#its a rehearsal dinner for a wedding

[forestdeitty]

well fuck i bought a full length backless dress w a bow for this and i couldve just dressed like i was going to the office 🙄🙄🙄🙄

[isaadore]

ALWAYS THE BRIDESMAID, NEVER THE BRIDE CARLOS SAINZ

pairing carlos sainz x best friend!reader

SUMMARY as you stand beside carlos on his wedding day, watching him pledge his life to someone else, memories and silent hopes haunt you. for years, you’d been his confidante, his closest friend, maybe even the one meant for him—or so you thought. now, he slips away into a future that doesn’t include you. word count 1.9k words

warnings ANGST, the reader is kind of selfish and self-centered, carlos is also kind of a red flag

note there’s a possibility of a part 2 if u guys really want to see them together 🤞

THE CHAPEL IS QUIET besides the soft shuffle of footsteps and murmured instructions as people take their places for the wedding rehearsal. You stand toward the back, watching Carlos and his fiancée laugh together at the altar. The two of them look flawless—she, radiant in a dress that reflects the soft light of the stained glass, and him, with that familiar sparkle in his eye. But this time, the sparkle is for someone else. It hasn’t been for you in a long time, and you’ve accepted that. Mostly.

The officiant clears his throat, prompting everyone to get into place, and you feel a nudge at your elbow. One of the bridesmaids is giving you a soft, knowing smile. “You all right?” she asks, her voice a whisper. You return the smile with a nod, brushing off the pang in your chest. It’s silly, really, to feel this way now. But as you turn your attention back to Carlos, his easy laughter filling the room as he looks at his fiancée, you can’t help but feel like you’re watching something break apart inside yourself. You’ve known Carlos for over a decade; shared secrets, fears, dreams—and, maybe foolishly, you thought those moments meant something deeper. You thought, someday, it would be you he looked at like this.

The wedding rehearsal progresses, and everyone goes through the motions, but you drift in and out of focus, memories tugging you backward. You see yourself, more than a decade ago, sitting beside Carlos at a karting track, cheering on racers with passion. It was the summer you met, the two of you inseparable from that day on. You’d sat shoulder to shoulder, laughing and betting on who’d win, and he’d promised he’d race professionally one day. “Formula One,” he’d said with a grin, “just you watch.”

From then on, it was the two of you tackling life together, side by side. Countless late nights, coffee cups stacked high, pouring over notes, and talking about the future. His career took off like he promised, and you watched, proud, as he took to the track just like he’d always said he would. You were his constant cheerleader, always there in the stands for his races, always beside him when things went wrong, and always celebrating when they went right. Friends, family—even strangers—used to say you two were destined. “You’ll end up together, I can see it in your eyes,” they’d say, smiling knowingly. “It’s written in the stars.”

You never said anything to Carlos about those whispers, even when you let yourself hope there might be truth in them. But life, you learned, has its own plans. Time passed, people came and went, and somewhere along the way, the idea of “someday” slipped through your fingers. Carlos met her, and in what felt like an instant, everything changed. The moments you once shared were fewer, his time was taken, his heart somewhere you couldn’t reach. And soon enough, the two of you fell into this unspoken distance. You stayed silent, letting him drift, because you wanted him to be happy—even if it meant being just his friend.

The rehearsal dinner is a warm, intimate gathering, filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses. Carlos and his fiancée sit at the head of the table, surrounded by family and friends, all of whom raise a toast to the happy couple. You sit a little way down, listening to the speeches with a smile plastered on, wondering how, after all these years, you’re suddenly so far away from him. He doesn’t seem to notice, caught up in the moment, until later, when he manages to break free from the crowd and find you sitting alone.

“Hey,” he says, sliding into the chair beside you. His gaze is soft, filled with that familiar warmth, and for a second, it feels like you’re back to the two of you, just as you were before.

“Hey,” you respond, a little too casually, trying to hide the flutter in your chest.

He grins, nudging your arm. “I was just telling my fiancée about the time we drove halfway across the city in the middle of the night just because you wanted to see the sunrise over the ocean. She thinks we’re both crazy.”

“We were crazy,” you laugh, the memory bittersweet. “I think I still have sand in my shoes from that trip.” It feels so easy, talking to him like this, like slipping into an old, worn sweater that fits perfectly. And for a moment, the weight of everything else fades away.

His gaze grows distant, and there’s something in his eyes, almost nostalgic. “You remember when we used to joke about getting married if we were both still single by thirty?” he says, his tone light, but you can feel the undercurrent of something else in his voice.

Your heart skips, your own laughter catching in your throat. “I remember,” you say softly. It was always a joke, something you’d laugh about in those late-night talks, back when the idea of growing up still seemed distant. But it was a joke you both wanted to believe in, at least a little.

He meets your eyes, something unreadable flickering across his face, but then he brushes it off with a laugh. “Guess we got a little off track,” he says, his voice casual like he’s trying to make light of it.

You smile, trying to hide the ache inside. “Yeah. Life tends to do that.” You want to say more, to ask him if he ever wonders what might have been, but the words stick in your throat, trapped by the weight of years unspoken.

That night, you lie awake in your hotel room, staring at the ceiling as memories play like a silent movie across your mind. Every late-night conversation, every shared dream, every moment you thought you’d get to keep forever. The reality hits hard, and there’s a sense of finality in it all. Tomorrow, Carlos will belong to someone else in a way he’s never belonged to anyone, and all those years of silent hopes and what-ifs will finally be laid to rest.

A soft knock breaks the silence, and you know who it is before you even open the door. Carlos stands in the hallway, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable. “Couldn’t sleep,” he says quietly as if apologizing for being here.

Neither of you speaks as you let him in. He sits on the edge of your bed, looking around your room, and for a moment, you’re transported back to a thousand nights like this—quiet, comfortable, just the two of you in your own little world.

“Feels like old times, huh?” he murmurs, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. There’s a sadness in his eyes, something that tells you he’s feeling the weight of this moment, too.

You nod, swallowing against the tightness in your throat. You want to ask him why he came, why he couldn’t sleep, but instead, you ask the one question you’ve never dared to before. “Carlos… why her?”

He looks at you, startled as if he hadn’t expected the question. For a moment, he seems lost, his gaze shifting down to his hands, his fingers tracing patterns on his palm. “What do you mean?”

You hesitate, struggling to find the right words. “I just… I thought maybe…” You laugh softly, trying to make it sound casual, but the pain is unmistakable. “I thought we were closer, that maybe we could’ve… I don’t know.”

Carlos sighs, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re my best friend,” he says, and you can hear the sincerity in his voice. “You’ve always been there for me, through everything. But…” He trails off, searching for words that don’t quite come. “She fits into my life in a way that’s just… different.”

It’s a simple answer, but it hurts more than you’d expected. There’s no twist of fate, no reason beyond his choice, and somehow, that’s worse. Sometimes, love is just a decision, and he chose her.

The day of the wedding dawns bright and warm, and the chapel fills with guests, soft music floating through the air as they take their seats. You stand at the front in your bridesmaid’s dress, trying to ignore the weight of every whispered “what-if” that has lingered over you all these years. You can feel the stares from the guests, their knowing glances as they look at you, wondering why it was never you. They know the history you share with Carlos; they know the stories of two kids who were always meant to be something more. But life, you remind yourself, had other plans.

The music swells, and the bride begins her walk down the aisle. Everyone turns to watch her, but your gaze remains on Carlos, the way his face lights up as he sees her, the love in his eyes so clear, so unshakable. For a moment, he glances your way, and you think you see something—hesitation, maybe even regret—but it’s gone in an instant, replaced by a quiet resolve as he turns back to his bride.

The ceremony is beautiful, each word of his vows carving an ache deeper into your heart. He speaks of love, of loyalty, of promises he’ll keep, and you know he means every word. And as they say their vows, you realize, finally and completely, that this is the end of whatever you and Carlos once shared. The life you’d dreamed of with him will remain just that—a dream.

At the reception, the air buzzes with joy and laughter, everyone is caught up in the celebration. You watch from a distance as Carlos dances with his new wife, his gaze never leaving her. They are lost in each other, and you feel, more than ever, like an outsider, a ghost in someone else’s story. But as the night draws on, Carlos finds you, and for one last time, he pulls you into a dance.

“Thank you for being here,” he says softly, his hand warm in yours, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t think I could have done this without you.”

You force a smile, trying to mask the ache in your chest. “Always the bridesmaid, right?” you joke, but your voice cracks, betraying you.

Carlos’s hand tightens for a second, and there’s a look in his eyes you’ll never fully understand. For one last moment, you let yourself imagine that this is your wedding, that you’re the one he’s holding, that you’re the one he chose. But as the song ends, so does the illusion, and he steps back, letting you go. And you realize that this is how it was always meant to end.

As the night fades, you slip away quietly, watching from a distance as Carlos laughs and dances with his bride, surrounded by everyone who loves them. The story you’d clung to for so long is over, and as you walk away, leaving him to his new life, you feel the weight of a decade’s worth of memories finally begin to ease. Carlos will always be a part of you, and you will always be a part of him. But as you disappear into the night, the life you’d imagined fades into memory, a story that never came to be.

Maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ MAIN MASTERLIST ✷ CS55 MASTERLIST

[rafecameronssl4t]

Do Sarah and Wheezie get along with reader in the arranged/forced marriage au? It seems like they’re constantly going to dinners and events for readers family; does she ever hang with the Cameron’s? Is Rose a better mother figure to her than her own?

With the Cameron’s || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: I hope this gives you better insight into reader’s relationship with Rafe’s family plus bonus lil snippet of what Rafe is like during the pregnancy (will go more in depth in another fic)

Warnings: none really (not proofread)

Word count: 1,550

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

Divider by @h-aewo

"Are we running late? What if the plane leaves without us—" Wheezie’s voice quickly gets cut off by Rafe’s sharp tone, his irritation palpable. "Can you shut up for one second?" he snaps, huffing in frustration. His fingers press against his temples as if the very sound of her voice is grating on him.

The sharpness in his words makes you wince slightly, but when your eyes meet Sarah's across the seat, a faint smile tugs at your lips. Rafe’s temper wasn’t exactly a surprise anymore. "It’s our private jet, Wheezie," he continues, his voice now dropping to a bored drawl as he looks out the window, his hand settling possessively on your thigh, squeezing it as the runway comes into view.

"They're not going anywhere without us." You shift slightly under his touch, not used to these fleeting moments of affection in front of the Cameron's, but you say nothing. It’s a part of your dynamic now—Rafe’s firm grip on control, always balancing on a fine line between caring and detached. Rose, sitting in front, turns around, concern flashing in her eyes.

"Is it safe for you to travel, Y/n?" Her voice is soft, almost maternal, a stark contrast to your own mother. You manage a small smile, trying to ease her worries. "Yeah, perfectly fine. I checked in with our doctors." Your tone is calm, almost rehearsed, as if you’ve had to explain this more times than you can count. Rose nods, satisfied, and returns her attention to her phone.

As the car slows down, Wheezie’s eyes widen when she finally sees the jet, her loud gasp shifting everyone's attention. "Woah," she breathes, her face lighting up in awe at the sight of the sleek aircraft, the one your grandparents had gifted you after the wedding. "Pretty nice, huh?" you tease, nudging her lightly. Her excitement was always contagious, and like always, you let yourself enjoy it.

"Your first time flying private?" you ask, winking at her as she nods vigorously, still mesmerised by the plane. The car rolls to a stop, and Rafe is the first to get out, his movements confident and deliberate. Without a word, he turns back toward you, offering his hand. Gratefully, you take it, carefully stepping out, feeling the cool breeze brush against your skin.

Your eyes sweep across the aircraft, its polished surface glinting in the sunlight as you feel Rafe wrap your shawl around your shoulders. Your eyes scan the jet, taking in its sleek lines and pristine exterior. It’s a symbol of the life you’ve been thrust into—luxurious, yes, but hollow in so many ways.

"Mr. and Mrs. Cameron, a pleasure to see you again," Anthony, the pilot, greets both of you, extending his hand to Rafe’s first, then yours for a firm handshake. "Good to see you too, Anthony," you reply politely, flashing a smile that feels more natural now. While Rafe and the pilot exchange words about flight plans and weather conditions, you glance back at Sarah, who is still staring at the plane in disbelief.

"I can’t believe I’m about to fly on a private jet," Sarah murmurs, almost to herself. You chuckle softly, catching her wide-eyed expression. "You better believe it, Sarah," you say, the humour in your voice masking the exhaustion underneath. It was a strange life—one you still weren’t fully used to—but moments like these reminded you how surreal it could all be.

You step closer to where Rafe and Anthony stand, their conversation coming to a halt as you approach. "Is everything as it should be?" you ask, your gaze flicking between them. Rafe shifts slightly, turning toward you, while Anthony’s face brightens with a warm, professional smile. "Yes, everything is set," Anthony replies, his voice reassuring.

"The flight to New York should be only around an hour and a half." His smile deepens, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling with a sense of familiarity. You nod in acknowledgment, your hand instinctively moving to rest on your belly. The action doesn't go unnoticed by Anthony, who follows your gesture. "How many weeks are you now?" he asks with genuine curiosity.

You hesitate for a moment, your mind blanking under the weight of small details, suddenly unsure. "Oh, uh—34 weeks now?" you reply, though your tone carries a hint of uncertainty. You turn to Rafe for confirmation, and he's already watching you, that rare, softer expression gracing his usually unreadable face. "35 tomorrow, actually," Rafe corrects, his voice gentle as he pulls you closer, his arm wrapping protectively around your waist.

The motion feels natural, almost instinctive, though there's still a flicker of surprise at how he’s been acting since you've been pregnant. His thumb brushes lightly against your side, almost absentmindedly, as if his hand belonged there. It’s a small gesture, but it lingers, and for a moment, you can’t help but feel a sense of unfamiliar warmth in his touch.

He looks back at Anthony, who nods knowingly. "You're in good hands," Anthony says with a wink, glancing between the two of you before excusing himself to check the final details for the flight. You stay pressed to Rafe’s side for a moment longer than usual, the warmth of his touch and the gentle smile he’d given you lingering. As you follow Rafe up the steps of the plane, his hand reaches back toward you, a silent gesture that feels automatic.

You pause for a moment, looking at his extended hand, then slide yours into it. His grip tightens, pulling you up the stairs with a familiarity that’s still strange to you despite how long it’s been. His attention is already elsewhere, but there’s something steady in the way he holds on. The second you step inside, Wheezie lets out a gasp, her eyes wide as she takes in the lavish interior. "Oh my god," she whispers, her voice filled with awe.

Sarah, beside her, shares the same shocked expression, her mouth slightly agape as she slowly looks around. Rose, ever composed, gracefully accepts a flute of champagne handed to her by the flight attendant, her lips curling into a satisfied smile as she takes a seat on one of the plush leather chairs. "I could get used to this," she says with a contented hum, easing herself into one of the leather seats as she crosses her legs, holding the glass delicately.

"You know, Rose, you can use my jet whenever you want," you say, settling into the seat across from her. There’s a familiar warmth in your voice because with Rose, you didn’t have to hold back as much. She’d seen you at your best and your worst, and over time, a genuine bond had grown between you two. "You're family," you add with a small smile.

Your words are warm, genuine, and for a moment, you feel a small sense of pride in being able to extend such a gesture. It was your grandparents’ gift, after all, but now it felt like another small piece of the life you were slowly building alongside Rafe, complicated as it was. Rose glances up at you, her lips curving into a fond smile. "Thank you, Y/n. That's really sweet of you, darling."

She lifts her champagne glass slightly in a subtle toast of appreciation. Between Rose and Ward, you had always preferred Rose. You return her smile, her eyes sparkling with the kind of closeness that comes with shared secrets and long afternoons together. There was an ease with her that you didn’t find in Ward's scrutinising gaze.

The two of you had even started forming your own little rituals—getting your hair and nails done together, sharing gossip that never left the salon. In a family where appearances were everything, it was a quiet comfort to have someone you could let your guard down with, even just a little. Rose had been the one who welcomed you the most. From the outside, she appeared cool and distant, but you knew better.

Rose raises her glass slightly in a toast. "Here’s to us," she says, her tone light and affectionate. You chuckle softly, lifting an imaginary glass in response. "To us," you echo, feeling a familiar sense of comfort in her presence. Rose had become more of a mother figure to you than anything else, a relationship that had blossomed in the shadows of family expectations and high society obligations.

She offered you the warmth and guidance your own mother never quite gave, filling the void with her quiet support and understanding. Rose had a way of making you feel seen in a world that often demanded you play a role. With her, it wasn’t about maintaining facades or living up to expectations—it was about the genuine bond you had formed through shared experiences and mutual respect.

There were times you confided in her—about your uncertainties with Rafe, about the overwhelming pressure of impending motherhood—and she always listened, offering advice that felt sincere rather than patronising. She knew the world you had been thrust into, had navigated it herself long before you, and in her own way, she helped you find your footing.

[contentloadingandstuff]

Smut Headcanons - Furina & Navia

A/N: While I have the Furina stuff I promised (smut + relationship + parenting headcanons) ready, I decided to split them up in three posts to go with another character. This way, the reader can enjoy exactly what they want. Anyway, enjoy! CW: Nothing, just vanilla ice cream here.

Furina de Fontaine? Yes, of course she is nothing if not the best at this whole “sex” thing! There are hardly any things she struggles with less than marital fornication, she'll have you know! 

Please go easy on her. She has no idea whatsoever. 

While it's true that throughout her long life she had read through many explicit books and brochures, mostly without pictures, her lack of personal interaction with the male body leads to her being quite clueless the first few times around. She doesn't really know how to please you, more - she barely even knows what she likes herself.

It's natural for gods to be less sexual than humans, which is all the more unfortunate for Furina. She kept the lifespan, but was left with a human set of emotions and needs that was doomed to wither over the centuries. But not all is lost - now that her days of godhood are over and she could finally become human - with a human lifespan and the ability to fully express her emotions. It will take time, but, with enough practice, she'll catch up. 

Communication is key. Don't hesitate to “order” her around. Tell her what feels good, what doesn't, what you'd like her to do and more. Furina will follow your example and share what she can - although the storm of moans and whimpers should serve as more than enough of a pointer. 

Furina is surprisingly confident in the bedroom. When she finds something she likes, she'll definitely let you know. She will, between shivering and gripping the sheets, encourage you or give you some pointers, as much as her state will allow. She's not scared to initiate and when she does, she always goes in with a plan. Knocking her off balance with some teasing of your own is sure to leave her in tatters though…

Furina is quite the fan of plays and works talking about romance, so her view of the subject is much closer to “making love” than to any other way to describe sex. As such, she enjoys plenty of prep before the main event - a romantic dinner, some proper foreplay, some teasing beforehand… She enjoys working yourselves up to the main thing. Getting in the right mood is a must for her, and when she's there, there's no keeping her hands off you.

Don't let her outspoken and loud way of carrying herself fool you - the closer you get to her, the more shy Furina becomes - especially if no clothes are involved. She'll have you believe that it's completely natural for a small girl like her to be intimidated by a taller and far stronger man, unwilling to openly state that she happily lays back and lets you do whatever you want to her most days. 

On the occasion that she has something specific in mind, it usually involves a bit of dressing up - she's quite fond of theater, after all. She can afford costumes and dresses galore, both for you and herself. It does take quite a bit of time, getting herself perfectly dolled up for the occasion, but it's no problem - seeing herself so disheveled, undressed and messy after you're done with her is totally worth the effort. 

A nice session of light play-acting is Furina’s favourite way to spice things up. She can be whoever you want - a damsel in distress, longing for the body of her noble knight, an actress getting some more hands-on rehearsals, or perhaps her favourite - the shy, freshly taken bride. Furina never parted with her wedding dress and takes it out for a spin, from time to time. It fits her perfectly, and thanks to Chiori’s expertise in material selection, is also easy to clean from… certain substances. 

But sometimes all Furina wants to do is let loose, be herself and just get some lovely, passionate pounding. Doggy no doubt has its bonuses in that regard, but she’d much rather see your face twist in pleasure as her slick hole pleasures you to completion. She enjoys missionary the most, with her hands clasping around yours for support or desperately clinging onto the sheets below. Furina is all about kissing, so expect your mouth to be occupied, and remember - nothing is hotter for her than you looking her straight in the eye as you nut inside. She won’t complain if you boast about how much you’ve filled her up - after all, you’re quite the lover, and it’s only right for you to be proud of what you can do to her. 

Don’t be alarmed if you find Furina shedding a few tears while her guts are being rearranged - that’s just how she responds to overstimulation. She doesn’t want you to stop any time soon, of course… But a kiss and a squeeze of her hand would surely motivate her to take you further in! 

She spends a lot of time grooming herself to perfection, with most of the time going towards shaving herself. She enjoys nice, smooth skin everywhere below the neck. Furina does mind hair, and you would make her very happy if you kept yourself like that as well. Why would she want to have all this nasty hair obscuring the goods? 

Furina is aware of how unlucky she is, to be created with not much of a cleavage. She tends to be hyper aware of her deficiency - or at least that’s how she views it. Your girl tends to skip out on nipple or boob play for that exact reason. She’s yours, and so is her body - if her body can’t offer you all it should, she’s not a good wife, is she? She would love you to be able to slide your cock between them and fuck them to completion, but they are, unfortunately, very flat. Over time, however, your love and encouragement helped her dismiss these harmful beliefs of inadequacy. So much so that she's grown to cherish her form.

She's proud of what she has, and loves to show herself off with expensive sets of lingerie. Unlike, say, the extendable cutlery she bought, these come in use regularly. She always picks those one size smaller to accentuate the nice fluff around her thighs and belly - a woman must have some plush on herself, after all! Couple that with long gloves and thigh highs, one darker and one brighter to match her eyes of course, and you've got yourself an outfit Furina feels beautiful in. 

And desired, too. They are nice, yes, but not as much as the feeling of you stripping them off her. She likes passion, and very much enjoys seeing you lose control of your desire for her. Don't hold your moans, say whatever comes to mind - even if it is her name over and over and over again, she will listen intently and whine your name in concert. 

The bed’s your stage, while you and her play the main roles. 

For her, you are the main attraction of the show. You and your glorious, male body. Navia? She's a big fan of that. 

The straight posture, the beautifully flat, strong chest, these powerful arms, the big hands, the meaty calves… You're incredibly handsome, so why wouldn't she spend her nights worshiping and touching you? 

When it comes to herself, she doesn't mind most things. Sure, she likes being the center of your attention, but being the receiver excites her much less than giving. While she'll take a long while to cum with your tongue, just sucking you off is enough to make her squirt on her fingers. Sex is all good, but she'll be more passionate if you just lay back and let her do the work. 

Let her take the lead - here, you're the star, and she's more than eager to see you enjoy yourself. Navia loves servicing you and bringing out those delicious, deep moans and sighs. She gets absolutely soaking at the thought that it's all the doing of her skillful hands and abundant body. 

Navia Rich cleavage, fat butt and a spacious pussy - Navia has it all, and you're more than welcome to help yourself. She'll be thrilled if you make good and frequent use of her, as - surprise surprise - women have needs too. It's unfair - why can you be absolutely horny for her, but it's improper for her to drool over you? Well, that's how it is in public, but behind closed doors, you're game. 

Navia is the unchallenged queen of handling your manhood. Learning about you, memorising the shape of your cock, adjusting her insides to fit you like a glove, learning where to touch to make you shiver… It was great fun, and Navia enjoys having the chance to explore you further with various kinks. She's not going to say no to anything when it comes to your hefty package, that's for sure. 

While not having much for herself, Navia owns a host of toys to use on you in the sheets. Would you like her to tie you up? Maybe edge you with a pocket pussy? How about tying the base of your cock for some extended sessions? Whatever you want, whatever you need, she likely has it in her collection - and if she doesn't, it won't be for long. All she needs is your word.

Navia is known for her positive and energetic approach to her role, but every girl needs a pick-me-up once in a while, doesn't she? Navia won't mind if you come over and sneak with her into a closet or let her get under the desk for some naughty time~

Nothing turns her on more than your pleasure. Seeing your hand tighten around the armrest as she edges you, feeling your hand push her head up and down as you use her throat as a toy or hearing you struggle to get all the cum out when she milks you for all your worth is something she greatly looks forward to. So much so that, if you give her this privilege, she'll whip out a Kamera to keep that moment for years to come. 

Of course, it will be focused on you. She wants to capture what she loves the most - your pleasure. She'll let the Kamera roll as you rail her into the bed, capturing all these lovely moans and expressions of bliss, as well as your grunts as you selfishly chase your own pleasure, uncaring if she will handle the pounding. One of her favourites is recording your balls as they slam against her cunt in doggy or missionary, capturing your voice and the obscene noises her pussy makes as your fuck her to completion. She'll return to them when she’s away, rubbing and fingering herself to the image of you in careless, primal bliss. 

That's another thing she loves to see - primal lust. The sight of you senselessly and violently fucking a toy is her favourite thing to get off to, especially that she knows she's going to be the toy next. Be rough with her - she can take it. Just don't you dare go silent on her, now! You have a voice, so use it - moan, whine, sigh and growl for her. Navia wants to know just how much you enjoy using her body. 

But sometimes she's in a more needy mood, especially when you've been quiet the last few times around. Navia knows that there's nothing worse for a guy than denial, so she'll strap you down and play with your dick, edging you without pause until you cry and beg for release. Or, alternatively, she'll work your head and prostate, forcing you to give up everything in your balls to her. The longer it goes on, the more you struggle, and the more frantic your pleas become. Music to her ears. 

Navia finds it so hot when you act needy, even when it's as simple as asking for some attention. Want a handy? She'll give you a helping hand, no questions asked. Need your balls emptied with some mouth work? Navia is on the case. You're in need of a quickie? Feel free to bend her over and yank those panties down - she's on the pill, so cum away. Be ready to zip down your fly for her too - sometimes, a quick suck can really lift her spirits. When she has a day off, expect lots of messing in the sheets. 

Morning sex? Yes please! She'll gladly have you wake up to lewd sounds of slurping and her lips wrapped around your cock, if you'll let her. And once you fully wake up, you'll get to feel her ride you in the rays of the morning light. 

She's the type of girl that loves cum. Expect lots of positive encouragement to blow your load, no matter if it comes quickly - it's a compliment for her doing a great job, right? When you finally give in to her talented ministrations, she'll make sure to put on a show for you. Each part of her (except the hair, cum is quite annoying to get out of there without taking a shower) is fair game when it comes to coming. If you feel like giving her a mouthful, she'll swallow it up and show you a clean mouth as proof. Her favourite spot, though, is the face - it might mess with her make-up, but its warmth and smell feels so naughtily good on her face, and she'll make sure you're watching her gather it up and lick it off her fingers with a proud, smug smirk.

Navia isn't a fan of condoms, not at all. She’d much rather take a pill or slap on a patch than wrap you in rubber. Besides, Navia always wanted to have plenty of kids, so when the time comes, she'll passionately encourage you to knock her up. Having her stomach swollen with a baby - that you put into her, which she will make sure to praise you for - makes her feel beautiful, even if she has to buy bigger clothes. Luckily for her, she can still suck your cock with a big belly, so it's not much of a problem in that department. 

With Navia, it's cowgirl all the way. Not only do you get to see her tits swing and her beautiful face, but you also get a taste of her excellent riding skills. She likes this position as it allows her to see your face contorted in pleasure. She will adjust the pace and depth to better milk you, or keep you on the edge of orgasm and enjoy seeing you lose your mind to pleasure. 

Thanks for reading!

[lvis44]

Sweet Escape - The Wedding Pt.1 // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Y/N

Warnings: Language, Alcohol Consumption, its really just a whole lot of fluff

Word Count: 1.7k+

Summary: Paradise is supposed to be fun and relaxing... a Sweet Escape, but when unspoken feelings and jealousy rise to the surface, everything can be turned upside down in the blink of an eye.

Notes: The beginning of the long awaited wedding! I have decided I will be releasing this in chunks, I cannot guarantee when each one will be coming but it will all be in the universe soon enough. I love you all and appreciate those of you have been kind and patient, I'm still here y'all I promise. Once again I cannot follow the same tense while writing and this has not been fully edited.

I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy! xxx

Previous Sections: Prologue - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Epilogue

What if I come and stay until 11:55?” His voice is whiny and desperate, making you laugh.

“Lewis, you have to go before Charlotte and Miles come and drag you.” You tell your pouting fiancé, still laughing at him.

You’re standing outside the fancy restaurant rented for your rehearsal dinner, snow falling around you as people start to clear out. Lewis had been attached to your hip for the last few days, his adoration for you only growing as you two approached your wedding day, The day that you had perfectly planned together.

“Wanna sleep next to you though.” Lewis says quietly, a cheeky smirk on his face as he pulls you against him, his hand traveling down to your bum.

“Lew! My parents are right there.” You whisper shout, grabbing his forearm to move it up to your lower back.

He just laughed, shaking his head before pressing himself against you even firmer, “Seriously, can we stay together just a little while longer? Promise I’ll leave before midnight.”

You could tell his intentions weren’t to sleep and you knew you would be hard pressed to kick him out later in the evening. You’re not a particularly traditional person but you were holding to sleeping apart the night before the wedding, much to his dismay. His mother had been the one to bring it up during wedding planning and while Lewis thought it was a horrible concept you were more than happy to go along, it made her happy and it made everything feel even more real. Two suites had been rented for the night at different hotels, mostly to keep Lewis from sneaking into your bed in the middle of the night.

“Bruv, if you don’t let go of her and come get in the damn car, I will remove you myself.” Miles’ voice boomed from behind you, saving you from having to turn your fiancé down yet again.

You couldn’t help but laugh, knowing Miles and Charlotte were tightly wound, the stress getting to them both as if it was their own wedding. You could see that Lewis was finally accepting defeat, rolling his eyes but nodding to Miles, motioning that he would be there in a second.

“It’s fucking crazy that the next time I see you will be at the altar.” Lewis whispers, looking giddy yet anxious.

“Gonna be Mrs. Hamilton tomorrow!” Your voice was quiet as you tried to hold back your squeal of excitement.

You were beyond elated to be marrying your best friend. When he proposed he had made it very clear that you could be engaged as long as you wanted, that nothing needed to be rushed. Only two years later you were here, ready to marry the love of your life in less than twenty four hours.

“Son, I think Miles is going to explode if we don’t all get going.” You hear Anthony laugh from nearby, evidently amused by the frantic state that Miles was in.

“Okay, okay.” Lewis just laughs, glancing at Miles who was now pacing outside of the black town car.

“I love you, get some sleep, need you in tip top shape tomorrow.” You say to Lewis, leaning up to place a family friendly kiss to his lips as you pat his chest

“Yes ma’am, I love you too.” Lewis mumbles against your lips.

Lewis stares at you for a moment, love pouring out of his dark brown eyes before squeezing your waist once more and walking off toward Miles who looks about ready to shove Lewis into the trunk if it means they’ll leave any quicker. Having said your goodbyes to everyone earlier, you make your way over toward Charlotte where she’s waiting by your own matching town car.

“You look much calmer than Miles was.” You laugh as she makes a ridiculous display of opening the door for you.

“Well thankfully I’m in charge of the much easier spouse,” She giggles, following you into the car, “I knew you’d stick to your guns and send him on his way. Miles on the other hand has about ten different plans of ways to just about lock Lewis in his room, pretty sure a straight jacket is on the table.”

You can’t help but laugh, knowing Lewis will more than likely continue to complain throughout the night. You would be lying if you said you truly didn’t want to be next to him for the night, you always sleep better in his arms, but you know one night away from each other won’t kill either of you, you’ve done it countless times before. It’s been rather adorable to you how clingy Lewis had gotten over the past few weeks, it was rather unlike him but you weren’t going to fight it. You know it’s something he does sometimes when he needs to ground himself, and right now his emotions are at an all time high. There had been a few snafus with decorations and such in the weeks leading up to now, each one seemed to wind him that much tighter, the perfectionist in him struggling.

When you arrived in the suite you were exhausted and ready for your pajamas but knew there was no way you were ready to go to sleep just yet. Your mom was waiting for you in the suite when you arrived, already opening a bottle of wine and urging you and Charlotte to come sit with her, a much needed moment of decompression. You’ve been busy all day; last minute preparations, the wedding rehearsal, the rehearsal dinner with all of both of your families. You were drained yet still so full of adrenaline. Being around Lewis all day had helped immensely, always so in tune with each others moods and needs, more than once he had rescued you from a conversation that felt like it had just gone on too long. It also helped that he was bubbling with excitement and energy, even after so long you frequently questioned where he got it, the level rarely faltering.

It wasn’t long before Charlotte was excusing herself to go get ready for bed, leaving you alone with your mom.

“This is all still so crazy to me.” Your moms voice is quiet and kind.

“Which part?” You laugh, taking a sip of your wine.

“All of it!” You mom says, gesturing into the air, “The fact that my baby is getting married, that her wedding is in a castle, that she’s marrying a man that we watched and admired racing for years, the fact that he’s the love of her life, just all of it.”

You couldn’t help but smile at your moms little rant, because it was true, so much of it felt surreal but everything was perfect.

“I wouldn’t trade any of it for the world.” You tell her softly, sincerely, taking a moment to think back on everything that has happened over the last three years.

Growing up, Sundays were reserved for F1, you and your mom massive Hamilton fans from the very beginning of his career. When you had told her that you had met him she freaked out nearly as much as you originally had, fangirling in a way you had never thought possible. Your dad thought it was impressive too, making a comment about you never leaving the city to come home and visit them now that you were hanging out with celebrities. When you told your parents that you were dating, your mom was incredibly happy for you but never let her admiration of Lewis get in the way of her daughter's well being, she made sure to check in with you frequently, always worried that his distance and status may be taking a toll on you. Your father on the other hand was less than pleased when he first learned about your relationship, preconceived notions about Lewis’ personal life and persona taking over, less than pleased with the age difference between the two of you. It took a while, but Lewis was able to win him over and you’ve never been more grateful for anything, you were desperate for all the people you loved to get along.

Now you had a fiancé who spoke with your father without you needing to be around, a mother who had befriended Lewis’ mother and stepmother and adored him, and were mere hours away from becoming his wife. Life truly does come at you fast.

“You’re ready?” Your mom asked, breaking the silence that had settled in the room.

“I truly don’t think I’ve ever been so ready for something. I’m nervous of course but there’s no one else that I would rather be with for the rest of my life. I’m sure of that.” Your voice was confident as you spoke, meaning every word.

“I’m so glad you found someone so good for you hun, he truly is a dream. Hell, I wish I had met someone like him when I was your age,” Your mom laughed, sending you a wink, “don’t tell your dad I said that.”

“Secrets safe with me,” You giggled back, “but I don’t think there’s another one of him.”

“Not that I’ve ever seen.” Your mom shrugged, the soft smile never leaving her face.

You can’t help but giggle at the conversation you're having with your mother. You’ve never been one to be sappy but the emotions boiling inside of you leading up to your big day are sending you over the edge, truly letting all the cliche thoughts you have about Lewis come to the forefront.

“You, my dear, need to get to bed. You have a long day ahead of you and need to be well rested for your night.” Your mom winked making you groan through a laugh.

“Mom!” You buried your head in your hands.

You and your mom have always been open with each other about every aspect of your life but you didn’t need to hear her joke about you consummating your marriage.

“But truly, you should try to get some sleep.” She laughed at your embarrassment, trying and failing to come off seriously.

“You’re right, I’ll try.” You say, rolling your eyes as you finish off the last of the wine in your glass

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

please write some conrad fics, the tag has been DRY

Is there a Aaron Dessner that has produced that is not heartbreaking? The Great war, Tolerate it, Right where you left me, You’re losing me, Would’ve could’ve should’ve. I have nothing against Jack, but when Aaron is involved, things…hit different.  

The acronym switching from love of my life to loss of my life *UGLY CRYING*

Warnings: heartbreak

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

When coming to Cousins for Belly and Jeremiah’s wedding, you knew it would be impossible to go through a whole weekend of wedding festivities without speaking to Conrad. You tried to avoid him, but he was always right there. In the kitchen talking with Laurel. In the living room with Jeremiah and Belly. In the backyard with Steven helping set up the chairs and tables under Taylor’s instructions. 

At least he didn’t come to the wedding with a girl. It would have hurt too much.

‘’I can’t believe our Belly is getting married,’’ you said as you all sat in the living room for the smallest bachelorette party. 

There was no male stripper dancing or crazy alcohol consumption like you see in movies. Just matching pajamas, a plastic ‘bride’ crown Anika got online, and sparkling mocktails. Laurel felt out of place among the younger girls, but it was her daughter’s bachelorette. She couldn’t not be there.

Taylor took a cupcake from the table, all decorated to perfection by you. ‘’I would have never guessed she would be the first of us to marry. We all thought it would be you and Con—’’ She stopped herself when she saw Belly looking at you, realizing that if she finished her sentence it would hurt you. 

A silence fell and a lump settled in your throat. You brought your drink to your lips, wishing there was alcohol in it. Drowning your sorrows in alcohol is not the solution, but it’s good at temporarily numbing the pain.

I thought that too.

Your parents bought their holiday house in Cousins where you were ten and you had known the Fishers and the Conklins since. Susannah had invited you over to play with her kids — to make friends. Although you were closer to Jeremiah and Belly in age, it was Conrad who got along with you the best. He taught you how to play Uno, came to get you when you swam too far at the beach and helped you clean your dress when stained it eating a blue popsicle. He was always nice to you. Patient and caring. As you got older, he was only looking at you. Everyone noticed, but no one said anything. He’s just always been yours. 

Until he wasn’t. 

You didn’t want to sour the ambiance or steal the attention from the bride-to-be, so you got up and excused yourself to the bathroom. You closed the door, feeling the quiet sanctuary of solitude envelop you. Memories of you and Conrad flooded your mind, each more painful than its predecessor. Nothing would ever compare to the pain this breakup felt. 

Leaning against the sink, you stared at your reflection in the mirror, tears welling up and blurring your vision. You tried to make them go away by fanning your eyes, but they overflowed, carrying with them the weight of five years of heartache.

How could it still hurt after all this time?

With trembling hands, you reached for a tissue, dabbing at your eyes, but the tears kept coming. ‘’Please, stop.’’ 

In the morning, you woke up on a blow-up mattress in Belly’s room. Your eyes were sensitive from crying and red. You tried to cover it with eye-drops and makeup, but when you came down for breakfast and Belly pulled you in a tight hug, you knew you didn’t do a great job. 

Jeremiah eyed the two of you, raising an eyebrow and silently asking what was up, but Belly shook her head. 

The rest of the day went without any downpour of tears. A part of the afternoon was spent tanning under the sun and drinking lemonades, relishing in the last moments of tranquility before the evening's rehearsal dinner. The place was going to get filled with family members and other guests soon and it’ll get very crowded. 

Steven joined you in Belly’s bedroom as you were getting ready for dinner, still wet from being at the beach with the boys. He tried to get a kiss from Taylor, but she pushed him off as he was dripping water all over her makeup bag. Jeremiah laughed in the doorway, blowing a kiss to Belly before parting to his own bedroom to change. 

Although you weren’t the only single person in the room, you never felt more alone.  

At the dinner, you sat listening to the speeches about Belly and Jeremiah’s love. Without surprise, Steve made sure to embarrass the couple and Laurel was unable to hold back her tears when her turn came. Childhood stories and teenage anecdotes about their early moments of relationship made the guests laugh and smile. 

Everything seemed to be going smoothly until Adam inadvertently attributed a story to Belly and Jeremiah, when in fact it was about you and Conrad. The frown on Jeremiah’s forehead as his father continued to speak matched Belly, both of them not knowing what he was talking about. 

‘’Eh, Dad, Belly didn’t come to my prom…’’ Jeremiah whispered to his father. ‘’I went to hers and she was wearing a purple dress, not green.’’ 

Adam paused, his realization dawning slowly. ‘’Oh. You’re right. That was Conrad. I caught him and his girl making out outside the house when they came back. Susannah was out of her mind for allowing her to sleep over…’’  

The revelation hung in the air, accompanied by an uncomfortable silence. Your grip on the glass of wine tightened involuntarily, the pressure causing it to shatter in your hand. Shards of glass cut into your skin as crimson droplets mixed with the spilled wine. 

Beside you, Taylor gasped in concern, her eyes widening at the sight. ‘’Oh my god, are you—’’ 

Ignoring the sting of pain and Taylor’s voice, you excused yourself and hurried inside to tend to your injury. You grabbed some paper towels and pressed them over your cuts. 

Unbeknownst to you, Conrad followed after you. As you stood there, watching the white soak and turn red, you felt his presence behind you. ‘’Don’t do that.’’ His touch was gentle as he took your hand and removed the soiled paper towels, placing them on the counter. ‘’Never apply pressure to an injury that’s not clean of debris. You’ll push them further in,’’ he advised, the doctor in him speaking. ‘’Let me see.’’ 

‘’I’m fine. Don’t worry about me,’’ you insisted, attempting to brush off his concern. ‘’Go back to everyone else, it’s almost time for the best man’s speech.’’ 

But Conrad didn’t budge. ‘’Sit here. I need to check if there’s glass in it.’’ he urged, his tone firm yet caring. 

Knowing there was no way out of this, you sat on one of the kitchen stools and let Conrad check your injury. He turned on the kitchen tap and you hissed as the water hit your freshly cut skin, the cool liquid soothing the sharp ache. 

You sat there as Conrad tended to your wound in silence, his fingers gentle as he inspected your hand for any embedded glass fragments. You couldn't help but notice the warmth of his touch and the upgraded woodsy cologne, their familiarity causing your heart to flutter despite the pain. 

His focus was entirely on your hand, his brow furrowed in concentration. It reminded you of that one time you fell from your bike and he patched up your knee and elbow. Once he made sure there was no glass in it, he went to fetch an antiseptic and gauze from the bathroom.  

As he was wrapping it up, you thanked him. A simple ‘thanks’. 

‘’Be careful drinking wine, next time.’’ Conrad meant it as a light teasing, but you weren’t in a mood to laugh.

‘’Don’t say anything. Please,’’ you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper. ‘’It hurts seeing you — it really hurts. So much that I didn’t want to come to the wedding, but I couldn’t miss Belly’s big day. I couldn’t do that to her. What type of friend would I be?’’ The weight of your words hung heavy in the air between you, the truth of them echoing in the silence of the room. ‘’But being here, watching her and Jeremiah getting married is killing me because that should have been us,’’ you continued, your voice trembling with emotion. ‘’This house is where we met; every corner holds tons of memories of us and it’s haunting me, torturing me since I got here.’’

‘’I never wanted to hurt you. I’m sorry—’’ 

‘’You’re sorry? No sorry will be enough,’’ you said. ‘’You told me I'm the love of your life about a million times. You said you would never leave. But you did. I loved you so much— You were it for me, Conrad. It was always you. But now you’re the loss of my life.’’ 

He said your name, but once again, you didn’t let him speak. 

You got down from the stool, the stinging pain in your hand still present. ‘’I should get back outside. Hopefully Laurel knows a way to get blood out of my dress.’’

—

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[moremaybank]

'TIL DEATH DO US PART — r.c

pairing rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary the night before your wedding, rafe reminds you that you'll always belong to him

warnings 18+, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, cheating, breeding kink (ish), creampie, language

author's note heyyy new layouttt. also i accidentally deleted the request for this bc i'm an actual idiot. don't hate me pls

rafe masterlist

Your rehearsal dinner looks like something out of a movie. A soft, warm light is cast around the room, reflecting off the chandelier hanging from the centre of the ceiling beautifully. The hall is jam-packed with almost every kook on the island, who are all dressed to the nines and engaging in small talk. 

You spot your fiancé Jackson across the way, catching up with some of his old friends from college. He throws his head back in laughter, assumably in response to a joke, and you smile at how happy he looks. 

A year ago, you never would’ve imagined that you’d find yourself engaged to Jackson. Truthfully, you only ever saw yourself marrying a certain Cameron boy. But things change. You still aren't sure for better or worse, but they have nonetheless. 

Deciding that you need another drink after thinking about he who shall not be named, you navigate through the crowd in pursuit of the bar. 

“A shot of tequila, please.” 

The bartender nods, grabbing a shot glass off one of the shelves and topping it up. You bid him a thank you and quickly down the contents of the small glass. You shut your eyes at the slight burn, feeling the warmth make its way down your system. You let it wash away the memories of him. Even after all this time, you can still feel his hands on you and his soul intertwined with yours, as if he left an imprint on you forever. 

He branded you, and you’ll never forget it, not even when you’re married to Jackson. 

You know it’s horrible. It’s awful. Jackson is an incredible guy. He’s everything Rafe isn’t, everything Rafe could never be, and you can see yourself being happy with him for the rest of your life. But even so, deep down, you still yearn for the imperfection and flawed love that came with being Rafe’s. 

You request another shot, knocking it back faster than your brain can process. The guilt is eating you alive, and you’re desperate to kill it. You shouldn’t be thinking about him. Not here, not now, and certainly not with your poor, unknowing fiancé across the room.

“Rough night?”

A chill runs down your spine, and goosebumps prick at your skin. It’s as if your senses have just come alive at the mere sound of his voice. 

You prepare yourself, shutting your eyes and taking a deep breath before turning around to face him.

There he is, standing in all his devilishly handsome glory. His eyes are as icy and blue as ever, his sharp features already making you weak in the knees. His body is clad in a perfectly tailored Armani suit, with dress shoes to match. 

It’s shameful to admit, but he looks gorgeous. Then again, when does he not?

“What the hell are you doing here?” 

He inches closer to you, his dress shoes lightly clacking against the marble tiles of the floor. “Relax, princess. I just came here to give you your wedding gift, seeing as I’m not invited to the actual wedding.”

“You weren’t invited here, either. If Jackson sees you—”

“—Let him see me. I don’t care.”

Same old Rafe Cameron, you think, cocky as ever.

“You can’t be here, Rafe. I’m not going to let you ruin this for me.” 

Your hands find his arms, and you spin him around before shoving him and making a beeline for the doors. You locate the nearest restroom and push him inside, locking the door behind the two of you.

“I gotta say, I’m not feeling very welcome here,” Rafe notes. 

“That’s because you aren’t. You know Jackson has always felt insecure about our past. It’s not fair of you to come here and try to stir the pot the night before our wedding. You have to go, Rafe.”

Rafe’s eyes trail down your form. The dress you’re wearing outlines your curves perfectly. Your arms are crossed against your chest, further accentuating your cleavage. Thanks to the heels strapped around your ankles, your legs look longer, and you’re glowing more than ever.

“You look stunning,” he notes, rubbing his fingers against his lips as he drinks you in. 

“Why are you here? Seriously.” 

“C’mon, baby. You didn’t think I’d let you marry that fucker without getting one last taste of what’s mine, did you?” 

A sinister-like smirk plasters itself on his face when he notices your stern expression falter, and he knows his words are having the desired effect on you. 

“Don’t go there, Rafe,��� you say, walking over to the sink and creating more distance between you. You brace your hands on the counter, taking a deep breath and purposely avoiding Rafe’s heated gaze in the mirror's reflection. 

“Why? ‘Cause you’ll jump at the chance?” He asks, stepping closer to you. “I can see it in your eyes, princess. You miss me.”

You scoff, “Actually, I don’t."

“You do. You miss my hands on you,” he whispers. His large hands find your hips. He glides them upward and toward your tits. He cups them over your dress, squeezing them and then revelling in the small, tortured moan you let out. 

His lips brush against the shell of your ear, “You miss my lips on you.” 

Then, his hands slide down to your hips again, pulling your ass against the hard cock in the confinement of his slacks. “And you miss my cock inside of you, fucking you ‘til you’re babbling.”

You can feel yourself growing wet as he rubs against you, and you’re tempted to lean into his touch and give in. But then you think about how wrong this is. Yes, you’re harbouring feelings for your ex, but you’ve never acted on them and never planned to. And so, coming to your senses, you brush him off and turn to face him.

“Go home, Rafe. You…you have to go home.” 

You're barely able to maintain eye contact with him, and you're sure he'll either call your bluff or straight-up ignore your wishes.

“I’m not going anywhere."

Straight-up ignoring, it is.

“Stop it.”

“No,” he simply states. “You’re mine whether you like it or not, don’t you get that? You can’t walk away from this. From me.”

Rafe’s tongue darts out to moisten his lips as he stares down at you, awaiting your next move. He senses your uncertainty. He knows you need him just as much as he needs you, and he can see how hard you’re trying to fight it. 

He’s always loved your fiery persistence.

His gaze intensifies on yours, and before you can speak, his hand slips under the slit of your dress, cupping your wet core through your barely-there panties. The familiar feeling of his cool rings against you makes you shiver, just like old times.

“Look at that. Your pussy’s giving you away, baby. Even she knows you can’t resist me.” 

“Bite me,” you grit out, trying your best not to give him a reaction when his fingers tease your clit. 

“I will. Just remember you asked for it.” His head dips down, and he scrapes his teeth against your jawline, partially making good on his promise.

“You’re impossible. I can’t even look you in the eye right now.”

“Then turn the fuck around,” he says, both hands grabbing you before he spins you around to face the mirror. He hikes your dress up over your hips and tugs your panties to the side. You hear the clinking of his buckle as he undoes his belt, along with the unfastening of his zipper, and before you know it, his cock slams into you without warning. You inhale sharply at the sudden intrusion, and Rafe does nothing to hide the smug look on his face. 

Without allowing you to adjust, he starts to snap his hips against yours quickly and harshly, as if he’s punishing you for even daring to look in another man’s direction. 

“Rafe, fuck,” you whine, your sanity now long gone. Your mouth is wide open as you take his harsh thrusts. He uses this opportunity to fuck the idea into your brain: you will never be rid of him.

“Look how much you missed me. It’s written all over your face. Not to mention, all over my cock,” he grates, referring to the arousal you've coated him in. He goes harder, impaling you balls deep. “So fucking needy. Does he even fuck you right? Get you off? Or are you thinking of me when he tries?”

“Shut the fuck up and make me cum, Rafe.”

“I don’t think you’re in the position to make demands, sweetheart. Not when you’re about to marry a pathetic nobody that can’t make you scream like I can.”

You hate how his words still cut deep, mainly because he’s right. But you don’t want to give him the satisfaction, not when he’s already getting what he wants from you. 

You shut your eyes, trying to ignore him, but Rafe quickly shuts that down. He lands a harsh slap on your ass before gripping your throat. “Nuh-uh. You’re gonna watch me while I fuck you. You need to know that your pussy belongs to me. All your cum and all your orgasms belong to me. Not him. Not anyone else. Me.” 

You stare into his eyes in the mirror’s reflection after opening them back up, biting your lip as you try to keep yourself quiet. 

“There she is. There’s my girl,” he rasps. His hand leaves your throat, slithering down to your clit and rubbing rough circles into it. He feels your knees buckle when he does so, and he doesn’t miss the breathy moan that escapes your lips. “Fuck, I missed those sounds, princess.”

Rafe’s cock jams into a particularly deep spot inside of you, and before you can stop yourself, you yelp loudly. His jaw clenches, and the hand on your clit abandons it to cover your mouth and muffle your noises. 

“Make one more noise, and everyone in the goddamn party will know what a greedy fucking whore you are. One dick just isn’t enough to satisfy my girl, huh?” 

The secrecy and excitement blossoming from your current affair both send you into a spiral. You whimper against the palm of his hand, and you bite down on the skin to silence yourself. He’s reaching immaculate places and making you see stars, and you think that this must be what heaven feels like. You’re not quite sure what to make of the fact that Rafe is bringing paradise to you instead of your loving and faithful fiancé, but all you can focus on is how electrified you feel. 

“Play with your clit. Soak my fucking cock, baby.”

You do, flicking it relentlessly as Rafe fucks you over the edge. You cry into his hand, your breath shaky as your body jerks. The warmth spreads throughout your body, leaving a dewy glow on your skin. 

Rafe releases his hand from your mouth and returns it to your hip to get his own. He pulls you back into him repeatedly, his cock jamming into you and weakening your legs. 

“I’m going to cum right inside this pussy. Imagine if you were walking around on your wedding day with my baby in there. I think you’d fucking love that,” he grunts, getting himself worked up even further. Your walls flutter around him, thanks to his filthy mouth. He chuckles breathlessly, “That’s what I fucking thought.”

You reach behind you, grabbing his balls and massaging them in your hand. You feel his cock twitch inside you, followed by the heat of his cum shooting into your walls and painting them white. Rafe rides out his orgasm, and once he calms down, he pulls out of you. He moves your panties back into place and pulls your dress back down before tapping your butt with his index and middle finger.

“Now run back out there to your loser fiancé with my cum dripping down your thighs. Congratulations on the wedding.” 

updated rafe taglist (join here!): @pankowperfection @tinyluvs @oncasette @rafesmoon @hopesdadswife @taintedxkisses @maybankslover @goldenroutledge @penny4yourthoughts @bmo-bri @hemogloban @princessbetsy123-blog @slytherhoes @whoisdrewstarkey @dreamingwithrafe @vigilanteshitposting @twelfthmortalofcrimsonpalace @laineywilsons @sw34terw34ther @adoreyouusugar @rosie-cameron @f4ll-for-you @rafesdirtyslut @tell-me-when-ur-ready @bbycowboi @venomwh0re @cecesrings @cumbuckett @jjmaybankisbae @mvybanks

[brainddeadd]

Anyone But You

The last person you ever wanted to see again was Nico Hischier. Yet here he is, standing across the crowded wedding venue, looking better than any man has the right to in a tailored black suit. His dark eyes lock with yours from across the room, and that familiar smug grin spreads across his face.

Of course, it had to be him.

This whole destination wedding in St. Barts was supposed to be a fun escape—a chance to celebrate your best friend’s marriage and sip cocktails on the beach, not get trapped on an island with your former best friend turned bitter ex-flame. Fate, or maybe some cruel cosmic joke, decided otherwise.

It’s been two years since things exploded between you and Nico. Two years since you let feelings fester into something complicated and combustible. You walked away, he didn’t stop you, and neither of you looked back—until now.

At the reception’s cocktail hour, you try to melt into the crowd, but it’s impossible to ignore Nico’s presence. He’s everywhere—standing with the groomsmen, charming the bride’s family, and laughing in that way that used to drive you wild. You almost make it to the bar when a familiar voice stops you cold.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice smooth as ever.

You turn slowly, forcing a polite smile. “Nico.”

He leans casually against the bar, the same cocky tilt to his mouth you remember too well. “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

You arch an eyebrow. “You mean at my best friend’s wedding?”

Nico chuckles, and it’s infuriating how good he looks doing it. “Right. How could I forget?”

“Must be all the concussions,” you say sweetly, the corners of your lips twitching.

He lets out a low laugh, clearly enjoying this more than he should. “Still as sharp as ever.”

“Still as annoying as ever,” you shoot back, grabbing your drink and turning on your heel.

But as you walk away, you can feel his gaze following you, as if the past two years never happened and the pull between you never really went away.

Over the next few days, avoiding Nico proves impossible. The wedding itinerary is packed with group activities that throw the two of you together at every turn—beach volleyball games, rehearsal dinners, sunset cruises. It’s like the universe is forcing you to confront whatever unresolved tension lingers between you.

And the tension? Oh, it’s thick.

“Still can’t serve to save your life,” Nico teases during a volleyball match, his grin too charming for his own good.

You scowl, brushing sand from your legs. “Still can’t shut up, I see.”

He laughs, low and familiar, and for a moment, you forget why you hated him in the first place.

But then the memories rush back—how everything fell apart between you, the things you left unsaid, the way he never fought for you when you walked away. And just like that, the irritation returns in full force.

The tension between you and Nico finally reaches its breaking point when a tropical storm traps everyone indoors. Somehow, you end up stuck in a tiny beachside cabana with him while the rain pours down in sheets outside.

“This is ridiculous,” you mutter, pacing the small space. “Of all people to get stuck with…”

Nico lounges on the couch, unbothered, watching you with that infuriatingly calm expression. “You act like being stuck with me is the worst thing in the world.”

“It is,” you snap.

He smirks, clearly enjoying your frustration. “You didn’t seem to mind me so much before.”

You whirl on him, heart pounding. “That was a long time ago, Nico.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” he murmurs, his voice softer now.

The air between you shifts, the weight of everything left unsaid pressing down on you both. The storm outside feels like a reflection of everything churning inside you—anger, regret, and that damnable attraction that never quite went away.

Before you can think better of it, the words tumble out. “Why didn’t you stop me?”

Nico sits up, his expression serious now. “You walked away, Y/N. What was I supposed to do? Chase after someone who didn’t want me?”

“I did want you,” you whisper, the truth spilling out before you can stop it.

He’s on his feet in an instant, closing the distance between you. “Then why did you leave?”

Your breath catches as his gaze drops to your lips. “Because I was scared. Scared that what we had was too real. Scared that you’d break my heart.”

Nico’s hand cups your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheek. “You broke mine first.”

And then, suddenly, he’s kissing you.

It’s not gentle—it’s messy and desperate, years of frustration and longing pouring into the kiss. You kiss him back just as fiercely, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. It’s a kiss that feels like an apology, a confession, and a second chance all wrapped into one.

The storm passes, but nothing between you and Nico feels the same. What started as playful banter and unresolved tension has shifted into something deeper, something neither of you are ready to admit aloud.

Over the next few days, things get complicated. You catch yourself watching him when he isn’t looking, noticing the way his smile softens when he talks to you. And worse, you start wanting more—more time, more moments, more of him.

One night, beneath the glow of fairy lights at the reception, Nico pulls you into a slow dance. His hand rests on the small of your back, warm and steady, as you sway to the music.

“This feels dangerous,” you whisper, your heart pounding in your chest.

Nico smiles, his forehead resting against yours. “What’s life without a little danger?”

You laugh softly, leaning into him, and for the first time in a long time, everything feels right.

The wedding weekend comes to an end, but you and Nico aren’t ready to say goodbye—not yet.

As you stand together on the beach, watching the waves roll in, he takes your hand. “So… what now?”

You smile, squeezing his fingers. “Now, we stop pretending we don’t care about each other.”

Nico grins, that familiar mischievous spark in his eyes. “Good. Because I don’t think I could let you walk away again.”

And this time, you don’t plan to.

[the-californicationist]

Guile & Guilt (Ch. 10 --- Ending)

THURSDAY — 10:24PM: 18 hours until the wedding

As Johnny popped open the door to the distillery’s main hall, his grip on your hand tightened. It felt as if he was holding onto you in a strong current, working as hard as he could to keep you from slipping away. Yet, wave after wave of anxiety and fear crashed between you, trying its best to pull you apart. He was having none of it, and as you wilted, seeing everyone’s faces staring at you in the hall, he strengthened, all but carrying you along with him, ready to face whatever music was behind that black, wooden portal. 

He walked in front of you, shielding you from whatever terror waited for you just around the corner of the short corridor. Then, as he rounded it, confronting the crowd, you heard a raucous, jeering applause. The guests at the rehearsal dinner were whooping and clapping, carrying on about the most important (and embarrassing) moment of your life, smiling and laughing at you and your protector. 

But, you didn’t care about the crowd. You were scanning it for Pidge. Your eyes moved along the wall of faces, frantically searching for her. Then, pushing between Price and Gaz, there she was, coming towards you with Hamish not far behind. 

The rest of the guests turned back to their business, still sharing laughs and comments to each other about your impromptu display of affection, but no one followed Pidge into the hallway to spy on you further. 

When she saw your face, hers changed. It had been blank, emotionless, and cold. But, now, it was something as far from that as could be. You watched bright, fat tears fill the bottom lashes in her eyes, and her hand went to cover the grimace on her mouth. 

Johnny shoved you behind him, blocking you from his sister’s supposed wrath, but you spoke around him,

“I’m so sorry, Pidge. I…” you sniffled as you looked up at her, fighting back your own sobs and trying to speak, “I tried so hard to stay away. Please, believe me.”

“Aye,” Johnny interrupted, straightening himself up pridefully, “She did, Pigeon. It was my fault.”

Pidge’s face twisted into an angry snarl, and she spun around as if to walk away, then she turned back to him. You thought she might slap him right across his mouth, and you weren’t positive, but you thought you could feel Johnny tensing up in front of you, bracing for it as he protected you. 

Her face was displaying every emotion. It was pure chaos, and your heart ached to know that you had been the catalyst for it. But, as soon as she realized what she wanted to feel, she committed to reaching out for him, and she wrapped him in her arms, crying into his chest. He held her, letting her tears soak into his shirt. 

“I kent so, you wee fuckin’ weapon,” she told him, her voice ragged and muffled by his body. You could barely understand her, “I spent all these years kennin’ she was the one who’d change your daft mind. I kent you’d love her, Johnny-boy, but I didnae want you to.”

His voice was strained as he asked her,

“Why, Pidge? Didnae you want me to be happy?”

“I wanted you to be yourself. The old you. The one who wanted to be home with us, with your family. You let me think you hated to be with me! You would leave and then, you’d go off with…” Her eyes darted to you as if to apologize for what she was about to say, “Whatever hen was the bloody closest. I didnae ken what to think.”

It took Johnny a moment to answer her. You were standing off to the side now, and he looked straight at you as he spoke, as if he was using you for fortification,

“I wasnae well, Brigette. It’s been right hard on me sometimes. I’d come back, and I’d get angry, just like da used to. I remember holding you at night when he’d get in that way, and you tried to hide your keenin’ but I heard you… and I didnae want that man back in your bloody house. So, I’d crash on couches ‘til I could come ‘round.”

Johnny sighed, listening to Pidge’s cries subside as she heard his words, and he went on,

“It was easier to spend a night here or a night there, enough time to be able to excuse away the bad dreams and the anger, but not enough to overstay my welcome. But, I missed out on a lot of time with you, and I ken I’ll never get it back. I dinnae want to miss any more of it.”

“Why the lassies, then? If all you needed was a safe space to be, you could’ve —”

Johnny smiled, shrugging,

“Any time of night, they’d always say yes. Even if I just crashed on the sofa. I may or may not’ve enjoyed the reputation a wee bit more than I should’ve done.”

Johnny’s soft grin turned on you, and he brought your hand up to his mouth to kiss your knuckles as if to apologize to you. 

“And he didn’t sleep with Cherise,” you interjected. 

Pidge looked at you and then back to her brother as if waiting for him to confirm. He shrugged, dragging a tired hand down his face. Johnny laughed,

“Just a wee bit o’ flirtin’, to be honest.”

She smacked him on his chest, hard. He winced and laughed some more. 

“Why didnae you tell me?” Her question was directed at both of you, and you could tell she expected a truthful answer. So, you plucked up the courage and told her, 

“I couldn’t lose you, Pidge. You’re the only real family I have, and I couldn’t bear it if you hated me for breaking your rules about dating your brother.”

You waited for her response, and it seemed like she was trying to find the words. She dug deep within herself to choose them, and every moment that went by, you prayed that they would at least be kind, that you would at least have a chance. 

While she was locked in thought, Johnny’s hand gripped yours, sealing your palms together, and pulled you into him, clutching you to his side in the cramped quarters of the hallway. Both of you were staring at his sister, two prisoners awaiting judgment. 

Hamish stood beside her, his arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him and let out a ragged breath, grabbing your free hand in hers,

“I didnae want you to end up like our ma. When she got sick…”

You squeezed her hand to help her hold back her tears,

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Pidge.”

“When she got sick, he wasnae there. He didnae watch her layin’ there in pain. While he was bleedin’ to death in bloody Sarajevo, she was on her second round of the chemo. And I never forgave him. Still havnae forgave him. And so, when Johnny-boy comes to me and tells me he’s joined the SAS? I just… in my mind, he just took da’s place. I know tha’s not fair. He’s his own man. 

But, then I watched you takin’ care of me after all tha’ mess. You were there for me, babe. And I couldnae bear it if he let you down in the way that da did our mam,” she laughed then, wiping old tears away, “And I tried so hard to keep him away. I’d cancel plans with you when he was home. I knew you were his. You were everything that my old Johnny loved. 

I thought he’d changed. I thought he’d lost himself to the desert. I thought he’d leave you, and then I’d lose you. And I couldnae lose you.”

“I’m so sorry, Pidge,” you told her. 

She pulled you away from Johnny and wrapped you in a long hug, 

“I’m sorry, too.”

“She is,” Johnny said, rubbing your back as Pidge hugged you. 

She pulled away to look up at him, waiting for him to elaborate. He cupped your chin in his huge hands, warming your neck with his soft grip. He stared into your eyes, looking at you as if there was nothing else to see, 

“She is everything that I love. She’s everything, Pidge.”

SATURDAY — 4:15AM: 1 hour after the wedding  

You could barely get your keys into the lock, as weak as he was making you with his kisses on your neck. Johnny had groped you in the car, he’d kissed you until you’d moaned in the elevator, and he’d all but chased you down the hallway, laughing and grinning like a fiend. 

“Johnny!” You gasped. 

“Hurry, lass. I cannae wait much longer,” he nuzzled your jaw.

You giggled again, pushing the door open and tumbling through it. He shut and locked it behind him, tossing your bag and jacket on the futon. Marlowe made herself scarce, still not used to seeing him in your house. 

He pushed you into the kitchen, kissing you up against the countertop, holding your face in his hands. 

“Are you my woman, thief? Tell me.”

“I am, Johnny. All yours. I’ll show you.”

You knelt on your kitchen floor, the glitter of your dress crinkling on the concrete. You smiled up at him, enjoying the concerned look on his face, and lifted the hem of his great kilt, tossing it over your head. He tried to stop you at first, 

"No, thief... you dinnae need to… oh, fuck.” 

You found his cock with your lips, kissing his shaft. He was twitching, already hardening, swelling against your mouth, fully uncovered beneath his sporran. The large fur pouch tapped you against the back of your head as you kissed him, but you didn’t care. You set your tongue on him like you were starving, licking him from base to tip, using your hands to massage his length and his balls. Your efforts seemed to change his mind because, now, he was begging you in a deep voice, 

“Don't... don't stop… please, mèirleach. God, your mouth…" 

Johnny was coming apart above you in a literal sense. You felt the sporran fall away from your head and watched it fall to the ground next to his feet with a loud clunk. The soft wool of his great kilt swished against the small of your back, bare as it was in your gown. It tickled you on his behalf, petting you as you bobbed your head, trying desperately to swallow his challenging length. 

He was tugging off his shirt now, and you watched the white cotton tail disappear up and out of his waistband as he yanked it from the belt. You lifted one of your hands and pushed it through the bottom of the pleated fabric, popping out of his belt, rubbing his abs from below as you sucked him. 

Johnny grabbed your exploring fingers in his, gripping you tight, panting in heavy gasps above you,

“Fuckin’ hell, thief. I’m gonna come like this.”

Then, through the fabric of the tartan, you felt his hand on the back of your head, cradling you, shaking like a leaf. You took a deep breath and tried to fit him in your throat. He gagged you, too thick for your throat to handle him, but you fought through it, relaxing into him, trying your best to shock him, to make him crest over his waves of pleasure. 

Johnny’s hand became heavy against your skull, and you knew you had him. You swallowed into his salty head, over and over, coaxing him to come, licking and sucking him like you were trying to get to his warm, melting core. 

“Please, mèirleach! I’m gonna… I cannae… please, please, please…”

He was crying out above you, shamelessly thrusting himself into your throat, unable to keep himself under control. You were drooling from your lips, and you felt it coating your chin. You let it happen, unwilling to be embarrassed, protected by the darkness of his kilt. You held onto his hand above his belt, and you let your other rub beneath his balls, teasing that forbidden space in between. 

As soon as you did, he let out a dark whine, ending it in a sharp shout, releasing his load into your mouth. You tasted him, felt his salty cream slide into your belly, sucking him clean as he finished. 

The cool air of the room hit your wet mouth and neck as he pulled his kilt over you, staring down at you with a ferocious, hungry look, mixed with the warmth of his pleasure and a bit of curious disbelief. He moved his hand back to your head, holding you in place by your hair, gentle enough but sure. Then, he gathered his tartan up in his other hand and used it to wipe your mouth for you, praising you as he did.

“Mo mèirleach, so good for me. So fuckin’ good.”

You stared up at him, admiring his body. The cape of his great kilt had fallen from his shoulder, and his shirt was gone, leaving him bare. All of his muscles were straining with his ragged breathing, working hard to hold him together, dancing under his flushed skin. You rose, kissing his hairy belly, licking over his navel, finding a nipple to suckle against, nipping at it with your teeth as gently as you could, watching him writhe. 

He was studying you now, as if he was seeing you for the first time, and he slipped one of his fingers beneath the strap of your dress, pulling it down your shoulder. It hung there, limply, and all that was left was its twin. He found that one next and tugged it down, watching as the dress cascaded away, revealing the nothing you’d worn underneath. 

Johnny shuddered, gasping in a short breath, staring at your body in the low light. His eyes burned into yours, and he commanded you in a new tone, one you’d not heard before,

“Get to the bed, lass. Now.”

He watched you back up the few steps that it took to reach your mattress, swaying your hips as you did, running your hands over your breasts, teasing yourself and him at the same time. 

Johnny was undressing as he followed you, lifting his shins to untie his ghillie brogues, ripping down the socks and letting his flashings fall out of them. Finally, he pulled out his sharp dagger, the sgian dubh, and let it fall to the counter with a loud bang. Lastly, he popped the boar-shaped buckle of his belt and the heavy kilt fell away, revealing his naked form to you. 

He looked like he weighed as much as a bull. His body was immense, and his hands covered too much of you when he wrapped them around your waist. He could reach, pinky to thumb, across the span of your belly, and he warmed you with his palms, molding you to him like smooth clay. 

Johnny lifted you, taking you by surprise, tossing you onto the bed so you landed on your back. You giggled, and then he shushed you, looming over you, kissing you, tasting himself there, sucking at your tongue and lips hungrily. His hands were kneading your breasts, plucking at your nipples and encouraging them to stiffen beneath his touch. Your giggles turned into soft whimpers, and you felt your pussy throbbing for him, soaking itself, eager for its missing piece.  

Between his kisses, he was whispering to you, chanting his mantra, the same one he’d said before, 

“You’re mine, mèirleach. You’re my woman. Say it.”

“I’m yours, mo chridhe…” You whined, feeling his thick fingers find your clit and discovering how wet you were. 

“Mine, mine, mine,” Johnny growled, sucking the delicate skin along your neck and collarbone, kissing you over and over, leaving a trail of them leading down to a strong latch on your nipple. He was using one of his fingers to press into your wetness, and when he felt the fire within you, he sighed involuntarily, shaking a bit from the sensation. 

“You’re soaked… Oh, fuck. You feel so warm.”

“Don’t stop, Johnny, please…” You cried to him, feeling your whole body tense, ready to come. 

He sat back on his heels, keeping your legs wrapped around his hips, using both hands to play you like a fiddle. And he made you sing for him, twisting his hand and curling his fingertips, stroking you in long, deep movements, pressing down into your hole to give you the sense of girth you’d soon be feeling for real. 

“Are you ready for my cock, mèirleach? Hard again for you already,” he pulled himself up and let his heavy rod rest on top of your clit, sliding himself back and forth through your wet folds. 

“Please… Fuck me, baby, please…” 

“Shh, shh, shh. I’ve got you, thief. I’ve got you. Give me those eyes. There… there you are. Oh, perfect girl. So damn perfect for me. This pussy was made for me; I’m sure of it. Do you ken how I’m sure?”

You didn’t say anything. You just stared at his body as he thrust his cock against your pussy lips, passing through them, making his cockhead glisten with your come. Then, he angled it down into you, and he let his head tease your hole, rubbing it in small circles, letting you feel every bit of his skin as it invaded your body. 

“Here’s how I ken…” He smiled down at you and thrust himself into you as slowly as he could. 

Inch after staggering inch was fed into your heat, stoking the furnace within your belly, warming him up from the inside out. He was holding his breath the entire way in, his face locked in a tight, furious agony. Then, when you felt his base stretch you further, he smiled, tossing his head back in bright, easy joy. 

Johnny looked back down at where you were joined and placed his hand on your belly, feeling himself inside of you, petting your soft skin. His eyes darted up to yours, watching you suffer from the pleasure he’d made,

“Perfect fit, mo mèirleach. Every bit of you. Your lips, your cheeks, your breasts… the way you read your poems to me. The way you love me. You’re everything to me, lass. I love you.”

You felt like you were having an out of body experience. You couldn’t stop your walls from pushing and pulling against his heavy rod, as hard as iron and smooth like velvet. He’d filled you tight, like a cork in champagne, and you were very nearly ready to burst, not yet recovered from your previous orgasm. 

“I love you, too, Johnny,” you begged him with your hips, grinding into him like you were riding him.

He played with your clit again, rubbing his thumb up and down its swollen length, feeling your lips as they stretched around him, making you cry out in all sorts of noises. Then, you watched as a burning mischief lit up his eyes, and that commander’s voice was back, 

“Spread your legs for me. Wide, just like that. Spread ‘em apart, lass. Let me see you. I wanna see that pink hole as it takes me like that. So fuckin’ good. Didnae ken it could be so bonnie…” 

Johnny started to thrust himself into you, good on his word, watching as he disappeared into your body. His head was rubbing against your most sensitive spot on the way out and tormenting your deepest parts on the way in. You were so full, you felt like you could burst. He tucked his hands into the crook of your knees and spread you just that much wider, making all of your nerves light up as he stretched your skin. 

“Johnny! Fuck…” You were fluttering around him, clenching against his dick, trying to control your body and failing. 

His voice was deep, and it resonated in the hollow of your chest, 

“Come on, thief. Come for me. Come. Come… fuck. That feels so good, bonnie girl.” 

The pale, fading moonlight morphed and changed as your orgasm flooded your mind. He was still talking at you, chanting sweet and savory nothings, praising you for nothing and everything, 

“I can feel your heart, mèirleach. It’s beatin’ against me.”

“Johnny…” You gasped, coming down from your high only to feel him slamming himself into you like a relentless piston. 

“Takin’ me so well, mo ghràdh. Perfect for me. Takin’ this cock like it was made for you.”

“Please, baby… I need you, mo chridhe. I need…” You weren’t sure what you need, but you prayed to him like a god, and you hoped he would know.

He fell over you, closing you into him, fitting you right to his chest, never breaking his incredible rhythm. He was kissing your mouth, letting the softest whimpers out of his throat as he did, whining for you. 

“Is that it, thief? Is that what you need? Is that… fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…”

Each curse was a cry, and his voice was in pieces from it, broken and pleading. He was begging you, and every time he fucked his length into your belly, he would grunt like a beast, overcome with want. 

You returned with your own mantra, finding his ear with your lips and whispering a thousand yeses into it, locking your heels around his thick waist, feeling his muscles working hard for you against your inner thighs. 

“Tell me… tell me to come, mo ghràdh. Tell me when you…”

He was suffering inside of you, and you felt his whole body trembling with desire, ready to fill you at your command. 

You ran your hands through his mohawk, holding it at the base of his skull, and you whispered, releasing him,

“Come in me, baby. Come in me. Come in… oh, my God! Come…”

You held him close to you as he spent himself deep within your belly, filling you for the second time, screaming for you. Johnny clutched at you like you were a lifeline, holding you tight to him, even as he slowed, teasing his head inside of you, slipping through his own come as it mixed with yours. As he finally slid out of you, he was kissing you again, his lips loose and swollen, his tongue tasting you gently. 

“I love you,” you whispered between kisses. 

He looked like you had just sunk your knife between his ribs, aiming right for his heart, and all the air left his lungs, no longer needed. Johnny died and was reborn in your arms within half-seconds, little moments that only you could see. His smile was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen as he answered you, 

“I love you, thief.”

He left you for a moment to reach below the bed. Johnny came back up with his kilt in his hand, and he wrapped you in it, swirling his long tartan around your body, folding you in MacTavish dress blue. He pulled you into his lap as he leaned against your headboard, panting and trying to come back to reality. 

You played with his tags around your neck, basking in the warmth of his woolen cloak, letting your head rest against his neck, and your mind started to imagine how your name might look with MacTavish behind it. 

JULY

Johnny held your hand as the plane touched down, waking you up slowly. There was a soft ding and the captain’s voice came on overhead,

“Welcome to Iceland. If you want to adjust your watch, it is 1705. The weather in Keflavík is a bit overcast, and the temperature is 20 degrees Celsius. We wish you a pleasant stay, and we hope to see you again very soon. On behalf of all our crew, thank you for choosing British Airways as your airline today.”

Pidge leaned over you to talk to her brother, tightening her grip on Hamish’s hand as he sat to her right,

“I swear to Jesus and Mary, I thought I was gonna die! Did you book these tickets, Johnny-boy? I’m feelin’ faint.”

“It’s okay, darling,” Hamish soothed her, “We made it. It’s over.”

“Holy shite. I’m shakin’ like a wee leaf!” She gasped, fanning herself.

You made it out of the airport with only a little drama, and by the time you pulled into the hotel, you were starving. Johnny tipped the cabbie and guided you inside, wrapping his arm around you tightly. 

“So, thief,” he suggested, “Did you wanna grab a bite in the hot spring? They’ve got the swim-up bar.”

“Eager to see me in that bathing suit you bought for me, hm?” You answered knowingly. 

He blushed, grinning sinfully, 

“Aye…”

“As long as I get to eat, I’ll wear whatever you want, mo chridhe.”

He whistled low and even, shaking his head, 

“Dinnae make promises you cannae keep, woman.”

“Hey! MacTavish!”

A voice was shouting at you from across the lobby. Toting bags and already dressed in their summer gear, Price, Gaz, and Ghost headed over toward you.

“Hey! There you are,” Johnny greeted them, and there were warm hugs all around. 

“Well, c’mon,” Price grabbed you by the arm, “Lemme see it.”

You smiled at him, holding up your left hand, letting him get a long look at the huge amethyst that sat as the flower on the end of a circular, golden thistle-shaped ring. 

“Gorgeous,” Price smiled, shaking Johnny’s hand again, “We can’t wait for the wedding. If it’s anything like the last one, I know it’ll be a good time.”

You laughed with him, feeling Johnny’s soft lips in your hair as he leaned down to kiss you. He smiled at you, speaking to his captain, 

“Aye, I cannae hardly wait.”

Thank you so much to everyone who read, liked, commented, and reblogged this story! I truly hope you enjoyed it. If you did, you might consider checking out my Price/Reader 100k story, "Gunslinger", available on AO3.

If you need more Soap, be on the lookout for Chapter 2 of PornStar!Johnny, which is threatening to turn itself into a full fic if I don't watch out.

Thanks so much to my betas and to all my mutuals for your support and ideas!! I love hearing from y'all, so message me anytime.

UPDATE: Epilogue (Ch. 11)

[f1daydreamers]

𝐀 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨 [𝐋𝐒𝟏𝟖] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

photo credits: Pinterest

Pairing: Lance Stroll x Fem!Reader

Summary: Asking the driver of the team you work for to attend a wedding with you as your fake date is possibly one of the dumbest ideas you’ve had ever.. but also one of the best.

Warnings: fluff, friends to lovers, one bed trope oop

A/N: Thank you all so much for the love on the first chapter, you guys are incredible :') Here's Part 1 if you haven't read it yet or want a recap!

Word Count: 2.1k (8 minutes reading time avg)

…

"Your Dad, your sister, your brother, they're great." You didn't add anything on to Lance's sentence, heading out of the venue your brother had extravangantly booked for a rehearsal dinner.

Being a lawyer marrying a real estate agent must have its perks.

"Your mum is.. certainly a character." You scoffed, knowing he probably had no intention of clearing up what he meant, assuming you'd understand what he was trying to say.

The sun had barely begun setting, the weather was cooler, and your home wasn't that much of a walk so somewhere between the few minutes it took for you both to leave the venue and reach the corner of the street, you decided walking would be the best option.

Lance just inattentively followed you, knowing you were his only navigation system.

He took a few brisk steps to catch up with your pace, the only comfort offered to you that you'd accept after a long day would be under the covers of your bed.

"In a rush?" You exhaled through your mouth, watching the puff of air escape from your lips.

"No, just want this day to end." You felt bitter about how your mother was acting, ignoring Lance then shooting you looks as if you were in the wrong was so typical of her.

Yet you were still surprised she'd go that low on such a celebratory occasion.

"You're.. chipper." The corner of your mouth twitched upwards and you mumbled a barely coherent word of confusion.

Lance laughed at your expression, "I heard one of your uncles say it, I like it."

You breathily laughed, shaking your head. "Trust me, no one says that anymore. My uncle uses slang he thinks would make him fit in. It doesn't."

He shrugs, stretching his arms outwards and only satisfied when he hears an expected 'pop' sound. "I think he's pretty cool."

Your lips curve into a smile, turning your head towards Lance who has a similar grin on his lips. "You should tell him that, he'll blush bright red."

You undo the latch to the front gate, pulling it wide open so the F1 driver can slide through, then you shut it behind him.

"Do you have a key?" Lance asks you, hopping up the final step of the patio. He extended your purse out to you in case it was in there but before you could answer his question, you paused.

"Why do you have my purse?" Trying to recall if you handed it to him but nothing sprung to mind.

"You left it on the table, I recognised it from this." He fiddled with the Aston Martin keyring Sebastian left the entire team as a parting gift in Abu Dhabi last year.

He brought it to your line of sight, proudly smiling.

You smiled back at him, "sharp eye Stroll."

"Thank you darling." That same look of confusion arose on your face again.

You looked away, your face warming slightly as you kicked the corner of the doormat to reveal a familiar key beneath it.

"Another one of my Uncle's terms of endearment?" He chuckled from behind you, the keyring making a faint clank sound as it hit the chain of your crossbody bag.

"Afraid so." You shook your head for the second time in this conversation, bending over to grasp the key between the pads of your index finger and thumb.

Slotting it into the hole, you pushed the door open and similarly to before, Lance easily maneuvered inside and past you.

He toed off his sneakers and picked them up with his two fingers hooked into the back.

You pulled open the drawer to the shoe rack, and he pushed them inside one of the empty spaces. You followed in his movements.

"Hungry? Thirsty?" He accompanied you to the kitchen. You flicked on the light switch and he went over to the kitchen island, leaning his elbows on the cold marble counter.

"Nah, I ate my weight in almonds already." He grinned, watching you pull out a jug from the fridge.

"Sucks having a rehearsal dinner with no dinner." You commented.

You poured yourself a glass of some freshly-squeezed apple juice. Your mum was always hellbent on having fresh everything when you were growing up, guess that habit still hadn't faded over time.

After a brief moment of chatter, you slung your bag around your neck, both you and Lance ascending the stairs to your bedroom.

As you pushed the door open and your hand searched for the light switch on the wall, you came to a sudden halt when the room was eventually illuminated.

Your heart sank to your stomach as you stared at the double bed in the center of your room.

He shut the door, wondering why you'd stopped moving all of a sudden before the realisation dawned on him and his words faltered halfway in his throat.

You glanced at him as his shoulder ghosted yours to stand besides you, his gaze met yours and both of you had a very similar look on your faces: the one that said 'this wasn't part of the deal'.

"Do you want me to open a window? It's a bit stuffy in here." He nonchalantly questioned.

You refrained from telling him that it wasn't stuffy because of the humidity, it was stuffy because there was an obvious elephant in the room that needed to be addressed.

You don't answer him, your mind in somewhat of a haze as you're trying to comprehend when the fuck two twin beds that you remember moving out from suddenly turned into one double bed.

"I'll open a window." Lance states, passing the inanimate bane of your existence to crack open one of the windows.

The idea of sharing a bed brought on a sudden discomfort, and without obvious reason. You'd shared beds with so many people before; friends, cousins, on sleepovers, girls' nights.

You dismiss the memories of physical contact earlier: Lance's hand resting on your thigh, fingers intertwined, and his touch on your back.

Consequently, you also disregarded the subsequent surge of butterflies in your stomach.

Those butterflies could have been easily set aside as mere surprise, and you also had no intention of experiencing them again. It took a considerable effort to convince the F1 driver to accompany you as your pretend date for a four-day weekend, so the thought of him ever entertaining any connection with you seemed entirely implausible.

Plus, you don't even like him like that.

Lance noticed you deeply lost in thought, biting the inside of his cheek.

"I can take the floor." Your eyes snap up to him stood on the other side of the room, leaned against the window pane.

Your eyes then flicker to the wooden flooring beneath your feet, shuddering while imagining how wildly uncomfortable that would be for a whole night, nevermind three nights.

"It's cold, and hard."

He shrugged, not caring much for his own discomfort. He reached over to grab his gym bag besides your suitcase, your parents had brought them in from your car this morning.

He unzipped the front pocket, fishing out his toothbrush.

"I dragged you out here so the least I can do is give you a bed to sleep in. I'll take the floor."

Lance hummed in disagreement, giving you a firm look. "Nope, not happening."

He pulled off his hoodie and dropped it on top of his gym bag, heading straight for the bathroom, already knowing where it was having had it shown to him before by your sister.

You took the time to change into your pajamas, digging through your open suitcase for your toiletry bag and simultaneously waiting for him to finish up in the bathroom.

After he had, he entered your bedroom once more and you found yourself staring at his bare arms, flexing with every little movement as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

The image of his muscles burned into your mind as you swiftly exited the room and set foot into the bathroom, locking it. You exhaled a shaky breath, taking out your toothbrush from your bag of skincare.

As you brushed your teeth then veered off into your skincare routine that followed, you only prayed that this weekend would go by quickly and smoothly. Something you'd been praying for since your brother had announced the dates of the ceremony.

After you finished up, you turned the light switch off and with a hesitant movement in your feet, you pushed open the bedroom door that hadn't been closed the entire way. Yet.

You saw Lance preparing to lie on the floor and told him to wait, hoping that if your parents hadn't been clearing out the remnants of your wardrobe as they had been with your bed, you'd find..

"Yes!" You exclaimed, tugging out the air mattress, keeping a hand on the tower of clothes you never took with you. Lance helped before laughing, you met his eyes as you lay the deflated cloud on your floor.

"Why do you have an air mattress in your room?" You blushed, "because of my sleepovers. I bought it spontaneously and look, now there's a purpose for it."

"Pump?" You whisked around again, now on your tiptoes as you tried to feel around the top of your wardrobe for a familiar cardboard box but ultimately failing because of your height, or lack thereof.

"Let me," Lance interrupted, extending his arm easily to the top. You looked down to the floor so your gaze wouldn't fixate on his bare bicep twice this evening, and eventually he lowered the box so it was within your grasp.

After pumping up the mattress, pulling on a fitted sheet and throwing him two of your pillows, you also threw him your thicker duvet.

Before he could complain, you stopped him. "I took the bed, you take the duvet. I've got a blanket." He gave in, sorting it out on his bed for the night, laying on his back after what felt like days.

You slipped into your blanket, resting your head on your pillow.

"Y/N?" You hum in return to his call of your name, turning your head to see him staring at the ceiling.

"The light's still on." You chuckled but before you could swing your legs over to the side, Lance was already up and going over to the far wall.

"Thanks." You add. He cautiously steps in darkness back over, careful as to not hit anything or hurt himself.

...

You wake up to find sunlight peaking through your windows, the cause of your slumber coming to its eventual end. But the man who fell asleep beneath the window isn't there, the blanket half falling off of the air mattress, the pillows tilted slightly.

Your eyebrows furrow when your eyes adjust to your room, but you also manage to half-remember that the blanket you were seeing on Lance's mattress was the one you'd fell asleep with a mere 8 hours ago.

The duvet you'd thrown at him now covering everything below your hips. You realised he must've swapped them at some point during the night when you were sound asleep.

After a few minutes, you sat up on your bed and left to brush your teeth, retying your hair into a low bun and splashing cold water over your face.

You skipped down the stairs, walking into the kitchen where most of the voices you were hearing were coming from, Lance's distinguishable accent being one of them.

"Morning sleepy," you smiled at him as he turned away from you and to the coffee machine, looking around to see only your sister and one of your cousins who'd stayed the night meeting your tired gaze.

"Where's mum 'n dad?" Daisy shrugged, "out."

She turned her attention back to your cousin so you headed for Lance, who, with a freshly brewed cup of coffee in his hand, swung around to see you.

You groaned happily at the sight of it, excitedly taking it into your hands. Coffee cheered you up. Lance chuckled, noticing the genuine twinkle in your eyes when he extended the mug out to you.

"Thank you." He nodded, and after a short moment's of silence, you looked at him.

"Did you.. swap the duvet 'round?" You questioned quietly, making sure the others in the kitchen couldn't overhear.

He smiled, taking a swig of his coffee before answering.

"You were shivering." He didn't add on anything else and from the gesture alone, that damned flurry of butterlifes erupted out of their cages again in your stomach.

"Well, I appreciate it. I guess my body did too." You joked, Lance nudging your arm with his elbow, a grin on his lips.

...

Part 3

Masterlist

Comment if you want to be tagged in the next part!

Taglist: @tororossoseb-blog @hiphopdancer101universe @hc-dutch @love4lando @chonkybonky @angstyeighteen @natasharomanoffisbaebby @little-angel-07 @voidskywxlker @flowerchild-96 @vildetry06 @sharllec @aundercover @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @spicyclover @mloyer @alesainz @e-lisa-bettan @hockey-racing-fubol @cinnamonroll2003

[strrvnge]

The 1

Part 3

Am I posting again after a year on a random sunday? Oh yes.I suggest listening to I hate it here by taylor swift, cynical one by tv girl, tomorrow never came by ldr.

Summery; After months of not talking after he conforted you in your party Stephen receives an invitation for your pre-wedding party.

Your fingers smoothly trail down the slippery yet soft and lustrous fabric of your white dress. Silk is known for its elegance, a symbol of femininity and luxury. You find it cold to touch, you hate how it fits your body and how self conscious it makes you feel.

‘’Darling!” You look up quickly as your soon to be mother in law approaches you.

‘’This is not the dress we picked’’ she says surprised looking you up and down

‘’Yes after you left the store I picked something myself’’ You follow her scrutinising gaze looking down at yourself, desperate to please her eclectic style.

‘’Darling’’ she tries to sound sweet but you can pick up on her patronising tone. She tilts her head and looks at you like she was dealing with a child that mismatches their clothes. ‘’Why do you do this to yourself? White makes you look…pale darling. Like a dead person. Didn’t we agree on eggshell?’’ she says touching the fabric with a disgusted grimace.

‘’I didn’t like eggshell’’ you explain trying to ignore how she is now shamelessly touching your stomach

‘’The fabric also looks cheap, nothing like the one we picked together. Did you forget we have to impress that executive? James really counts on us to make a great impression. Are you really feeling your best self in this?’’

It wasn’t a question so you don’t bother to answer. It was also true, you don’t feel your best self.

‘’You also put on a little weight, didn't you, darling? Let me take this out of your hands. A moment on the lips…’’ she shakes her head clearly disappointed in you. She takes the small pie from your hand and passes it to some waiter she barely bothers to look in the eyes.

‘’Mom aunt Mary is here’’ James comes and wraps his arm around your waist but to you it feels more like a lifesaver.

‘’Oh I should go greet her before she finds the bar’’ she chuckles and puts on her fake smile as she leaves.

‘’Did you see that? She literally took the food right off my hands’’ you turn to James but he is looking at his phone refreshing his emails.

‘’Well she does this for you. So you’ll look good in the wedding pictures that will last for a lifetimeyou will look back on for a lifetime’’ he says giving a last glance at his phone’s screen before looking up at you with a grin ‘’ Anyway you can always be thinner, look better’’

‘’James just because you work in finance doesn’t mean you have to quote Patrick Bateman on a daily basis’’

‘’This is a wedding cheer up . Now give me a smile’’ you look at him confused but also disgusted. You force yourself to smile but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

‘’There you go! Oh I need champagne. Do you want some?’’

You nod your head and before he goes to leave he look at you

‘’That’s not the dress mommy picked right? She’d never pick this type of dress’’ “Mommy picked that dress? Wow people change with age he looks again at the dress almost disappointed before brushing it off and leaving.

You sigh and try to compose yourself and stop that feeling of throwing up. You look around you a haze of familiar strangers and then your gaze is instantly drawn to the door. You’d give the world for an escape but before your melancholia could kick in you spot himdhdjdjjs.

Your eyes meet and you feel as if you’re seeing a ghost from the past. He walks to you

“Stephen. What are you doing here?” your tone is demanding and million different ideas as to why he us here run in your head. You panic scared he’ll destroy everything.

‘’Hi” he can sense your panic and “I was surprised you even invited me. I guessed you invited me to the wedding out of politeness but the rehearsal dinner? I don’t even see your mother in here’’

‘’I didn’t invite you’’ you say bluntly despite how rude it sounds. He looks at you puzzled and you feel relieved he isn’t here to cause any trouble.

‘’James mentioned to his mom about you and she probably invited you’’ he looks at you in disbelief but

‘’Because we went to collage together?’’

‘’No because you are an internationally acclaimed neurosurgeon and now a fucking superhero- wizard?’Please keep in check your inflated ego”

‘’Someone’s feeling bossy in white’’

‘’Don’t start and…Don’t call me that’’ you say pointing your finger at him

‘’Not a big fan of weddings so tell me are are brides supposed to be so stressed?’’ he makes another attempt to lighten up the mood but he knows it's futile.

‘’Do you want me to go?’’ he says in a serious tone and tries to hide his disappointment

‘’Dottie will want to parade you all around. She’ll kill me if I tell you to leave’’

‘’Does she know about…’’ he asks and you look at him with wide eyes full of panic that kills him.

“Don’t be absurd. James doesn’t know so she doesn’t either’’ she quickly says and he has to bite down his tongue to not ask you why you’re so ashamed.

‘’So where is your mom? I was excited to see her’’ he sighs and looks around the crowd of unknown faces.

‘’She couldn’t come’’ you quickly say and look down at your feet embarrassed with the bad lie.

‘’To her daughter’s rehearsal dinner? Isn’t the wedding tomorrow?’’ he chuckles, clearly not buying it.

‘’What’s up with the third degree? Are you suddenly Sherlock Holmes?’’ you ask defensively in a stern expression to stop this conversation.

‘’Just small talk. I forgot we’re beyond that. I should leave you to it and go get a drink’’

‘’Don’t’’you mutter and immediately reach for his hand. You feel a jolt of electricity that causes you dread. You feared that if you ever touched him again you would have a hard time pulling away.

His heart sinks as you touch his arm, gently but firm like always but also slightly different than what he remembered.

As you realise what you did you retrieve your hand and look down almost ashamed with yourself.

“Come. Let’s not keep Dottie waiting to meet your grace” you say and you take him into the crowd.

Stephan had made a name for himself in the medical field, he lost his talent, saved the reality and even though he felt a chamged man he realised nothing could beat the suffocating feeling social parties caused him. The supposedly intimate and close party before your wedding had turned into another social event perfect for networking and aimless small talk.

He had changed yet everything around him felt the same.

You and your mother in law introduced him to enough people to make his hand hurt from all the firm handshakes but despite the endless boredom and headache it caused him all it took was one glance at you and he found the power to do anything.

It surprised him how something you work really hard for and have the best intentions for, dreams and expectations suddenly just doesn’t work out. The second year of your dating he tested if your last name suited his name as well as his last name fitted your name. It did and if he was to ever marry you he wouldn’t mind taking your last name. Now he stands beside you a few hours before the wedding and he can go along perfectly with every person you introduce him to. He fits into your life perfectly like a piece on a puzzle and he hopes you can see it and keep him around.

Then your husband comes and wraps his arm around your waist and Steohen realises that the puzzle might be complete. Yet he looks at you longing for you. Can you see that? Does it make you feel something or it makes you indifferent? He knows there is a crowd and he has done things to hurt you but can you see beyond that and into his soul like you always knew so well to do?

“So how are things besides the wedding? How’s work?” he asks as you two escape to the terrace for some peace after all the endless socialising.

“I quit my job actually” you admit and his eyes widened in shock.

“You did?” He asks trying hard to hide his surprise “I thought you loved your job”

He doesn’t think he knows. How could he forget how passionate you were about your profession, how you loved taking care of people. Plus you looked really good in the white coat, a thing he seemed to love at the end of your shifts./whenever you worked the same shifts.

“I have changed Stephen” you say your voice is firm and assertive and you scan his face trying to see his true feelings. Shock, surpise, disappointment and for some reason sadness? You hated the reaction of your parents but you feared his.

“I mean I still love it but I wouldn’t mind a break. Anyway I’ll be busy. We bought a new apartment and after our honeymoon we’ll do a renovation, then there is the interior design and his mother helped me get into a committee of some organisation. There are many things I’ll have to take care of”

All it takes is one look to notice his obvious disappointment, your explanation is too weak to convince him. Truth to be told you are disappointed in yourself too, becoming a type of woman you never expected to be, one that he definitely doesn't recognise.

You both nod your heads and a pause follows. You both dropped your fake polite smiles you wore and the tension is thick with all the unspoken emotions and expectations neither of you dare to put into words or even make sense of. You look inside your gaze falling on your mother in law.

He follows your gaze and for a moment he wonders if it is a preview to the future. Is that the woman you look up to now? The woman he once swore to himself to love forever?

‘’Your mother in law is…she is something’’ he says trying to keep himself from chuckling.

‘’Come on. Since when did you become polite? Just say what’s on your messed up mind” you look over at him eager to push him to say all the ugly things you know he is thinking.

‘’She is a bitch” he says, his eyes locked with yours carefully waiting for any shift in your expression.

“She is the upper east side charity event, wamable socialite turned philanthropist with a tone of repressed feelings and dreams and an affair with the pool boy from her Hamptoms estate on the way”

“That’s very bold and awfully descriptive” you say, never taking your eyes off him. For a moment there is a mutual understanding, a raw feeling and a silence that you find unbearable.

“Well you are right. If she see me eating she will literally kill me’’

‘’Why? You look perfect’’ he smiles slyly and shamelessly looks at you up and down, taking in every curve and contour of your body.

‘’She ordered the wedding dress two sizes smaller’’ you say to make your mother in law like a bitch so you’ll laugh but you notice how his smile slightly falterns at the mention of the wedding dress.

“Well James isn’t far from the finance guy stereotype. Do you remember those insufferable business school guys we met that one time at a party? They were wasted uet couldn’t stop explaining to us the stock market”

“Don’t talk about him like that” you say but your tone isn’t demanding or shows that you're trying to defend him in any way. It’s something you wished you could say as his soon to be wife and actually mean. Also James did try to explain stock to you like a million times.

‘’I love the dress’’ he says hoping to change the subject and for one more time he looks you up and down internally struggling to realise how someone can be so breathtaking.

‘’No you don’t’’ you smile politely knowing it is only an attempt to cheer you up but it hurts him how you don’t seem to trust him even in something as simple as a compliment.

‘’No, no. I would say it’s not your style but I don’t know you -no sarcasm intended. It does look good”

He almost wants to lick his lips as his gaze trails down your body. The soft and thin fabric is a good reminder that your body is exactly as he remembered.

“Silk…silk is very flattering to your body’’ he mutters and you can feel your cheeks burn. You can’t believe how once again he has flustered you even though you shouldn’t want his compliments and the fact that on that day he is the only one who complimented you and was genuine makes this situation even more impossible.

‘’Why did you come here?’’ you ask softly and he is surprised with your gentle tone.

‘’I was forced”

He had promised himself to be guarded around you knowing that after all the history between you two he shouldn't be so vulnerable because your anger, even though understandable , would leave him lethally wounded. He never was one to betray such promises yet all it takes is a tiny sign of softness from you and he is crawling to your feet ready to be vulnerable and honest even if you’ll kick him away.

“I didn’t want to come because I thought you wouldn’t want to see me. But then there was the invitation for this little party so I was foolish to think it was a mixed message and you wanted to patch things up. I know it’s silly-’’

‘’It’s not silly” you give him a warm smile, the idea of having him by your side melting your heart.“Patching things up sounds nice’’ you say but you can see how he doesn’t believe you.

‘’Stephen I know I said some things-”

“You said things you ment and you were right. I had no right waltzing/bursting into your life like this and I had no right hurting you in the first place. I only ever want you happy and.. now you are” His palms are sweating as he says the million times rehearsed on the mirror speech and he prays it doesn’t sound emotionless. He says with all the courage he had managed to gather those past months.

“I am?” you hate how it came out as a weak question but right now you’re dying for some validation that you had made all the right choices and now you are happy.

“Yes. Which girl doesn’t dream of living in the big city, in one of the best neighbourhoods with a husband she loves-” he starts off himself a bit impressed with himself and how courageous he is. He feels genuinely like the bigger person even though that fact that he had prayed you would call off the wedding.

“It is a dream indeed” you cut him off and take a big sip from your champagne, his words doing more damage than good.

“I’m happy for you. You deserve to live a dream” he continues not picking up how you avoid his gaze. You don’t reply and he wonders if it was too much and you find him cheesy and ridiculous. He hates how he has to second guess himself and your once effortless conversations felt like walking on eggshells around you.

“Anyway I also came to bring you something before the wedding” he says and you watch as he searches in the inner pocket of his suit.

He is holding a small bracelet. Not designer, not gold or silver but an old well preserved bracelet of yours you had almost forgotten about. He remembers the day you had given it to him. It was your lucky bracelet and whenever you wanted to cheat in some exam it always brought you luck. It was his first big surgery and to help him feel less stressed you had given it to him.

“It's yours. You forgot it when you packed your things that day. I shouldn’t have kept it all those years but I did. You should have it”

For a brief moment his hand touches yours as he places the bracelet in your palm. The metallic bracelet feels cold against your skin but all you cared about is how your hand almost burned where he touched you.

“You can wear it. Or James, I don’t know”

You look up at him desperate to say so many things but unable to speak a word. You don’t want the bracelet. Its memory has faded and you can barely remember the version of you that loved it. There is a strange and foreign feeling in your heart you can’t point your finger to but you want it gone. You feel as if all those years you were searching for something lost and now that you came upon it you can’t remember why you were looking for it or its importance.

You don’t remember how you once were someone who believed in luck who felt fearless and ready to dominate the whole world and make it hers. Now you feel little and all you wish is to fade away. No one would notice and it is both sad but also a relief.

“I think you should keep it”

A sudden feeling of escape hits you and you want that version of you to survive being somewhere else and not here where you are.

Stephen can’t bear your rejection. He wants to keep it as much as he wants to keep you but most of all the memory of you two together, the memory of himself when he had it all. He wants that version of himself to be with you, he wants you to be happy and if he can’t be with you then he can compromise knowing part of him is.

He can see you changing no matter how he wished he was blind. His memory of you is fading and you’re turning into a stranger he’ll never get to know.

“I can’t keep it. It's yours. It’s your luck and I’ve been holding onto it for longer than I should”

And then it hit you. He didn’t come here to patch things up but say goodbye. Your heart is racing and you bite down your tongue to keep your emotions in check.

“I see. You want to hold your own luck in your hands” you give him a fading smile the only thing keeping you from saying something bitter and mean. You know you can’t blame him for letting go no matter how much want to. “we should be the masters of our own fate”

“I’m not a good person. I wasn’t back then and I doubt I am now but you make me hope I can be one day. Your forgiveness means more than you could ever imagine” he takes your hand into his but you feel no comfort.

“Which makes me sound like an asshole asking you for something on your wedding day but nevermind. Now let me help you with that” he lets go of your hand and takes the bracelet.

“Maybe it can be my something old for the wedding” your eyes are fixed on his face and you hope your words will hurt him deeply. You curse yourself for being such an awful person.

“Maybe” he gives you one of his charming smiles and the bracelet is set on your wrist.

“You’ll make a wonderful bride” he looks at you affectionately, his eyes lingering on your face as if he is trying to memorise every little detail.

“White is your colour for a reason right? I bet you’re getting married just for that. Of course the attention and the gifts” he says and no matter how much it hurts you can’t help but laugh.

“Also the gown” you laugh your words tasting bittersweet in your mouth.

“The gown of course. Is it puffy, promise me it’s puffy. Puffy with bows” he asks with pleading puppy eyes.

“Please I would die” you chuckle and as you place some of your hair behind your ear the charms of the bracelet hit each other making a long forgotten sound.

“No? I find it pretty classy”

“I hate you” you say and you smile with perhaps the wider smile you ever had over the past years.

“Fuck I have to go” he looks at his watch and you can feel a knot in your stomach “We have a situation at the sanctarum”

“Long story. I honestly would have found someone else to deal with it but I didn’t think I’d stay herr for long. I thought you'd kick me out the moment I stepped my foot in here”

“Like I have ever been abusive with you” you roll your eyes with his dramatic comment.

“Only in the ways I liked it” a sly smirk plays on his lips but you don’t care and smile back. You don’t care if tomorrow is your wedding, you certainly don't care if he is your ex and that comment is bringing back memories that are not so innocent.

“Go back to your magic word you disgusting wizard”you say and playfully hit him on the arm. There is a burning sensation you’d like to hold onto for eternity.

“I want to say domestic abuse but I don’t think I can’t” he looks at your happy face and he now believes it that soon to be brides are shining with joy. He only wishes he could cause that joy.

“No, no you can’t” you chuckle and a pause follows. Despite the deafening silence there are so many things unsaid.

“I’ll see you tomorrow” he rests his hand on your shoulder, his eyes locked on yours and he wonders if you can pick up on his lie. He can’t bear witnessing your wedding if now just your smile makes him feel as if he was looking directly at the sun.

“Okay” you softly say and you catch yourself hoping the next day would come as fast as possible just to see him. “I’ll see you tomorrow”

The sensation of his touch is still lingering hours after he left. The bracelet is still on your wrist and you hate how strange and unknown it feels against your skin. It doesn’t belong and it shouldn’t.

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

James’ question snaps you out of your thoughts and you look across the room at him surprised and puzzled.

“What?”

“Do you think I’m stupid? As a person I mean.” he stops unbuttoning his shirt and takes a step closer to your bed where you are sitting a second ago lost in thought. You don’t understand his question or how to answer it.

“Where were you all night long?” he notices the slight change in your expression but doesn't wait for you to reply. “I wanted to introduce you to some guys from work and some relatives and I just couldn’t find you”

“I was there of course” you say and smile sheepishly as if that would put him at ease.

“Do you really think I don’t see the way he looks at you? That face he makes whenever I put my arms around you or kiss you? Or do you think I’m blind and didn’t notice how you two completely disappeared all night long?”

You bite the inside of your cheek and you just look at him. He doesn’t look disappointed or hurt or even angry and that makes you feel even more nervous.

“Stephen and I are friends” the lie feels so easy to say but too heavy to hear and believe. You don’t believe yourself and he doesn’t believe you either.

“Friends don’t look at each other like that” he says and looks at himself in the mirror as he takes off his tie.

“After your birthday party I had to ask your friends since you didn’t tell me, turns out you used to date for six years. You had told me your past relationship meant nothing and I believed you. But six years? Six fucking years of your life and you never cared to menrion him once?" He scoffs and you wish he could strangle you with his tie.

"James-"

"You told me your past relationship meant nothing" he lets go of his tie and takes another step closer to you.

"It meant nothing. And if you minded then why did you let your mother invite him here?" You ask defensively.

"I believed it meant nothing until he came here and you disappeared. A day before our wedding"

"That party was suffocating. I wanted a break" you finally admit, unable to hold back or bite your tongue anymore.

"Oh give me a break” he laughs dryly before he looks at you and pauses for a moment his expression turning serious again. He kneels down and takes your hands into his while you just watch him in shock.

“I'm not perfect. I have flaws and I know I can be...a jerk sometimes. I talk too much but somehow manage to never say anything of substance. I make stupid shallow jokes and do stupid things to fit in and hide how...I'm not as sophisticated and as real as you even if I have the money. I know all that but I'm trying. I'm not the perfect husband. I'm probably not even a very good person but I try. And I want to work on us. But despite my flaws I don't think I deserve to be lied to like you did"

Your expression softens and you feel a pang of guilt and shame. His once smug demeanour had shifted into something more vulnerable and raw, a moment so rare in your relationship that makes you uncomfortable.

You look down at him as he shakes his head trying to hold something back but he makes a scoffing sound and looks again at you.

"And youre so so difficult. Whining and complaining about my mother, me, the prenup, your job and don't deny it because you might not say something but I can see your face. So here I am putting all the effort and trying to make everything perfect for Miss Perfect and you’re flirting and hiding away with an ex. So please get off your high white horse because you're deeply flawed and frankly too broken to be judging me or my mother or my friends or my family. Our fucking family”

You’re taken aback but he seems pleased finally letting out he has been holding inside him for far too long. He stands up and walks to the mirror continuing getting undressed as if nothing had happened. You look at him for a moment shocked, hurt and confused.

He doesn’t seem to pay you any mind and you stand up walking out of your bedroom. Your head is foggy and millions of thoughts are running through your head none of them clear. You can feel the cold air hit you but you have no clue where you’re headed just that your steps are determined. Despite the unclear thoughts you feel oddly There is knock but you don’t seem to process the noise till the door opens

“What..what are you doing here?” Stephen looks at you confused.

After minutes of walking without realising where you’re going his voice brings you back to reality and you feel like you’re waking up from a dream. You take a small step forward and you kiss him, nothing gentle or soft but an intense passionate kiss that conveys all the frustration and desperatetion and longing.

[joelswritingmistress]

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 34

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible. 

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader 

The night ended more lighthearted. Dr. Miller and I took advantage of the frozen lake and the scenery again, skating around and taking pictures of the winter wonderland. We had a few drinks, went out for dinner, and spent most of the night thereafter in the loft. If I had it my way, I wouldn’t have left that little nook in the woods.

“We should rent this place again in the summer,” I said to him. “I bet it’s nice to kayak around.. maybe go fishing.. hike the trails. Oh, and I saw a new, little brewery is supposed to be having its grand opening in May nearby.”

Dr. Miller smiled. “I can book it now for July.”

I loved thinkin about the future, even if it was just a matter of months. For a second I daydreamed images of a tan Dr. Miller by my side, shirtless and glistening in the sun. It made me smirk.

Bidding a temporary farewell to the lakeside cabin was bittersweet, though Dr. Miller already put in a request for the summer before we took off for home.

“The good news is we have another getaway at my sister’s wedding next weekend,” Dr. Miller explained as we hit the highway. “Can you get off work for the rehearsal dinner on Friday? I may cancel Thursday’s class so we can hit the road when you get out of work on Thursday. It’s a pretty good haul up to Vermont.”

I nodded, “Of course. I can’t wait.”

When Tuesday’s class rolled around I decided to confront Trevor on the walk out. His constant stares were starting to bug me and he hadn’t spoken a word to me since the day I’d left Dr. Stevenson’s class to give a sneaky kiss to Dr. Miller in his office. A part of me wanted to ask him what he thought he knew, but I also didn’t want to accidentally rat myself out - or Dr. Miller.

Otherwise, I was very much into the class discussion, and loved how Dr. Miller smiled a certain way when he called on me to answer a question. I loved his class. On a side note, there was a certain level of sneaky amusement I felt from having this secret life with him. No one in the class had even the slightest indication that we lived together, or that we just celebrated Valentine's Day shacked up in a remote, lakeside cabin. There was a part of me that got off on our secret.

“So,” Dr. Miller clapped his hands together. “I'm going to post something for you to read and look over. You'll be able to even discuss points online if you'd like, but Thursday's class will not meet in person. My sister is getting married out of state and I'll be traveling to Vermont on Thursday in preparation for that.”

“Congratulations!” Someone's voice echoed off the walls, making a few others laugh. “To your sister,” the person added, drawing more laughter.

“Thank you,” Dr. Miller responded with a chuckle. “If there are no further questions -”

“Class dismissed,” the group said in unison.

I smiled to myself and stuffed my notebook into my bag. It was always odd to me as I left the classroom. Dr. Miller and I were so affectionate and borderline clingy everywhere else. That's the only part I hated - not being able to be ourselves during that short time frame we had together on campus.

My phone went off and I glanced down, smiling when I saw it was him. 

See you at home.

I glanced toward him and our eyes briefly met as he began packing up his black bag.

And then, as I ducked out into the hallway, Trevor leaned over getting a drink of water. He was one of the only people I ever saw use the water fountain in the building.

I went to call out to him but then decided against it. Why was I about to create a conflict out of nothing? Plus, I reminded myself, he had walked with me to class when I didn't want to walk alone.

I passed by, glancing over at him. Just as he finished getting a drink our eyes met for a brief moment. I looked away and kept walking, using the stairs to get up to the main floor.

Behind me, I heard Trevor clear his throat and then his feet peppered up the stairwell behind me. I yanked open the door to enter the lobby and Trevor’s footsteps came faster.

“Could you hold that, please?” His nasally voice called out.

I sighed to myself but turned around with a half-smile and a nod.

“Thank you.” He hurried to reach for the door and held it so I could go ahead first.

“No problem.” I continued walking and Trevor cleared his throat again as he scurried up beside me.

“Have any plans for the long weekend?” He asked, gripping the straps of his backpack as we wandered toward the main doors.

“Hmm.. I might go visit my parents,” I lied, “But nothing else. You?”

He shrugged. “I may go skiing.”

So am I, I thought, even though I didn't know how. Carol’s wedding. “You ski?”

“Doesn't everyone in the Catskills area?” He snorted a laugh at himself and I smirked.

“Everyone but me.” I smiled back. “I don't know how.”

“I've been skiing since I've been five.”

“Cool.”

“I could always give you lessons. I used to give lessons before I started working for UPS.”

“I didn't know you worked for UPS.”

“For now.” He grinned and followed me out into the parking lot.

I glanced over at him as he continued to trail me out into the parking lot. I felt like he was velcroed to me. He was so close.

“Well, I'll see ya later Trevor.” I reached for the handle on my car as I approached and he cleared his throat again.

What is his deal? I wanted to blurt it out, but I wasn’t the type to be super direct like that. He wasn’t doing anything wrong - just being awkward and slightly annoying.

Trevor raised a hand to wave, almost robotically, as I pulled out of the parking space and edged my way down the rows of cars to exit the campus parking lot. When I was close to a half-a-football field away, I caught a glimpse of him waving his hands wildly in my direction. I wasn’t even sure if he was trying to flag me down, or was summoning someone else. And so, I kept driving. I didn’t see Dr. Miller exit the building.

“What’s the matter?” Dr. Miller approached Trevor when he heard the commotion.

Trevor reached into the pocket of his jacket and stared down at the screen of a cell phone. He eyed the screen, reading a notification as it flashed across.

YOUR STOWE, VT LIFT TICKETS ARE NOW AVAILABLE TO PUT INTO I-WALLET. CLICK THE BANNER TO CONFIRM.

Dr. Miller’s eyes landed on the familiar phone cover. He had the urge to yank it from Trevor’s hand and demand why he had (Y/N)’s phone, but he knew he had to restrain himself.

“Who’s the phone belong to?” Dr. Miller asked, knowing damn well who it belonged to.

“I-I..” Trevor looked down at it again and spoke to himself. “She said she couldn’t ski.” He scratched his head and continued to stare at the screen.

“Trevor.” Dr. Miller closed the gap between the two of them. “Why do you have that phone?”

“One of my friends from class dropped it,” he claimed, “She just drove off. I was trying to flag her down.” Trevor slipped the phone back into his pocket and Dr. Miller extended his hand.

“I’ll turn it in to campus police.”

He kept the phone in his coat. “I can do that.”

“I insist.” Dr. Miller nodded and kept his palm facing up a few inches in front of Trevor. “I’m sticking around here anyway to do a few things.”

Trevor stared up at him, and then looked back down to his hand. He didn’t immediately hand over the phone. “Where did you say your sister’s wedding was?”

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@untamedheart81 @suttonspuds @cesspitoflove @michilandcof @grogusmum @morallyinept @akah565 @brittmb115 @magpiepills @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @mermaidgirl30 @mandijo17 @shotgun-shelby @itscatrodriguez-thepearl @macaroni676 @acciowolfstar1 @smolbeanzzz @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @bandluvr97

[goldenfigtree]

OMG THAT WAS ONLY PART 1 OF THE FIC ????? HELP I NEED MORE I NEED TO SEE MORE OF THIS

Raise A Glass

Summary: Part 2 of 3, After your passionate moment with Leon in the garden, you feel even more conflicted than you were before.

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x FemReader

Warning: Fluff

A/N: Ask and you shall receive! Part one is below if you've yet to read it :)

Part one

Bright and luminous, the moon hangs from its invisible string, blissfully unaware of its glow shining through your windows and onto your face. The sounds of Will’s snores were the only sound throughout your home while you laid in bed without a blink of sleep, fingers intertwined together and thumbs twiddling. 

This was unlike you, especially with the rehearsal dinner coming soon this evening and the wedding another day later. Most days that consisted of wedding planning left you in shambles, collapsing onto your plush mattress with a pitiful whine into your pillows and soon after, sleep swooping you under its wing. This new stressful yet effective routine had helped you gain all the hours of sleep you purposely lost before. But not this time, not when your mind was captivated with guilt, confusion, and stress. Ever since that moment in the garden, your mind has been an utter mess. 

You thought you were in a moment of distress before, hell, now you really knew what distress was after leaving Leon in such a state. 

You let out a sharp exhale through your teeth, brows furrowed as Leon’s face flashed into your mind, your lipstick residue on his lips, over and over again. And those eyes, God, those ocean blue irises watching you run away. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. 

The antique grandfather clock Will refused to throw out, despite your visible distaste for it, mocked you with its consistent clicking. Only reminding you that you needed to decide what road to take, now that there were two. Sliding your hands underneath the pillow lying under your head, you bring the sides to your ears in hopes the ticking and clicking will go away. 

God, you always hated that clock, you didn’t care if it was a family heirloom. It was as hideous as it is noisy, but Will insisted. Just like how he insisted on having yellow as one of the colors of the wedding theme, forgetting how much you despised the color. You really wished time travel was a thing so you could stop yourself from fighting with him about how little effort and input he had put into the wedding. Maybe while you were at it, you could stop yourself from kissing those soft plump lips at the garden fountain. . 

No, you couldn’t even if you tried. 

You wouldn’t admit it to anyone but that man had always been the apple of your eye. One mission with you and him as partners was all that it took for the both of you to hit it off. It was hard to not get along with Leon Kennedy. Someone so humble, kind, and loyal to his comrades. You always knew, if all else fails, Leon Kennedy was there to save the day. Which was also why he was overly worked. Everyone knew the way Leon Kennedy executed missions and pushed himself was on a different level. A level so many competitive and envious agents tried to achieve and so many other smitten agents oggled at. He was practically a celebrity to anyone working with the government. So, you didn’t look twice at the possibility of him perceiving you in any other light that wasn’t friendly, much less romantic. With all the options he had, certainly not. 

And yet, He kissed you.

Subconsciously, your bottom lip traps itself between your teeth. Being so good at everything, you didn’t expect him to be a good kisser too. What couldn’t that man do?

 Jesus Christ. How heartless can I be?

You think to yourself, turning to your soon-to-be husband, snoring away, blissfully unaware of the mess you were at the moment. At this point, sleep was a lost cause and you needed some fresh air. Swinging your legs to the edge of the bed, you slowly get up and walk out of the bedroom. Arms crossed, in your silk nightgown, you walk silently to your kitchen and make a beeline to the coffee maker. Call it self-sabotage, but you desperately need a friend. And since you kissed the only person you could talk to, coffee would have to suffice for now. Making it just the way you like, you walk outside and sit on one of the patio chairs, bathing in twilight as you take a comforting sip. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. 

There it was again, that blasted ticking of the grandfather clock– or was it just your head? It’s midnight and you’re exhausted from your mental turmoil so with another sip you decide to ignore it. However, one thought loomed over you like a stormy cloud, no matter the effort to fan it away,

You are getting married in two days. 

“What am I going to do?” You murmur to yourself, eyes pressed shut as you run a hand through your hair. Then you remembered, you do have someone you can talk to about this. Pulling your phone out from you pajama pants pocket, you dial the number quickly, “C’mon pick up. I know you’re awake” you whisper urgently to yourself as you hold up your phone to your ear. With two dials, a voice answers, 

“Can’t sleep either huh?” Claire wittedly greets over the line. Your lips curve into a smile of relief, 

“Nope” You perkily reply, earning a chuckle on the other end, “Do you have time to talk? I’m not bothering you, am I?” 

“No, what’s up?” 

There’s a pause between you that’s almost hesitant, hesitant enough for Claire to press, 

“Is everything okay?” With a sheepish chuckle, you shake your head, 

“Yeah yeah, I’m fine. I just need someone to talk to about… Leon” There’s another pause, 

“Oh!” Claire cheerily replies, almost too cheerful you noticed. 

“Yeah, did you see Leon at the engagement party a few days ago at all?” 

“Yeah, I bumped into him on the way to getting your engagement present. But after that, I didn’t see him for the rest of the evening”  

Your heart dropped, he must have left shortly after you ran away. You couldn’t blame him, but the thought of Leon being upset or hurt by you was slowly killing you inside. 

“Did.. something happen?” Claire gingerly asks. Squeezing your eyes shut, you let out a long sigh, 

“Yeah, I.. kissed him. At the engagement party” One hand holding the phone to your ear, you use the other to pinch the bridge of your nose as you continue, “I know Claire, I know” 

“Well, how was it?” You eyes flutter open in shock, 

“Huh?” 

“You heard me, how was it?” With a nervous chuckle, you try to find someway to word it, but your words were utterly failing you at the moment, 

“It was… awesome” Claire’s laughter erupts the phone as you wince at your choice of words, 

“Really?” Claire says teasingly,

“Shut up” 

“Any specific reason why you decided to kiss Leon at your engagement party?” 

“Well you, of all people, you know I’ve always had feelings for Leon. And then I met Will..” 

“Uhuh” Claire beckons you to go on,

“And Will’s just so nice and safe. Not something I’m particularly used to so I jumped into this relationship and now we’re getting married in two days and those feelings I have for Leon, they’re still there.” You ramble, voice trembling, your foot anxiously tapping on the floor as you look out to your freshly cut green lawn. 

“Sounds to me that you’re conflicted” 

“You think?” You mutter under your breath, anxious for some answers, some directions of which road to take,

“You mentioned you like Will because he’s safe right?” 

“Yeah, I mean he’s a teacher, so my work schedule won’t be hard if we start a family. And he makes me laugh. He’s just all around just a nice guy” 

“That’s nice n’ all but people usually get married for love not convenience” Claire bluntly comments, “Look, I know you, you’re not one to take risks, which can be good at times but to marry someone because they don’t challenge you is not safe” 

“So, should I run to Leon then?” 

“I don’t know, that’s for you to decide” Claire responds, earning another dramatic groan from you, “I know I know, but I’m not going to make life choices for you. Need help deciding whether to drink decaf or not, then I’ll have an answer for you” 

The both of you share a laugh as you feel the distress you were feeling a few minutes before slightly lift off. 

–

10 more minutes. 10 more minutes until everyone would arrive for the rehearsal dinner. You couldn’t help but repeat everything Claire had said in your head as you put on your earrings, 

“Safety or love, safety or love” you whispered to yourself, not realizing Will walking right past you, 

“You say something honey?” Avoiding his gaze, you try your best to focus on the application of your makeup as Will approaches you, pressing down the panic in your chest as you feel his presence closing in, 

“No, just focused on my makeup. Want it to be just right for tonight” Resting his hands on your shoulders, he looks at you through the bathroom mirror, his green eyes glowing from the bright bathroom light along with his shimmering golden blonde hair,

“You look great babe” He reassured pressing a kiss on the back of your neck. It took a second to realize that he did because what you felt was nothing, absolutely nothing, “Your family is on their way, Claire is going to be a little late” 

“Is Leon coming?” the green eyes in the reflection that once glowed with their usual uppity, darkened almost immediately, 

“I don’t know, why?” Averting his eyes you resume applying lipstick onto your lips. The air was so thick with tension it could be sliced through with a knife,

“Just wondering babe” you say as nonchalant as possible, earning a scoff from Will,

“You know he showed up late and left early at our engagement party? For someone that’s a close friend of yours, he sure doesn’t seem supportive” Will comments resentfully,

You could feel a coiling in your stomach at his words, your tongue suddenly having a mind of its own, 

“He’s very busy, Will. Him showing up for our engagement party and our rehearsal dinner is supportive enough” 

“That’s right, how could I forget? Leon Brown-Noser Kennedy can do no wrong in anyone’s eyes, especially yours” Will quips viciously, tightening the knot of his tie in the long mirror. The coil in your stomach tightened even more as you looked back at him through the bathroom mirror, pupils shrinking,

“What’s your problem?” You ask, glaring at him as you twist the cap of your mascara back in place. 

Will doesn’t look at you, only scoffs once more as he straightens his blazer, “what’s my problem?” with one last look in the mirror, he doesn’t look at you as he walks out of the room, only muttering one word in passing, “Nothing” 

You flinch at the sudden sound of him slamming the door, the sound alone preparing you, for what you already knew, was going to be a long night. But, you knew that you had to keep on with this search for what you wanted. And tonight, Leon was the one bearing the answers you so desperately needed. You wondered what he was thinking now, did he regret the kiss? Knowing him, you assumed he would want answers, answers you didn’t have yourself. Your rather gaudy engagement ring sparkles in the mirror aggressively, almost like the high beams of a car at night. Bringing it closer to your face, the memories stored in its jagged cuts and silver band dance around your head like a carousel. It was truly a beautiful moment, Will practically in tears as he professes his love to you on one knee, everyone around you at the pier looking at the both of you with awe and joy, the sun setting just for the two of you. It was truly breathtaking, but was it you? You had your wedding planned practically since birth, you knew exactly what type of cut of gemstone you wanted, the color scheme, the venue, the dress, absolutely everything. Was this massive rock on your finger what you admired in the wedding magazines as a kid? Was a public proposal always something you longed for when watching cheesy rom-coms? 

The answer was no and you knew it. But Will loved you, maybe not in the ways you wished he would but he loved you. Leon on the other hand, you had no idea how he felt and that alone was more terrifying than any biohazard monstrosity you’ve seen. One moment of passion wasn’t enough to throw this safety net away. You needed confirmation. You needed reciprocation. With a huff of a breath you look at yourself in the mirror, adjusting the neckline of your snowy white strapless dress. You were ready for this, you had to be for the sake of what lies ahead. 

Walking down the stairs, your can’t help but look around at who arrived, looking for a certain someone. It seemed that everyone noticed you make your entrance and looked up at you as you gazed down at them, gripping the stair railing to make sure you didn’t trip and fall to your death. You receive some greetings, some singing jokingly “here comes the bride”, but the only person you seemed to notice was him. 

He was there, gazing at you, pupils billowing, invading his blue irises. You almost forgot to breathe as you made your way down the stairs, step by step. Making it to the bottom, you make your way to him, eyes fixated at him with such determination that the crowd parted as you neared them. Finally, you meet him where he stands, 

“Can we talk?” You ask quietly, so no one else could hear. You try your hardest not to glance down at his lips but it seemed that Leon didn’t hesitate to look down at yours before nodding. The tension between the two of you dissolving by the clearing of the throat by Will, 

“Better dig in before the food gets cold, you coming sweetheart?” Will asks expectantly, lending a hand for you to take. Your heart drops at the sight of it, you hoped to get your answers before dinner. Before Leon decided to briskly sneak away back to the comfort of his home like last time. But, with one last longing look, you take Will’s hand and let him lead you to the dining room. 

The dining room was centered with a long glossy wood table, golden candleholders held the tall waxy candles in place as they dripped along the rims. Food trays and bowls lined and scattered along the table. The candlelight made the food and atmosphere all the more alluring enough for everyone to quickly sit down and be ready to serve themselves. 

The small talk with in-laws alone was thinning your patience, only the few glances at Leon talking to Claire keeping you sane. Sometimes Leon would make eye contact with you and smile, you couldn’t help but smile back before noticing the squeezing of your hand by Will’s. After a bit of eating and socializing, Will taps his champagne glass with his spoon to quiet down your guests, 

“First of all, I just want to thank all of you for coming to support our union. I hope your full bellies are evident enough of our gratitude” polite laughter briefly rises at his words before he continues on, “It’s an Allen family tradition to have a few people make a toast to the soon-to-be wed couple, care to start us off Leon?” 

Everyone at the table immediately snaps their necks to look at him for his reaction. It was safe to say this wasn’t expected. Your stomach dropped as you looked up at Will, eyebrows turned up in worry as you glanced back at him apologetically. Leon, being Leon, only gives you a reassuring smile before standing up and lifting his glass with him, 

“First, I’d like to say congratulations to the lovely couple” both your family and Will’s nod in approval, 

“Choosing the person you want to spend your life with, is the most important decision in our lives. It should be with someone that knows you, challenges you, sees all the good in you that you don’t see in yourself. And I have to say William, you have found that someone in her.” 

While he says this, his eyes slowly trail to you, giving you a warm feeling in your chest, “The moment I saw you, I knew there was something special about you. Then once I got to meet you, I found out I was right. You carry yourself with so much strength but also with so much love to give. And I’m so grateful to be one of the receptors of it. I think I might have taken it for granted. But I need you to know now and forever, no matter where you are, no matter who you’re married to, I will always love you” 

Your heart skips a beat as your eyes drip with tears, yet never straying away from his, deafening silence fills the dining hall as relatives and friends glance at one another in shock and confusion. This was it, the confirmation you were looking for, brought to your feet.  

“Like a brother to his sister, cheers to the Bride and Groom” He adds to save face before lifting his glass higher, the rest of the table following suit before gulping down their champagne.

[punkshort]

what are roommates joel and readers love languages? Or is this something you'd answer later once they're together hehe

I held onto this ask so I could answer it closer to the end of the series, and since the final chapter is posting on Saturday, I figured it would be a good time to discuss!

I'm going to talk about their receiving love languages first.

I think reader's receiving love language is Quality Time. She enjoys watching movies together with Joel at the beginning of their story, then once they moved in together she liked cooking dinner with him for the house or running errands for the party. I think in those moments, they learned the most about each other and it really cemented the building blocks of their relationship.

Joel's receiving love language was a tough one. I initially wanted to say Physical touch, but I kept coming back to how hopeless he felt when he would see reader with another man and how it just seemed to consume him, so I landed on Words of Affirmation. Even though he and reader were having sex and spending the night together from time to time, it wasn't fulfilling enough for him. He wanted to hear her say she wanted him. He desperately wanted to know that what they had was more than just a physical connection. He had his suspicions, but reader couldn't just come out and say it, and it made him insecure. "We ever gonna talk 'bout last weekend or you gonna keep pretending you're happy with him?" How badly he wanted to track down reader after the wedding rehearsal to try to drag the truth out of her after her "I was so fucking stupid" comment, and even after their speeches at the wedding when he, in his own way, asked if she was in love with him when they were together. "You ever have that?" he asked ... "Friendship that turns into love?" Like, he needed to hear it.

So their giving love languages I think are the same. At least, at the end of the story, they are pretty clearly Acts of Service. Reader enlisted the help from a therapist to deal with her insecurities and work through her complicated feelings for Joel because he meant so much to her, she was willing to find a way to make it work, despite her reservations about his job. Sure, most people would have an issue dating a pornstar, but reader went ahead and had a prolonged affair with him anyway, knowing full well what he did for a living. And as Tommy pointed out, why wasn't it an issue for her then? Joel told her time and time again that his job is just a job, but she couldn't trust him. So by seeking treatment, she was looking to get to the root of her issues so she could go to him and say, 'Here. I had a problem, I'm working on it, I am in a good place now, please let me prove it to you.'

And the same goes for Joel. He wanted to do whatever it took so reader would give him a chance and he quit his job. It took a few months to finish up his contracts and he had to come up with a backup plan, which was complicated and scary in its own right. But the biggest takeaway was they both did these things without even knowing for sure the other would be willing to try again and make a relationship work, but they hoped a grand gesture would be enough to prove their love for one another.

These are just my opinions, if you guys have any other thoughts I would love to hear them!

[jisungsdaydreamer]

The Happiest Day of Her Life

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SYNOPSIS He'll always smile if it's for you.

Pairing: Hyunjin x fem!reader Genre: angst Warnings: heavy drinking, unhappy ending, heartbreak Word Count: <;1k

P.S. ♡ If you like my work, please consider giving me feedback in the form of reblogs, comments, and asks! ♡

“I do.” 

You smile at Minho as you are both pronounced married; your heart has never been more full. He giddily dips you back when he kisses you, making you forget the entire world around you. You don’t notice the tightness of your menacing designer high heels. You don’t hear the thunderous applause from all of your swooning guests. You don’t notice your best friend’s heart breaking while he claps louder than anyone else in the crowd.

Hyunjin watches as you marry the love of your life, looking like the radiant and joyful bride that he always knew you would be. He just never imagined you’d be someone else’s and not his. You were each other’s first loves, but that love couldn’t last on both ends, eventually fading away on yours. You cherish him as your best friend, not the man you loved so long ago, and that’s why he’s here. After all, he’d watched as you fell in love again, with someone better than him in every way. He’d listened as you giddily told him about Minho, assuming that time had healed all wounds. He’d congratulated you as you showed off your shimmering diamond ring, forgetting that once upon a time, you had told Hyunjin you would marry him.

The entire ceremony was stunning, especially the vows that you and Minho had handwritten for each other. There wasn’t a dry eye in the crowd. Except for Hyunjin’s, ironically. The night before, he’d left the rehearsal dinner early, faking a headache and getting stupid drunk in his hotel room. An hour later, he sat slumped next to the toilet bowl and cried his heart out until morning. 

When the best man, Jisung, had banged on his door, reminding him to get off of the bathroom floor and get ready for the wedding he could not miss, he had looked into the mirror and promised himself that he would not shed one more tear. Not until tomorrow, because tomorrow, Hyunjin could lose it. But today, he will keep it together, for you. He will be happy for you, because this is the happiest day of your life. And he cannot ruin it.

You always wanted a beach wedding, and you finally have it, as you dance on the soft sand in your new husband’s arms. There are dainty festival lights strung up everywhere, and the mix of sweet music and the pleasant chatter is absolutely perfect. As you lean your head against Minho’s chest, serenely closing your eyes while he whispers sweet nothings into your ear, Hyunjin knows he can walk away.

So he does, wandering away from the reception and further along the beach, until he can’t hear the voices anymore. He finds a stray log washed up on the sand and sits on it, watching the sun slowly set. The hours pass, as the festivities go on and its lights twinkle in the distance, but Hyunjin stays there, quietly observing the roll of gentle waves.

The vibration of his watch snaps Hyunjin out of his reverie, signaling the end of the day. Midnight. Hyunjin lifts his head to look up at the moon, observing how even she had the stars in the sky to keep her company, unlike him. The pain is overwhelming, coming out of Hyunjin in a shattering sob. Finally, he lets the tears he has been holding back roll down his cheeks, uninhibited and raw.

Back at the party, you and Minho ask around if anyone has seen Hyunjin, both wanting to take photographs with him and preserve another beautiful moment of the day on paper. But Hyunjin will never forget what this day felt like, because today was the day that the love of his life was the happiest he had ever seen her. And that will be enough for him.

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TAGLIST @chansburgah (please message to be added!)

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[reyesstrand]

i’m presenting a theory that’ll likely be wrong but!

so we know at some point tk asks owen to be his best man. we know this season is emphasizing his and owen’s relationship—tk refers to him as his best friend, owen expresses regret over how he handled telling tk about his cancer diagnosis and vows to never hide anything from him again.

we also know that carlos views his relationship with gabriel as a sore spot. he views owen and tk as having a great father-son dynamic. he tells andrea he feels he wouldn’t measure up and that’s the source of his conflict with wanting to be a father, most of which stems from the fact that he and gabriel just started having a relationship a couple of years ago…which still seems rife with complexities and deeply repressed issues due to ideas around masculinity, sexuality and other things that come about when carlos, the only boy and (likely) youngest kid is raised in a traditional household. we see carlos and gabriel embrace when carlos is saved, and you can see the love for his son gabriel has, but it’s also not hard to extrapolate from the scenes we’ve gotten from them that this isn’t something that’s expressed a whole lot.

so we know that carlos seeks out gabriel (likely a short while before the wedding) and asks him to be his best man. his reasoning is “you’re the best man i know” and i’m wondering if this is his attempt at an olive branch—at reaching out to his father before he gets married. and i’m wondering if whereas owen jumps at the opportunity to be tk’s best man, gabriel….hesitates.

i’m wondering if it’s kind of weighing on gabriel like….how their relationship has had its issues. i’m wondering if it’s going to open up a can of worms. we know he’s at the rehearsal dinner and seemingly happy, and we know he of course accepts and supports carlos and tk’s relationship, but i wonder if we’ll see him question why on earth carlos would want him to take on this role after all these years of miscommunication and emotional distance.

i think they’re purposely being shady with the promo so we don’t see whether or not gabriel is standing at carlos’ side as his best man, just like they’re hiding whether or not he’s at the wedding. but this still speaks volumes to me

alongside the fact that carlos is wearing gabriel’s ring. i think we’ll get a moment before the ceremony of gabriel either suddenly accepting the role (meaning iris, who is wearing a boutonnière similar to paul/owen/tk/carlos’ can step aside and just be a guest) or simply handing him his ring as a symbol of his love and his support and a promise to be better and talk more. and i think the still above, with carlos teary-eyed and and gripping tk’s hand, is gabriel standing up in front of everyone and giving a speech that shows how much respect he has for his son (and new son-in-law), how much he loves him, and how carlos is the best man he knows. cue tears for everyone and a step into carlos and gabriel working on their relationship. and leaving whatever this tragedy is (if there’s even something that big, we know how lone star plays us with wording) to something else.