a similar way, you were done for.

Your worries about Fred's reaction had been completely unfounded. Sure he was a prominent fixture in your life, your husbands closest friend, sibling and business partner but George had always held a very clear boundary with Fred right from the start that he was not to interfere with your relationship, or you.

Fortunately for George, You and Fred got along like a house on fire, finding that many of the good qualities of George were also held by twin.

Sure there were squabbles along the way, a few crossed words occasionally but you found pretty early on that Fred really had become something like a brother to you. Never more so than when the war was over, all of you dirty and exhausted from the battle. You'd been separated from the twins as they defended the passages and the battlements whilst you joined the rest of the order holding back the courtyard.

The second you'd walked into the Great Hall, tired and covered in mud, blood and sweat, desperate to find George, you'd spotted someone else first. Fred saw you by the doors and instantly ran to you, pulling you into his arms and holding you protectively against him until George clicked on, realising you were there, too lost in his worried thoughts.

You and George married not long after the war, no longer wanting to wait after the war had shown you how precious life was. Fred had naturally been the best man and you'd had a wonderful family wedding, surrounded by the people you loved and who loved you.

Finding out you were pregnant just two months after your wedding was slightly shocking, not having expected it to happen so quickly but you and George were elated, as were all the Weasley's.

When Poppy Weasley was born, her first visitor was her Uncle Fred, followed closely by her Granny and Grampy. Fred's beaming, proud smile was infectious and though it might have been your hormones, it brought a tear to your eye to see the three people you loved the most all huddled together, happy.

Fred visited most days, even just to chat and watch Poppy sleep for a bit or hold her whilst you showered. He'd say that it was because she had so many aunties and uncles, that he needed to bond with her to ensure he would be her favourite. You loved having him there and so held back from telling him that he would undoubtedly be the favourite on account of him looking nearly identical to her daddy.

"We have something to ask you," George says one night as you all sit around the lounge, Poppy cradled into the crook of Fred's arm, her favourite place for a snooze. He was always more than happy to oblige and took great pride in the fact he could lull her to sleep.

"We're identical mate, if you want my dna for the next one that's a bit pointless," Fred says with a grin, a devilish twinkle in his eye. "But I suppose if it's my baby you want next then it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make." He finishes his point with a wink in your direction.

You scrunch up your face in disgust at the thought and Fred laughs at the sight, receiving the reaction he'd hoped for.

"Watch it," George says with a firm look on his face, feeling that his twin was beginning to cross a line. You slip your hand onto George's knee and he grabs your hand, linking your fingers.

"We wanted to know," you begin, looking briefly at George who nods with a smile, encouraging you to carry on. "If you'd be Poppy's godfather."

"Me?" Fred says completely bewildered.

"Of course you," you reply with a smile, not imagining anybody else got the job.

Fred goes quiet for a moment and it's clear that he's feeling rather emotional at the question, his eyes secretly tearing up as he looks down as his niece, seeing her chest rising slowly up snd down, softly breathing bundled up in blankets.

"One question," Fred says a minute later, having recovered from his emotional moment.

"Anything mate," George replies, a little concerned that Fred hadn't accepted yet.

When you see the telltale smirk appear in the corner of his mouth, you know trouble will follow but you listen anyway, anticipating Fred's next joke.

"If you both die do I get to keep her?"

[claraswritings]

curious about the SFW/Dating alphabet for Carm and Luca 👀

Of course… Carmy has already been posted here’s Luca 😅

Anything for dream man Luca 😩

CHEF LUCA SFW DATING HEADCANONS

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Oh my god. Luca would be soooo affectionate. Walking? Arm around you. Holding your hand? He squeezes it every so often. Sitting down? He’ll either put a hand on your thigh or he’ll pull your legs into his lap. Orrrr if he can get away with it he’ll pull you to sit between his legs. Standing? Always always next to you. It is IMPOSSIBLE for it not to be obvious he’s with you. He’s sooo affectionate and cute with you.

B = Best friend (What are they like as a friend?)

He’d be the type where if you messaged and said I’ve had a shit day he’d be around with a take out and you’d watch a trashy comedy. He’d do silly things to make you laugh and youd be so close you’d be more like family than friends.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Y.E.S - Luca is always hugging you from behind and picking you up. He likes to give you like that tight squeeze hug, like a proper warm hug. He also likes you to sleep cuddled into his side.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Yes, he’d wanna settle down with you. He’s obviously a chef so he can cook! He’s a tidy person too and would be quite neat in his personal life I think. Not obsessive about it but he’d make sure his space was tidy. He maybe does the same thing as Carmy and doesn’t have a bookshelf and just stacks them on a table but he’s still tidy.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

I think you’d both try carry on acting happy as possible before the longest time before it would come to one of you saying ‘I think we need to talk’ and it would come out from there. You’d probably both cry but decide it was for the best. Maybe you’d be friends one day but not for a long time

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He’s more than happy to commit. He’s tried a short term thing once or twice and it didn’t work. As for marriage, he would propose pretty early on, within the first year. He’s a big “when you know you know” guy and with you he knows. He’d want a quick wedding after the proposal. Luca doesn’t really care about a big fancy wedding and would quite happily elope immediately after the proposal.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

So gentle. Especially emotionally. If you ever opened up about having bad dates etc, Luca would be going out of his way to treat you so well and be the most caring sweet guy to you. I don’t think he’d ever yell or lose it unless it was something major. He had a bit of a chaotic childhood/teen years so he likes the calm.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

OF COURSE. He’s always hugging you. He just loves it. I think he’d also like picking you up for hugs so you can put your legs around him. And he does the like squeeze hug when he first hugs you.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

I think pretty quickly. He knows pretty much instantly and wants to tell you. I think it would slip out like you’d be doing something and he’d be like “you’re so funny, I love you so much” and then freeze and you’d be like “I love you too”

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He gets a bit jealous but not obsessively so. Like if he sees a person checking you out, he’ll give you a kiss or something without making a scene. Of course if the person makes a move he’ll be like ‘Sorry mate, she’s taken’ and smile hoping the person leaves. He’ll then give you a cuddle and refuse to leave your side even though he knows it’s silly.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

It’s like a slow make out. So sexy and it can either go somewhere or not, he’s happy just laughing with you and kissing you. He likes kissing your lips obviously, kissing your jaw, he loves kissing along your hips and up your thighs before dessert 👀. He loves you kissing along his shoulders and hairline. He finds it so soothing.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

I think he’d be good with kids if a little shy because he’s not 100% used to being around them. They’d think he was the coolest guy cause to them, he’s a big friendly guy that makes sweets. He’s not 100% set either way on having kids, he’s willing to go with what you want. If you wanna live the DINK life and be the fun aunt and uncle to your friends kids, he’s down but if you wanna have them, he’s open to that too.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He usually has to be up early but he’ll leave you cute notes and breakfast. If you’re both off he still gets up early because he’s used to it but he’ll cuddle into you for a bit before he gets up to run you a bubble bath and cook you breakfast.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

HEH 👀. Okay again being serious, you’ll go for walks or drives out to explore new parts of the city. Sometimes you’ll go to a show, sometimes for food, sometimes it’s just looking around for something new to do. If you’re at home, youll cosy up and play a cosy game together or maybe he’ll play guitar (headcanon for Luca there) and you’ll maybe write or watch a cute show and just spend time together but not doing the same thing if that makes sense.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

I think he’d be pretty open off the bat. He’s approachable and friendly and sees sharing experiences as a way to connect with people on a human level. I think with anything more crazy personal he’d mention it whenever it came up.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Not at ALL easy to anger. He’s so patient. He likes the quiet focus the kitchen brings himself. Look at how patient and nice he was to Marcus. He’s like that in life too. Softer even still with you. I don’t think he’d ever lose his cool with you unless it was something super extreme.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Luca would remember literally everything. Favourite drink? Yes. What vinyl you want in what colour? Done. Your favourite subject at school even though you left well over a decade ago? Yep. How you described your childhood home? He could describe it back to you. And he is the type that even if he’s heard you tell a story, he’ll still listen as attentively as before incase there’s something else he can remember. To him to be loved is to be seen and he wants to make sure he sees you.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His favourite moment is when he he’d planned a date but it had not gone to plan, it had been summer but it had rained, the bakery he’d planned on taking you to had closed last minute and as you were outside, under a cover and he’d just looked at you and apologised for it all going wrong, you’d told him you didn’t care as long as you were with him. He knew there and then he’d marry you.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Very protective. He’ll always do the kinda hand hold where he has his arm over your shoulder and you reach up to hold his hand. He’d pull you into him and give you kisses. He’d want you to be publicly protective of him too and make it clear he was your and you were his.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Massive massive effort. I believe Luca would show he loves you with quality time and acts of service. He’d make even the simplest date special, for anniversaries he’d go all out - im talking compose menus for you, take you to nice places etc. with gifts he has a list on his phone where if you mention something a few times he adds it and takes pictures of things linked to it so he can get you fun and unique gifts. Even with the everyday he’s thoughtful and will bring you in a extra thing he’s been trying or if he’s been working late he’ll bring you your favourite flowers or drive you somewhere beautiful or run you a bubble bath.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He’s an Arsenal fan kidding😉. Okay seriously, I would say especially early on in his career, I think he’d be quite self conscious when he knows he’s around people more accomplished than him so I can imagine he’d be a knuckle cracker if he’s uncomfortable. I think he’d also be a massive fidgeter (same)

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Right it is my personal headcanon that Luca doesn’t know he’s hot. He’s very clean and presentable most of the time which is important to him especially for work. He definitely knows to care of himself and works out a bit but he doesn’t think of himself as hot. He would be like “I’m okay looking” whilst you would be like ERM HELLO???? Babe??? Do you have a mirror?? Have you seen you??

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He knows he could be fine on his own, he’s been on his own a long time but since he met you and fell for you…he now doesn’t know how he ever lived without you so yes, now he would feel so incomplete without you. He’d take a long time to heal from any break up

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Keeps a box of things from your relationship. Receipt from your first date. (He paid like a gentleman even though you said he didn’t have to), a t shirt you wanted to throw out but he took it because it was what you were wearing when he first met you, a hair band you’d given him when he’d grew his hair slightly longer, and a gummy ring he’d jokingly given you once

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

I think in general he wouldn’t want someone dismissive of his craft, you don’t have to be a chef yourself. (I think he’d prefer it if you weren’t) but to him he’s worked hard and it was an escape for him and he’s talented. To diminish that wouldn’t work. I don’t think he’d like people who play mind games either, I think he’d be pretty honest and would want the same.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Luca sleeps with ocean waves or rain sounds on. He will always mean to set it on a timer but never does. He finds he goes to sleep so much easier with it there. Eventually you set up a playlist of your favourite sleep sounds podcasts together and sometimes you’ll mess with each other by adding funny ones