#me thinking of how I planned their entire wedding.

[peskypescatarian]

mad relationship anxiety today i dont want it!

[tenshindon]

weddin time :)

[thursdayg1rl]

one of my old friends who moved to France came back omg !!

[autumnrory]

seeing the mcu continue after endgame would be like if how i met your mother stayed on after the finale and it was just like "yeah we undid barney's character development and killed off tracy and pushed ted and robin back together even though it made no sense but anyway here you go :)"

AND it would also be like if the himym finale had been loved by most fans even though both himym and endgame just erased a decade (give or take) of work in one fell swoop. if fans were like, "wow, i think that was a great episode for everyone! really did them justice!" and i'd just be sitting there like WHAT? did you not see what they did to their story??? that's what it feels like.

[strawbebyjam]

ahaha /realizes i’m burned out

[sapphire-writes]

Playing with Fire (part 3)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader x Aegon II Targaryen

summary: Deep feelings awaken within you as you continue to explore your relationships with the princes. A betrothal is announced.

warnings: some sensual themes, drinking

word count: 3.4k

A/N: the love for this series is unmatched! thank you for all your support so far hope you enjoy this part 💚

masterlist

“I do believe the dressmaker has outdone themselves this time,” your mother praises, smoothing the fabric of your evening gown. You gaze at your reflection in the mirror, unable to tear your eyes away from the soft pink color of your lips, still tingling from Aegon’s kiss. 

Aegon’s kiss.

The Targaryen prince had kissed you. Taken you to his chambers and kissed you, as he had done probably thousands of times before. Your stomach filled with butterflies at the memory. Could your mother see it? Could she read the blush on your cheeks, know that it was caused by a dragon prince? More than one dragon prince. 

Aemond sent those same feelings swirling in your belly, and he hadn’t even kissed you. You tried not to let your mind linger on that thought. It was Aegon’s hand everyone desired, after all. Aemond was not currently available for a match. 

“You look lovely, my darling,” your mother crooned, moving a loose piece of hair from your face. The dress she had chosen for the occasion was truly grander than your previous pieces. The fabric was a shimmering silver, with Myrish lace patterns swirling throughout the skirts like silver flames. 

A silver lady for a silver prince. 

You bite your lip nervously as you look at yourself in the mirror, and your mother makes a face at you. 

“None of that,” she scolds and you release your lip from between your teeth, “and no playing with your rings, nor your necklace.”

She is referring to the rather large heirloom that hangs in the hollow of your throat. You squeeze your fingers into your palms as though they have a mind of their own and will fly toward your throat at a moment’s notice.

You frown at her. 

“Shall I remain still for the entirety of the evening?” you ask as your mother fixes your hair. 

“I expect you to dance,” your mother says, “for the majority of the evening. But pace yourself with wine, you know how it goes to your head.”

You nod in agreement and release a short laugh. 

“And do not engage much with the other ladies, tonight is no night for gossip,” your mother says, fixing her own hair, “if you must speak with a lady, engage with Princess Helaena or Queen Alicent. They shall be your kin soon enough.”

You snort at your mother’s confidence. The woman is relentless. 

“Planning the wedding already?”

Your mother takes your hands in hers, bringing you to sit on a nearby chaise. 

“What happened during your time with Prince Aegon?” she asks, her curiosity evident in her expression and voice. 

“Which time?” you clarify.

“(Y/N),” she warns, “do not be clever with me.” 

“We simply conversed, tis all,” you tell her, “nothing indecent occurred I assure you.”

And he kissed me, you think to yourself. He kissed me and I wished it never stopped. I want him to keep kissing me again and again and -

“I told you he is a man of substance,” your mother says, face relaxing, “nothing like those gossips of court say.”

Perhaps I am famished, you remember him saying, his gluttonous eyes nearly devouring you whole in the hall. You wet your lips at the memory, cheeks flushing.  

A knock from the door makes your mother’s face light up.

“That must be Prince Aegon,” she says, nearly in a whisper as though Aegon can hear from across the room and through the door.

You rise from your seat and go to open the door. To your surprise, Aemond is the silver prince at your door. His seeing eye widens slightly at the sight of you, his pupil enlarging until it nearly encompasses the violet entirely. 

“My lady,” he says, nodding slightly, “I have come to escort you to the festivities, my brother sends his deepest apologies.” 

Your heart flutters in your chest. Is Aegon with someone else? It seems entirely possible, and entirely in character. Surely, another lady must have captured his attention. It was only a matter of time. A man with such a voracious appetite would hardly be satiated with a maiden such as yourself. You try to ignore the bitter taste this thought leaves in your mouth. 

“Oh,” you say, giving Aemond a soft smile. 

He looks towards the ground as though embarrassed under your gaze. You remember your conversation in the garden, how strange he thought it was for you to be on his arm. You wished you could take away some of the shame he felt. You turn towards your mother who stands with an incredulous expression on her face. 

“I shall go on ahead with Prince Aemond, mother,” you tell her. She nods with approval, a hesitant expression on her face. 

“Shall we?” you tell him, offering your arm to the one-eyed prince. Aemond meets your eyes, and drinks in the soft expression on your face, before taking your arm. 

“Darling,” your mother calls and you turn. She moves towards you, holding your masquerade mask out. A beautiful silver mask, seemingly conjured from only silver lace. You take it from her hands before taking your leave with Aemond. 

The halls are quiet on the side of the castle, and you assume everyone has made their way to the great hall. Your steps echo as you walk down the corridor. Aemond’s arm is warm against you, keeping you comfortable in the cool evening air. 

“One moment, my prince,” you tell him, before turning down the serpentine steps. You stop, holding the mask up to your face. Moonlight peaks through a window, bathing you in a silver glow. 

“Do you have a mask for the feast?” you ask and Aemond shakes his head, still not truly looking at you. His gaze dances around you, as though trying to stare. 

“I prefer the mask I normally wear,” he says, referring to his eye patch. You nod, attempting to tie the silk straps around your head. Aemond glances at you. 

“Allow me, my lady,” he offers and you smile graciously at him before turning. You can feel his long, dexterous fingers moving on the back of your head as he ties the mask to your face. You chew your lip since he cannot see, feeling your skin blossom with gooseflesh. 

“Nothing happened,” you find yourself saying, feeling his fingers still on the back of your head. 

Aemond is very gentle with you as he ties the ribbon of the mask, as though you may shatter from his touch. 

You do not know what compelled you to speak, something inside of you could not stop the words from bubbling out through your lips. 

“The previous night, when I happened upon Prince Aegon,” you continue, feeling your cheeks heat up at the confession.

“It does not matter if anything did,” Aemond answers, “you are here to vie for his hand.” 

“He did kiss me this afternoon,” you admit, for the first time out loud. Aemond lets out an unbothered hum. 

You inhale a deep breath, your back still towards him. You desperately wish to know what he is thinking. Is he disappointed? Jealous? Does he even care at all?

“I just wanted you to know,” you tell him, feeling his hands slip from you. You turn to face him, tilting your chin so you can look upon his face. 

“Why?” he asks, a curious expression on his face, pouty lips parted. 

“I do not know,” you admit, “I just wanted you to know.”

Aemond reaches out to you, fingers dancing across the fabric of your skirt. You watch his gaze fall before he drags it up toward your face, slowly as if he is reading the pages of a book. 

“You are very kind, Lady (Y/N),” he says, rubbing the fabric of your skirts between the pads of his fingers. 

“Thank you, my prince,” you tell him, feeling your heart race. 

“My brother does not always appreciate kindness,” he tells you. You wet your lips, bringing his attention to them.

“I do not wish you to get hurt,” Aemond continues, bringing his hand up to caress your cheek. You are sure he must feel the heat that gathers there. Your lips part at his touch. 

“I shall be alright,” you tell him, lashes fluttering against your cheeks. His presence wafts over you and covers you like a blanket. He smells woodsy, with a certain saltiness as though he was recently flying over Blackwater Bay. It is deliciously tempting to lean into his touch. 

“I shall make sure of it,” Aemond promises, bringing his other hand to cup both of your cheeks. 

Your eyes widen at his words, at the way he gently holds your face in the palms of his hands. With every stroke of his fingers against your cheeks a shiver of need rolls through you.

“Would you like that?” he murmurs. 

“Yes,” you whisper. 

Aemond leans forward and you close your eyes, feeling the sharp tip of his nose press against your face before his lips connect with yours. The kiss is soft and purposeful, a sweet promise. He turns his head, deepening the kiss, slipping his hot tongue into your mouth. You whimper against his mouth, and the prince pulls away.

The effects of the kiss are similar to that of Aegon’s kiss. A craving remains, settled deep within your bones and you want more. 

Aemond smiles at your reaction, your wide eyes, and puckered lips. 

“Let us continue to the feast, my lady,” Aemond says, taking your arm once more and escorting you down the steps. You swallow hard, bringing a hand up to your lips. 

You’ve now kissed two princes. Two brothers. Seven hells. 

The hall is alive with merriment when you arrive. Masked faces and flowing skirts flood the room, and music pours throughout, vibrating the very walls of the room. 

As you gaze upon the Iron Throne toward the back of the room you watch as the melded-down swords shiver with vibrations. You see your mother from across the room; somehow she has beaten you here. 

“I should go check in with her,” you tell Aemond, who releases your arm. 

“Of course, my lady,” he says, kissing the back of your hand, “I shall be watching.”

A shiver rolls through you at the thought. You make your way to your mother, who is lost in conversation with Lady Redwyne. 

“Mother,” you call, announcing your arrival. She gives you a disapproving look as you grab a cup from a serving tray. You drink the amber liquid greedily, you hadn’t realized how thirsty you had been. 

“What did I say?” she tells you, as Lady Redwyne glances over to acknowledge you. 

“To watch my wine?” you tell her, brows furrowed, motioning towards the empty glass. 

“To dance, my daughter,” she says, shooing you away, “go on now, be young!”

Be young? Does that include kissing princes? 

You shake your head at her but continue to the dance floor as a group dance is soon to begin. As you stand next to a lady whose name you cannot remember, someone pushes into you. You turn and meet the glare of Cassandra Baratheon. 

“How lovely you look, Lady (Y/N),” she says, unable to hide the snarkiness from her voice. 

She wears a beautiful mask, in the shape of golden antlers as a nod to her namesake. Her blue eyes are icy as she looks you up and down, lips curled into a snarl.

“You as well, Lady Cassandra,” you tell her, smiling politely. 

The dance begins and you stay beside her. 

“I would highly advise you to calm your efforts of appealing to Prince Aegon,” Cassandra hisses when she is spun close to you and out of earshot of other lords and ladies. 

“Feeling threatened, Cass?” you tease, meaning it half-heartedly until seeing the furious expression on her face. Then your smile falters. 

“Seven hells, Cassandra,” you whisper as she’s pulled into the opposite direction as the dance demands a partner change. The pounding of the drums echoes in your chest, the wine making your thoughts fuzzy. Your mother was right, unfortunately, you truly should take it slow. 

The dance continues, switching partners, and you arrive in Aemond’s arms. 

He smiles slightly at you, that smile says there is a secret between you. 

“My lady,” he murmurs, delighting in the blush that gathers on your cheeks. 

“Aemond,” you say, not attempting to hide your smile. One hand lays firmly on your waist, the other holds your other hand above your head while you spin. 

“You are a delightful dancer, Lady (Y/N),” Aemond praises, sending a shiver down your spine, “what a shame we have been deprived of your dancing until now.”

You release a giggle as the crowd separates. The guests clap, before changing partners again. A hand snakes around your waist and you turn to face your newest partner. 

You meet the face of Aegon, his face covered with a gold mask. He smiles at you, he always wears that damn smile, so effortlessly beautiful across his face. 

“Hello, beautiful,” he murmurs, hands tightening around your waist. 

“Aegon,” you breathe, causing his smile to grow. 

“I apologize for my rude behavior,” he tells you, leading you into the dance, “I needed to speak to my mother before the feast began.”

He spins you again, and you are lost to another partner. The room itself feels like it is spinning, the air seems to suffocate you. Your eyes cannot track either of the princes, everyone is disguised so beautifully that you feel as though you will be driven mad by it.

Partners switch once more, and you are back in Aemond’s arms. He gazes down at you with a concerned look on his face as the dance continues. Your heart thumps wildly against your ribs, and the effects of the wine cause your skin to tingle. 

“Are you alright?” he asks, placing a hand on your cheek, so like when he kissed you. You lean into his touch. 

“Yes, it’s just-” 

You’re pulled from him again, a stranger before you. You groan, then smile at the new lord apologetically, continuing to dance. The partners switch and Aegon loops a hand around your waist. 

“This is madness,” you tell him, nearly falling against him, earning a chuckle from the prince. 

“I am enjoying the chase,” he teases, grip tightening around you, “perhaps this time I shan’t let you go.”

You giggle at that, face flushed from the dancing. It feels oddly sensual, being spun between the Targaryen princes, and you are enjoying it far more than you care to admit. 

“There is something I need to share with you,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear. Your flesh erupts with goosebumps at the brushing of his lips against you. 

You never understood the desire that ladies often spoke of before your trip to the capital. But the dragons had awoken something that lay asleep deep inside of you, that now was trying to claw its way out. 

The dance ends with you still in Aegon’s arms as the crowd applauds. A new song begins, and the crowd separates into pairs. You sigh, relieved as the gentle music washes over you, a relief from the uproar of the previous song. 

Aegon traces a finger down your neck, following a bead of sweat that travels below the neckline of your dress. He stops before his finger does the same, looking up at you with a smile. Your breathing has turned to pants, your chest heaving against his. You want him.

“I quite like you in this color,” he murmurs, his grin lopsided. Now that you’re closer to him, you can tell he has been indulging himself at the feast. His breath smells of sweet wine, his eyes glassy and red-rimmed. The site is quite enticing if you’re being completely honest, he looks so ruggedly handsome. 

You once felt fearful of tales of the gluttonous dragon prince of King’s Landing, but standing before him now, feeling his hands on you, you want nothing more than for him to drag you down into sin with him.

Your gaze flickers to the movement behind you. Aemond stands, sipping from his cup and leaning against the wall. His violet eye follows you as you move in your dance. Your silent protector. Your heart thrums faster against the walls of your chest as your thoughts tantalize you.

You want him as well.

“My lady?” Aegon calls and draws your attention back to him. 

“There was something you wished to share with me?” you ask, bringing a hand to the back of his neck. He tilts his head back, leaning into your touch. 

“I spoke with my mother,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded as your fingers comb the hair at the back of his neck. You don’t know what’s gotten into you, the boldness of your actions. Your eyes flicker to Aemond, a blush creeping onto your cheeks. 

“I wish to propose a betrothal,” Aegon states and you meet his eyes. Your hand drops from the back of his neck and you begin to pull away. 

You can only imagine the look of utter joy that must be on Cassandra Baratheon’s face at this moment. She truly must be insufferable to be around, beaming about the throne room speaking only of her conquest. 

“Congratulations, my prince,” you tell him, “she shall be a lucky lady indeed.”

Aegon fists your skirts, pulling you back toward him, your bodies flush against one another. 

“Will she?” he purrs, bringing a hand to your waist. You feel your body grow warm as his hands roam your body. 

“Yes, my prince,” you tell him, attempting to extract yourself from his grip, “though this is hardly appropriate-”

“Do that again,” he ignores your pleas, “with my hair, it felt so lovely.”

You raise your eyebrows at him, still attempting to wiggle away.

“Your lady would not like that, my prince, surely-”

“Oh she won’t mind,” he teases, vice-like grip never relenting. 

You give him a desperate look. You have grown up alongside Cassandra, you understand how she operates. Though you are both grown women, you hardly think she would spare you from some sort of unseemly accident. Cass can be very clever, perhaps a poisoned cup of wine or a fall from your horse. 

“Aegon,” you beg, “please, let me go.”

Aegon shakes his head playfully, his teeth biting into his lower lip. 

“Aegon-”

“For a kiss, I shall,” he finally relents, causing your panic to increase.

“Please, not here Aegon, if Cassandra were to see-”

“Cassandra?” he questions, perfect mouth pouting. He scrunches his nose in confusion. 

“Your bride, Aegon,” you hiss, looking about the room. People are paying you no mind, used to Aegon’s antics you suppose. 

Aegon barks out a laugh, tilting his head back. You wet your lips, furious at how relaxed he is. You suppose he has nothing to worry about, it is you who would be murdered after all. Though you had hoped he enjoyed your company enough so as to not risk your very life. 

“Lady Cassandra is not to be my bride,” he tells you. It is your turn to be confused.

“Then who?”

Aegon tears the mask from his head, and you lose your breath at the full sight of his face. He is truly a beautiful man, as all Targaryens are. The blood of Valyria holds more magic than that of dragons. His smile widens. 

“You, Lady (Y/N),” he says, bringing his lips close to your ear. 

The world around you stops spinning as you feel his lips graze the sensitive spot below your ear causing something in your stomach to tighten with desperate need. You bring your hand to his hair once more, reveling in the way he groans against you as your fingers tangle in the strands. 

Your eyes lift, meeting that of Aemond Targaryen. The one-eyed prince continues to watch you, giving you a slight nod when your eyes meet. Aegon’s lips pepper kisses up to your ear, finishing with a whisper. 

“You shall be my bride.” 

note: oh no!! which 😏 one 🥵 ??

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[silkjade]

genshin men as wedding dates

It’s wedding season and you’ve got a large one coming up. But it’s not just any wedding, it’s a family wedding meaning…extended relatives. Are you going to brave the night out on your own or are you rsvping with a plus one?

Featuring— Kaeya, Diluc, Venti, Childe, Zhongli, Xiao, Thoma

gn!reader, modern au, mentions of alcohol, mostly platonic but implied romantic feelings

Part 1 (here) - Part 2 - Part 3

KAEYA

you guys pregame the wedding

he’s cool, he’s charismatic, he’s definitely the hottest person at the entire event (and he knows it)

makes funny little comments about the family with you; flirty banters all day all night

insists on dancing together and will definitely dip you at some point

gossips with the old ladies (i mean he’s not #1 grandson candidate for nothing right) and tells you everything

drawback is he makes you take photos of him all night and will make you take it again until he likes it! and it’s not just fit pics because he’ll be drinking a glass of wine or eating cake and be like

“wait take a candid of me real quick”

the bride overshot the mark and tossed the bouquet way too far and that’s how he ends up catching the bouquet

“oh? guess we’re next” and then he offers the bouquet to you and kisses your hand

clingyyyyy drunk at the end of the night and spills about how nice it was to be included at a family event, and how grateful he is to you for inviting him

please invite him again to your next family gathering

DILUC

congrats you’ve officially gotten the family flex of the century! bragging rights forever!

picks you up in his fancy car. he’s not planning to drink anyway so he’ll take care of you (but pls drink responsibly he just wants to have a nice night out with you)

you get interrogated upon arrival because is that really the wine tycoon diluc ragnvindr???

will excuse the both of you if he notices you’re getting overwhelmed; diluc’s had his fair share of social events so he does this easily without offending anyone for your sake

“ I said I’d take care of you tonight, didn’t I?”

the flower girl asks him for a dance and he does the thing where he lifts her onto his feet and oops now all the kids at the wedding want a turn à la ross from friends

would’ve been stuck there all night but you’re soft for his ‘help me’ face so you whisk him away and he finally gets to dance with you

a week later you get a link with all the photos from that night and there’s a candid of the two of you where you’re laughing and diluc is looking at you with a soft smile and the most lovestruck look in his eyes

VENTI

if it’s a wedding with an open bar..do you really even have to ask??

on the ride there, he keeps saying he’s got something up his sleeve but doesn’t elaborate further, just “ehe”

turns out he snuck his pet lizard dvalin in via his..you guessed it, sleeve. dvalin escapes some time during the ceremony and neither of you notice because you’re busy whispering little jokes and comments to each other

you guys don’t see dvalin again until the reception when an entire table is screaming

he makes up for it by making the most beautiful, poetic toast to the married couple

someone wanted to film a first drink vs last drink tiktok and it goes viral but all the comments are about venti’s segment (he’s at ‘tie around his head’ level messy)

pukes on you in the uber back and passes out. you have to haul his ass home after the driver sticks you with the cleaning bill. he’s here for a good time not for a long time

CHILDE

wants to make a good impression so he insists on you giving him a who’s who rundown presentation a week before the big day. calls it a battle plan

“that’s your misogynistic cousin right? can I punch him?” “yeah but just do it outside”

HAS to win all the wedding games

it’s his dance floor and we’re just dancing on it

your teen cousins all develop a crush on him because they think he’s the fun spontaneous boyfriend of their dreams

you two take forever in the photobooth; you’re doing cute photos, funny photos, using all the props!! even sneaks a kiss on your cheek! puts his copy in the back of his phone case (he has one of those clear ones)

he's great with the kids at the wedding; and seeing him almost seamlessly blend into your family dynamics makes you feel a little….

everyone keeps asking when you two are getting married and he says hopefully soon <3 (but you aren’t even dating?!)

you’re whatevs about catching the bouquet so he gets competitive about it for you

why is he in all the important family photos

gets a personal invite to the next family gathering and has the audacity to ask you to be his plus one

ZHONGLI

he's that one guest who would randomly be an ordained minister if anything happens

drifts to the oldest people at the wedding and exchanges stories but when he mentions he works as a funeral consultant, they think he's just trying to sell them a funeral package

there are disposable cameras scattered around the tables during the reception and he tries so hard to take a selfie with you. after the photos get developed it's just....blurry..or a bunch of photos of the top of your heads..or one of you is cut out of the frame..or -

the photos he takes of you are very cute though! and he took so many! they’re not the best quality but they have the candid blurry aesthetic™ going on

good at formal dances but is otherwise so stiff. hu tao convinced him it’d be a fun idea to throw it back; he’s never been more embarassed in his life

you think it's adorable but your mean cousin makes a comment and you're about to beat their ass for his honor (to be fair you did hear his bones crack but that’s not the point)

brought tupperware for leftovers from the dessert bar. reminds you to take the centerpiece

XIAO

tbh he wouldn’t even consider it unless you two are very close

says no at first but agrees when you say you'll have to ask someone else

"hmm…do you think venti would want to-" "venti? really? you can’t be serious. I’ll go.”

comes off very cold when you introduce him to everyone; he's very respectful (especially to elders) but he just isn't a very social person

mostly sticks to you and just minds his own business sitting at the table all night but he will defend you if he overhears anyone talking smack about you

one dance and that’s it. it’s a slowdance and he’s looking everywhere except at you. help him he’s nervous

the two of you end up leaving the party for some fresh air and take a walk around the gardens outside the venue

you watch the firework show from your spot in the garden as well. his eyes aren’t on the fireworks though

THOMA

arguably one of, if not the best, candidates to meet family

he definitely wants to match with you!!!

his dashing looks and polite, personable charisma are truly a deadly combination

social butterfly! open to chatting with anyone, he’s sharing recipes and knitting tips and talking about how housework is for everyone… the girls, gays, and theys love him

your aunt tries setting him up with your cousin and wait a minute- what’s that feeling bubbling in your chest..it’s not jealousy is it? after all, you and thoma are just friends

if you get different desserts, he’ll hold out his fork to feed you some of his

“mm! you have to try this — it’s so good!”

kind of a bad dancer but that just adds to his charm; also your personal hype man!!

instagram bf material; he’ll take so many photos of you at so many angles! he just wants a few photos of the two of you together, which the photographer happily obliges

at the end of the night, after all the partying, he sneaks a selfie together of you dozing off on his shoulder and makes it his new lockscreen goodbye taroumaru

Thank you for making it to the end! I had to go to a family friend’s wedding recently by myself and it was…an experience. Anyways! What did you guys think? Do you guys want a part 2 with different characters? This is my first time writing and posting headcanons publicly so please be easy on me 🥹

© silkjade — do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform

[kirkenovak]

Obsessed with the idea of 1389-1889 Hob being asked to be Dream’s lover, husband, partner and agreeing but also completely misunderstanding the nature of their relationship.

Hob’s been around the block a couple (hundred) times, he knows what these words mean for a man like him. Men like them. He will be a kept man, a paramour, a secret, maybe a bit more open than not, depending on his Strangers’s social circle and the power he wields, but it’s not like their relationship can be official. What a preposterous idea! Maybe they’ll be able to carve out a little space for themselves where they will be able to be as open as possible. Weirder things have happened (says the immortal to an endless)

It’s possible that The Stranger already has a wife or a female lover and he can only hope they can be civil towards one another. Hopefully The Stranger has some sort of arrangement with her, he’d hate to be a source of awkwardness or some sort of revenge plot.

I’m guessing if Dream revealed his status as a king to 1389 and 1489 Hob, Hob’s train of thought would go something like this: “men can’t get married” “Dream is a king, kings can do whatever they want” “Dream can have a gay marriage, as a treat”.

Further than that things could get a bit more complicated (also 1589 Hob was a happily married man, I think he’d reject Dream, mostly because the 13/1489 Hobs would be attracted and mesmerised by his power, wealth and mystery while 1589 would have both in abundance and he was at this point getting used to the idea of The Guy Who Made Me Immortal just being there).

1689 Hob would probably agree to literally anything Dream would want and would not consider himself worthy of being anything akin to “a lover”, more like a servant with benefits (I have so many feels about 1689 Hob and Avelera’s Giving Sanctuary is blamed for all of them) - scrub the floor, chop the wood, suck my dick, wash the dishes; do well enough and you may sleep on the kitchen floor next to the fire tonight and not in the basement.

Which brings us to the MVP of their interactions - the 1789.

Imagine, if you will, that after fighting lady Constantine and her goons, Dream openly propositions Hob and Hob agrees to go with him. Dream transports them to his ridiculously lavish bedroom (either in the dreaming or somewhere in the waking world) and Hob has a decision to make - he can either start questioning things or take things in stride, get laid, and then question things. He chooses the latter.

However, after they are finished Hob notices that their clothes are neatly folded while he knows they left them rumpled on the floor and there are refreshments available that definitely were not there before. Dream makes an offhand comment that his servants must have come in and sorted it for them while they were busy. Hob has no problem with servants watching them have sex, he’s lived long enough to have been on both sides of this, but he is uneasy with the fact that Dream’s servants had seen him being intimate with a man. With Hob. This unease only grows when Dream offhandedly mentions that they are awful gossips and probably his entire Kingdom now knows that he has a new lover. (This is how Hob finds out that Dream is a King with a kingdom and subjects) Hob is devastated, because the last thing he wanted was for Dream to be ridiculed because of him but now his entire kingdom is aware that Dream has been with a man?

Meanwhile, Dream is literally writing invitations to a 10 day feast he’s planning to throw in the honour of his Lover, Maybe A Husband One Day Who Knows.

Seriously, tho: “Be my husband” “sure! I want nothing more to be able to call you…. wait what are you doing?” “Inviting people to our wedding” “Our what?!”

[obeymesheep]

Husband Energy

Lucifer, Mammon

gn reader!!

OMG SOOO LONG!! hope everyone enjoys this, i am planning on doing all the brothers just on my own time! thank you so much for being patient, it's the end of the semester so i had lots going on, and was also working on this which is much longer than normal!

Lucifer

Lucifer probably bought the ring the day you told him you loved him. It's no small feat getting the demon of pride to fall in love with you, let alone a fall in love with a human.

He kinda sets you up a lil, just a little trick. He has you believe that he's proposing at the restaurant, its very mean, where he gets down on one knee... to tie his shoe, or these long speeches about how much he loves you, and how he never wants you to suffer so that's why... he's paying the bill. When you get home, a little disappointed, you cuddle up with him with a glass of brandy, and confess what you thought tonight was. Lucifer chuckles and pulls out a ring.

"Is this what you wanted love? I apologize for the tricks, but seeing how badly you wanted me to ask was too cute to pass up. I promise you will never spend another night alone, and I will forever hold you in my arms"

Lucifer doesn't let you touch anything!! He is a perfectionist, so apart from the occasional opinion needed he does basically everything! You do have to pull him away from everything just to let him enjoy the fact that you're engaged :(

The wedding is flawless, and goes unblemished by any snot nosed kids, mean and nosy relatives, or clumsy brothers. If you're going more human, everything is draped in pure white, with a classic ceremony, you both also in white, you exchange vows and kiss. However, if you decide to go the demon way and bind your souls together, Diavolo has to officiate, and it hurts a lot, very few people attend, at most it's Mams, Barb, and Simeon, but! a very large reception is thrown afterwards! You're glowing and in bliss throughout the entire party, people come up and congratulate you, with lots of food and drink!

Y'all do not move out of the house, you just can't, his brothers are not equipped for it and Lucifer doesn't want to leave them. However for a couple days after the honeymoon the brothers spilt so you can enjoy your time as a married couple.

You are expected to do most of the housework, and Lucifer prefers when you're at home (assuming we've graduated??? from RAD) instead of some job where he can't guarantee your safety. BUT you're basically excused from dinner duty, you have no obligation to feed anybody, or do any dishes!

You soon come to learn the you and Lucifer already acted like an old married couple, the soft good-morning kisses and the glasses of wine after a long day, but it's also a learning experience for both of you, Lucifer learns to sacrifice time for you, and you learn to trust that Lucifer won't make any life changing decisions without you!!

Mams is super happy for the both of you and is glad your now an in-law! Leviathan is a little jealous that Lucifer got married first. Satan is LIVID when you announce the engagement and feels very betrayed it's takes a while for him to come around... Asmo is very overjoyed about the whole ordeal and is very involved!! Beel is also really happy and is super happy to have you as an in-law!! Belphie feels a little apprehensive about it, none of them have ever been married and feels he is the only one worried about the dynamic :/

Mammon

It's sooo impulsive, i like to think he didn't propose with a ring, with maybe like a sword, or a crown, he is pretty non traditional and wants to pick something that means a lot to him, and it will probably be a treasure brought with them from the celestial realm. Mammon almost proposes a lot, he runs into asmo's room with a sigh "i almost proposed :("

You guys go out to Mams favourite casino, dressed to the nines, and ready to have a drink while Mammon wins some games! At the nights end, Mammon surprises you with a night away at a expensive hotel room. In that moment everything was right, you keeping him company while he smoked on the balcony, he pulled out the treasure.

"I want ya to be mine forever, not Lucifer's, not Levi's, not Asmo, mine! So please, let me make you mine.."

Mammon is such a good haggler and always knows the best vendors. The work load is pretty even, Mams has pretty hard opinions, and wants to help make the day special.

You guys have a demon wedding, when he said he wants to make you his, this is what he meant, to him human weddings are far too temporary, but if it means a lot to you, he will allow you two to also have a ceremony because he does think it's really romantic, at the demon ceremony, Lucifer, Asmo, Luke, Solomon come, and at the reception lots of demons are there, Mammons pretty connected so lots are his guests, though this also means there's lots of presents!

You definitely leave the house, into a smaller one near by, there's lots of tears from the other brothers. You're house is very suited to your tastes, and breakfast visits from the brothers at least happen once a week <3

Mams really falls into the 'wife' roll, his modeling gigs are pretty all over the place, so if you have a more stable schedule, Mammon does lots of the house work, while you cook/plan most meals!!

You and Mammon really fall into a cute routine, Mammons an early riser, so he's doing his skin care and getting dressed while your sleeping, then slipping back beside you to watch you sleep, when you wake up, you go make breakfast, while Mams definitely cuddles you from behind, things like that <3

Lucifer is really proud of how grown up Mammon has become and the partner he chose. Levi is probably not surprised and is only shocked that Mammon finally did it. Satan is touched at the pairing and like Lucifer is proud of Mammon. Asmo is once again through the roof just at the simple fact there will be a wedding. Beel while very happy is a little sad that it means Mammon will move out. While it takes Belphie a little while for the news to really sink in, is only a little salty of your choice in partner.

[apomaro-mellow]

Part One of the Newly Wed Game

A few things happened that evening. 

The first was Steve quickly came to terms that he knew a lot about Eddie. That made sense. They hung out a lot. He knew a lot about Robin too because he cared about her. The difficult part of this was the fact Eddie knew a lot about him. And how warm inside that made him feel.

It was the way after the game, Steve went for seconds on the hot dogs and Eddie handed him the barbecue sauce and relish without a word. Steve only hesitated for a moment.

The second thing that happened was Steve tried to imagine how he’d feel if a girl he was dating knew all those things about him.

The third thing was trying to imagine Eddie as a girl.

But he didn’t need to. The image was already perfect with Eddie as is.

The fourth thing was a talk. After the barbecue, Eddie drove him and Robin back in his van. Robin was dropped off first and that was the first time Steve spoke up the entire ride.

“Can we talk?”

“Yeah”, Eddie answered easily.

He drove them out to a convenience store. Eddie went inside and Steve thought he’d come back with beers or something but Eddie surprised him with Coke flavored slushies.

“Meet me in the back”, Eddie said through the window. He went through the van’s back door while Steve just climbed through the front. Eddie closed one door, leaving the other open to get a breeze from the warm summer night.

Steve started speaking and it felt so disjointed and chaotic and oh god is this what was going on in Robin’s brain all the time? It was like he was vomiting words and by the end of it he expected Eddie to have either the blank face of someone not following or the bewildered look of someone caught in a verbal storm. Instead he looked, almost contemplative.

“Sooooo, lemme get this straight. You think you might be into me, based on what happened in that game?”

He said it so plainly and succinctly and it made Steve feel like an idiot. But he nodded anyway.

“Dude, I think you’re getting your wires crossed. I mean I know I’ve got the curly locks, but it’s Nancy you should be after.”

“If all it took was curly hair to make me fall I’d be dating Dustin!”, Steve shouted. He kicked his legs a little, hanging off the edge of the van. He was feeling restless. This was new territory and he didn’t know what came next.

“The only reason we did all that was so Nancy would see you’re still boyfriend material.”

“Yeah well, we shouldn’t’ve gotten every question right then”, Steve said.

Eddie’s back was against the side of the van, his legs stretched out right behind Steve. “I kinda lost track of the plan.”

“Why’s it so important to you that Nancy and I get back together?”

Eddie smiled a little before looking away. “Because it just makes sense, man. I mean, nothing against Jonathan, but you and her are like....a couple at the end of the world.”

Steve let out a frustrated laugh. “Is that your way of rejecting me?”

“Has this been your way of coming on to me? And I thought you were flirting royalty.” Eddie had seen Steve in action. He was never this timid about it. He always went for what he wanted.

“I never flirt unless I’m sure the other person is into me to.”

Eddie felt his walls getting weaker. Inside of him there was a mini-Eddie screaming to be let out. I’m into you! I’M into YOU! Flirt with me! Fucking do it!

Eddie pushed it down. Steve already had a high school sweetheart with whom to live his picket fence dreams. And those dreams couldn’t happen with him.

“You and Nancy just make sense.”

“Everyone keeps saying that.” Steve tossed his empty cup to the ground and moved, closing the van door, shutting out the sounds of cars going down the street. “It doesn’t make any sense to me at all.”

And then he straddled Eddie’s lap.

“Steve....what are you doing?”

“Hmm”, Steve moved a bit to get comfortable. “Now see, this makes sense to me. It’s just missing...” Steve moved Eddie’s hand, the one currently empty to sit on his hip.

The straw hung limp in his mouth. Was this really happening right now?

“Does this make sense to you?”, Steve asked, his hands against the van walls, caging Eddie in with his body.

And fuck if that didn’t do things to him. Then he remembered witnessing King Steve pull similar moves in the hallway, getting girls to focus solely on him. And fuck if getting the Steve Harrington Special didn’t do things to him. Eddie said the half finished slush down, only half caring if it fell over and put his other hand on Steve’s hip.

He didn’t know if this made sense. In fact, he was pretty sure it was all nonsense. But Eddie wasn’t about to tell Steve to get out of his lap.

“You and Nancy”, Eddie said in a low voice, although it was more of a reminder to himself than to Steve.

Steve didn’t want to hear her name anymore. So he leaned in and kissed Eddie. When he pulled back, Eddie’s eyes were closed but he was still trying to talk.

“You and...you and Nan-”

Steve kissed him again. This time when he pulled back, he watched Eddie take a breath as his eyes fluttered.

“You and-”

“You. Only you Eddie.”

Steve leaned in for a third when someone banged on the van.

“Hey no loitering! You and your broad get a move on!”

Steve grinned. “You’re my broad.”

“Actually, it’s my van and I’m driving. So you’re the broad sweet-cheeks.” And then Eddie gave him a daring squeeze of those cheeks and Steve felt his blood jump.

Years of getting his ass slapped by other jocks didn’t prepare him for this.

----------------

It started as a slow, on the down low thing. For Steve, it was because he was afraid of falling too hard too fast. Of Eddie getting tired of him. Of a devastating dumping. For Eddie, it was because he was waiting for Steve’s experimentation to be over and for him to go back to be the straight boy right out of every father’s dream for their little princess.

They kissed in private but in public the affection showed in other ways. In ways they were both realizing had always been there. Eddie being loud and obnoxious in most places but still knocking politely when coming to Steve’s house. Steve buying more hair spray for himself and throwing some hair ties into the basket as well.

The little things.

This goes on for a month and while it kills Steve to not tell Robin, he himself is not entirely sure what he’d tell her. “Yes I like girls but I also like Eddie. No, not guys. Just Eddie.”

What sense did that make? Steve tried looking at other guys but none of them compared. He tried looking at other girls too with the same result. So maybe he was just attracted to Eddie for the rest of his life. He could deal with that.

What he couldn’t deal with was coming out to Mike Wheeler.

Mike had been tasked with going to Eddie’s trailer to try and finesse some info about the new campaign. He’d lost rock, paper, scissors. Whatever. Mike took this task seriously. So of course, he was gonna scope out the situation. He noticed Steve’s car was parked out front. Mike didn’t know what those two did all the time together. They didn’t share any of the same interests as far as he knew.

He tiptoed around the trailer. The blinds to Eddie’s room were shut. So he went over to the kitchen window. If Eddie was in a good mood, this could be easy. If Steve ruined it by saying something stupid, that made Mike’s job way more difficult. He stood on a milk crate in time to see Steve come into view and go into the fridge.

Eddie came soon after, his hair looking crazier that usually, like he’d been thrashing it around. He hugged Steve from behind and kissed the back of his neck and Mike almost lost his shit.

“I thought you were too tired to move?”, Steve asked.

“Baby I just couldn’t wait. Missed you too much.”

There was more gooey, lovey-dovey stuff which would gross Mike out if he wasn’t already pissed.

“I can’t believe this!”, Mike shouted, grabbing their attention.

“Wheeler...”, Eddie said in a warning tone.

“You guys were cheating at that game!”, he accused. “You rigged it by pretending to not be dating!”

Both let out an exasperated sigh before Mike disappeared from the window.

“I’m telling Nancy!”

“Wheeler!” 

“Mike!”

Tag Team:

@darkwitchoferie 

@archerwithmanybows

@henderdads

@menamesniall

@bornonthesavage

@grtwdsmwhr

@vi-the-best-you-can

@kardinalkalamity

@leather-and-freckles

@resident-gay-bitch

@goodolefashionedloverboi 

@snowstar2368

@alienace

Part three

[books-and-catears]

MC: Hmm I think it should be done by now.

Solomon: Oh you're baking something MC?

MC: No the potion I gave you should be working by now.

Solomon: You told me that was a special tea blend?!!!

MC: Try summoning any of the brothers except Asmodeus.

Solomon: *in disbelief*...but MC I don't have a pact with them-

MC: Just try it won't you?!

Solomon: The Sorceror Solomon commands you, appear before me Avatar of Wrath, Satan!

Satan: *appears holding a book* Oh hello MC, you need something?

Solomon: ....

MC: Try another one!

Solomon: The Sorceror Solomon, commands you, appear before me Avatar of Pride, Lucifer!

Lucifer: *appears holding documents* Ah I was just about to call you MC, I think I'll require your assistance- why is Solomon standing there, looking like he's seen a ghost? Satan, you too?!

Satan: ...Solomon just summoned you.

Lucifer: What.

MC: Solomon summoned you too, Satan.

Lucifer: Again...what.

Solomon: MC, how did you- I think it was impossible-

MC: It is if the pact-master is willing. All my demons are yours for this entire week. Happy birthday, Solomon.

Lucifer: WHAT.

Satan: MC?!!!

MC: Oh come on, you all wanted to do something special for his birthday didn't you?!

Solomon: *on his knees* MC, if you'll allow me, can I ask the demons to plan our wedding?

[eternalsams]

Paint It Black ⇴ J.Seresin

pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader

summary: you didn’t want to get married, you didn’t need a ring to prove your love for your man. But when the circumstances want you to, you’re forced to tie the knot with Jake to stay with him. And you’re scared your soon-to-be-husband won’t agree with your only request.

warnings: none, only pure fluff

word count: 1 147

a/n: english isn’t my mother tongue, please take it into your consideration :)

masterlist

“Baby, you’re sure?” Jake frowns.

“Yes, Jake, I want it like that. But I know you like classic things so if you don’t want to, then we don’t do it. I don’t want you to feel forced to do it.”

“I'm not feeling forced to do anything with you, baby. I just know that this is big, even for us.” He tries to give you a reassuring smile.

“We’re known for doing big.” You give him a quick look.

“Then, let’s go. We’re doing it.”

The wet noise echoes in the room, making you wince.

“Oh my God, we’re doing it.” Jake groans.

The white fabric of your weeding dress drowning in the black dyed water. You drop it entirely into the hot water and takes a metal spoon to stir everything. When you started dating Jake five years ago, you didn’t want to get married, that wasn’t in your plans. Not that you didn’t love Jake, you loved him with your entire being and told him the three little words for your 3 month anniversary. You talked about it with him and first he tried to convince you that eventually you’d change your mind but after a long conversation, he stopped trying and accepted the fact that you didn’t want to get married.

You’ve been happy together for five years, until Admiral Simpson announced you that you had been deployed. In more than five years, you’d stayed at San Diego and it was great. You met lots of friends and, even better, you met the love of your life. Simpson gave you two weeks to pack your things and leave the west coast. When you told Jake about your deployment, he had been silent for multiple minutes and left the room to go to your shared bedroom. You feared he would call it quit and leave you alone after five years together. But he didn’t. He came back with a tiny bag in his hands. He gave it to you and sat down on the couch in front of you, waiting for you to open it. You rapidly looked up at him through your lashes and started undoing the knot. A silver ring fell in the palm of your hand and you looked up at Jake.

“What’s this?” You asked.

“I don’t want to stay away from you. I don’t like distance and I’m pretty sure a long-distance relationship with you will drive me crazy and you’ll have to check me into a mental hospital.”

“Jake...” You stared at the beautiful ring in your hand.

“I know what you think of marriage and I wouldn’t ask you that if there was another solution but-”

“Okay, let’s do it. Let’s get married.” You nodded your head and slipped the ring on your finger.

Jake jumped from the couch to take you in his arms and hold you as close as possible. You couldn’t contain the giggles as he peppered your face with kisses.

“Now the most important question. Since when do you have that ring hidden in our room, Mr Seresin?” You took his face between your hands.

So here you are, watching the water dye the wedding dress your mother got you two days ago. You told Jake about your desire to get married in black and, first, he didn’t agree. He came from a very religious family and when you told him you wanted a black dress, the only thing he saw was a funeral. The wedding was supposed to be white. But you eventually convinced him by showing him gorgeous black wedding dresses on pinterest and he couldn’t wait and see you in yours. Second obstacle; the budget. When you saw how expensive black wedding dresses were, you almost had a heart attack. You could never gather that amount of money when the wedding was in a week. So you decided to get a white one and take the risk to dye it. The wedding was in five days and you couldn’t afford for another dress. Even if Jake told you he would get you ten more dresses if you asked him, you didn’t want him to spent his money because of your mistake.

“And now we wait.” You say as Jake wraps his arm around your shoulders.

Today was the wedding day and you and Jake haven’t told anybody about your dress. You knew your friends wouldn’t care less if your dress was white, black or even rainbow colored. But you knew your and Jake’s families would have a hard time accepting your choice. But it wasn’t their wedding, it was yours. They should be glad you accepted to get married and don’t judge your tastes. So you were in the small room, smoothing the lace parts of your dress. It’s was just beautiful. The black dyeing worked perfectly and even if you had to dip it twice, the results were better than what you had expected. Jake only saw the dress when you got it out of the water the first time, the time it turned out to be more blue-ish than black. You asked him to trust you and he did. He didn’t ask any more questions and trusted you when you told him the second dyeing was perfect.

Phoenix is just behind you and can’t stop taking pictures on her phone to send it to Rooster who’s with Jake. Of course, Bradley doesn’t show the pictures to your fiancé, he only teases him by saying you look more beautiful than ever and Jake swears to God that if his wingman doesn’t shut up, he’s gonna rip his tongue out and make him eat it. Only your close friends and your families have been invited to the wedding due to the early convening and it was clearly enough for the both of you.

When the time of you walking down the aisle finally come, Jake can’t stay still, his feet refuse to stop taping against the tile on the floor of the small church you found. His gaze is locked on his cufflinks and when the music you chose for your entrance starts to play, he immediately looks up at the doors. They open and you appear. More magnificent than ever, just like Bradshaw has said. He is so mesmerized by your beauty that he can’t see your and his families whispering in the rows, either complimenting your dress or finding it completely out of place. But neither of you care about what the others think. How could he ever think black was a funeral color? You look ravishing in your dress and he already know the pictures are going to be unforgettable. You look like one of those characters straight out of a Tim Burton movie. You were his lovely and splendid bride. You reach him and take the hand he hold out to you.

“You look... perfect.” He breathes out with a shy smile.

“Told you it was a good idea.”

“The best idea ever.” He says as he kisses your knuckles.

[moonchildstyles]

l'amoureux

weddings are beautiful, especially in Paris, but as the bride's personal assistant, y/n didn't expect to lose herself in the magic.

wordcount: 11k

—————

"(Y/N), I think I'm going to lose it." 

Taking a deep breath, (Y/N) tried to center herself before turning on her heel to face Priscilla. Finding her boss with the perfectly creamy and embellished bridal veil in hand, she could only imagine what kind of imperfections Priscilla believed she found in the accessory. 

"What happened?" (Y/N) chirped, the feigned pleasantry coming as second nature at this point with how hellish these last nine months have been.

Holding up the veil with the sparkling adornments facing her, Priscilla's hands were shaking. (Y/N) couldn't tell if it was the three cups of coffee she made herself before they'd even left the villa for breakfast or if Priscilla was three seconds away from a legendary tantrum. 

"I think they gave me honey pewter, and not the lavender pewter I asked for when I ordered," Priscilla rushed out, shaking the veil in (Y/N)'s face as if she could see the sparkles better if they were less focused, "Do you see that? That's going to throw off everything I had picked out for my bouquet!" 

"Hold on, let me see," (Y/N) indulged her, grabbing for the delicate veil before her boss could have a chance to rip it to shreds. Angling the crystals to the light, (Y/N) could see some warmth in the jewels, but she remembers specifically making the order for Priscilla and emphasizing how important it was that the crystals lean on the cool tone (it was easier for both (Y/N) and the bridal shop to just do it this way, no matter if Priscilla was difficult during the entire process). There was no way this could have slipped by, especially with the amount of email updates (Y/N) requested for Priscilla throughout the entire making of her veil. 

Pulling out her phone and swiping into her professional email, (Y/N) found the initial conversation with the bridal boutique owner, all the details of the order spelled out plainly before being verified by the owner. Inside the same thread, photos had been sent with very clearly lavender hued jewels stitched to the tulle inbetween the romantic pearls. Examining the photos further, (Y/N) couldn't help but notice that, aside from the crystals and pearls, this veil looked nothing like the photos she had received. 

Priscilla's veil was supposed to have a subtle sheen to the fabric, chosen for the express purpose of emulating the way the Eiffel Tower sparkled at night which was exactly where she wanted to have her bridal shoot the day before the actual wedding. Minimal lace detailing was meant to border the entire hem, matching the delicate bodice of the gown Priscilla planned to wear during the ceremony. The veil in her hand had none of that, something she was surprised her boss hadn't picked up on, but was grateful for nonetheless. 

Peeking over her shoulder, Priscilla was busy with her daughter, Lenore, as the toddler walked her around the room, pointing at every tiara and ivory gown the tiny boutique offered. At least she could count on baby Nora babysitting her mother when (Y/N) couldn't. With her boss distracted, (Y/N) went on her mission to find the salesgirl she'd just had a choppy, half-French, half-English conversation with. 

"Ex-Excuse me?" (Y/N) muttered as quiet as possible before the girl could disappear behind a curtain taking her to the back. 

"Oui?" she chirped, petite blonde brows raised. 

Holding up both the veil and her phone, (Y/N) did her best to remember the two semesters of French she took in high school. "Le... Le voile? It's not... It's non, not right," she struggled through, pulling up the string of photographs of the correct veil on her phone in her other hand, "We need this one." 

She watched as the salesgirl looked back and forth between the photos and the veil in her hand. "Comment tu t'appelles?" 

"Um—its for Priscilla King?" Despite the fact she knew she couldn't butcher Priscilla's name like the French she didn't know, (Y/N) didn't feel confident saying much of anything right now. 

"May I?" the girl asked in accented English, gesturing to the veil in (Y/N)'s hand. 

After offering it up, (Y/N) watched as the salesgirl's eyes immediately dropped to the ticket looped around the comb attached to the veil. It only took a moment for the girl to turn the ticket around, displaying a completely different name on the tag.

They gave her the wrong veil. 

"Je suis vraiment désolé," the girl bubbled off, muttering out something about bringing the right one before holding up one finger and disappearing passed the curtain.

(Y/N) let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. 

Priscilla had been a nightmare as soon as the real wedding planning started a year ago when she found out it was more than just looking at wedding magazines and telling her wedding planner what her budget was (there wasn't one). But, in the last few months especially, she had escalated into a territory that made even her fiancé cower when she was in one of her moods, and Nate was one of the most firm and level-headed guys (Y/N)'d ever met (he really had to be if he was going to be with Priscilla at all). And, unfortunately for (Y/N), since she was Priscilla's full-time personal assistant and part-time nanny, she got the brunt of it all. 

At least with this, she wasn't going to get her head ripped off, unliked when they found out the venue had accidentally ordered one case less of the very specific champagne Priscilla insisted on serving. That had been one that even had Nora asking why her mom's face was turning so red over some bubbly water. 

Stepping towards the case of the something blue's the bridal shop offered, (Y/N) caught Nora's attention first before her mom shot her a panicked glance when she noticed there was no veil in sight. 

"Everything's okay," (Y/N) shot off before her boss could say a thing, "They brought us the wrong veil on accident, but I showed her the pictures and emails, and she's getting yours right now." 

"So, no honey pewter?"

"Nope. And, there's going to be lace trimming." 

"Oh, thank god," Priscilla exasperated, looking much too relieved over this simple of an inconvenience. "(Y/N), I don't know what I would do without you; I'd probably lose my mind." 

(Y/N) refrained from telling her she most likely already did long before (Y/N) entered the picture. Instead, she plastered a smile on her face and hoped they would make it back to the villa in time to take a nap before she would be on Nora duty while Priscilla and Nate had a final meeting with their wedding planner before guests started pouring in tomorrow for the start of the three day long celebration leading up to the actual wedding on Friday. 

"You know I'm always happy to help." 

————— (Y/N) sighed as she stood outside of the banquet hall's bathroom. As soon as the guests started pouring into Paris this morning, she had been on Nora duty while Priscilla and Nate ran around with the wedding planner, leaving her to entertain the toddler for hours. Now, she was left exhausted as she lent against the elaborately carved wall of the hall, watching as the bride and groom welcomed their guests in before a dinner and cocktail hour would be served to kick off the next couple days worth of celebration. 

"Nora, sweetie," (Y/N) called, turning to face the heavy wooden door to the restroom, "do you need help?" It'd been longer than five minutes, which was cause for concern for the easily distracted Nora. 

"No, I'm just wiping!" Nora chirped through the door, much too loud given the echo provided by the looming hallway of the banquet hall. (Honestly, the space was basically a cathedral, as far as (Y/N) was concerned. Stained glass windows were placed high on the intricate walls, tinting the vaulted ceilings in shattered hues. This place was much more than a banquet hall, especially if the deposit for one night was anything to go by). 

The sound of a huffed chuckle came from behind (Y/N), the laugh getting her to instinctively turn on her heel. She had an apology poised on her lips, a reciprocating smile that said "kids, right?", but as soon as she caught who was behind her, she stopped a breath short with her lungs stunted. 

Dressed in a raspberry blazer, gold accents stitched through the seams with curling brown hair held back only by a pair of large sunglasses, was Harry Styles. 

Harry actual Styles. In real life. 

(Y/N) didn't have a chance as soon as she caught sight of that curving smile, dimples and all, as he advanced down the hall to the men's bathroom just to the side of her. She was sure she looked like a guppy with the way she gaped her mouth open as if to say something before snapping it closed. 

Sucking in a deep breath, the air coming in prickles through her throat, she did her best to form a coherent thought. "Sorry, she's just..." (Y/N) breathed out, an absent smile plucking at the corners of her lips as he came closer. He really did have the smallest group of freckles dotted over the bridge of his nose. 

"'S alright, it was funny," he told her, voice deep and rich. It was familiar to her—at least as familiar as a voice could be when only previously heard through a pair of headphones or a speaker. 

With that, he slipped around her. A polite, lopsided smile was on his lips, as he disappeared into the restroom. 

(Y/N) stood in shock, watching at the bathroom door closed heavily behind him, only a flash of the blazer and the flare of his pants seen before he was gone. 

That was Harry Styles. 

What was Harry Styles doing in Paris? What was he doing at this venue in Paris? Priscilla and Nate had rented out the whole space for the entire night, so no one outside of previously RSVP'd wedding guests should be here. 

There was no way he had been invited to the wedding, though, right? Priscilla surely would have mentioned if she knew Harry Styles at all, let alone well enough to invite him to her one-hundred dollar per plate, per course, per person wedding. Right?

(Y/N) even helped her mail out invites and had passed along the final seating chart to the wedding planner, she couldn't have missed a name like his, right? 

Just then, Nora popped out of the bathroom, tiny fingers grabbing for (Y/N)'s hand before (Y/N) had even noticed she was there. 

"I'm ready now," Nora chirped, already tugging (Y/N) back to where the bride and groom were shaking hands and hugging guests, welcoming them into the space. 

Though her brain was still a bit rattled (she had literally been listening to his music just this morning as she got ready and now she was sharing the same air as him), (Y/N) escorted Nora through the fray of guests until they had reached her mom and dad by the entrance. 

"There you are!" Priscilla beamed as soon as she saw her daughter, reaching her arms out to pick Nora up and sit her on her hip. "Got everything taken care of, Nori?" 

"Yeah, now I have room for dinner," Nora smiled, nothing short of proud of her accomplishments in the bathroom. 

Priscilla only laughed along with the guests that were slowly shuffling through the entrance that had caught the exchange, bouncing her daughter on her hip before turning to (Y/N). As soon as she caught sight of her assistant's face, the dark arches of her brows came together in a pinch. 

"Is everything okay, (Y/N)?" she asked, stepping out of line and letting Nate field all of their relatives and friends for a moment. 

(Y/N) floundered as she tried to find her voice, her mouth suddenly dry as the memory of him was brought to the forefront of her mind. "I think... I just saw Harry Styles by the bathrooms." 

"Oh, is he here already? I don't remember saying hi." With Nora hooked over her hip, Priscilla stood on the toes of her heels, eyes scanning over the hall in search of the head of brown curls (Y/N) could probably point out from memory.

"You know him? He's really here for the wedding?" (Y/N) questioned, trying to keep her jaw from dropping. 

"Kind of," she shrugged, dropping her search to match (Y/N)'s wide gaze, "Nate knows him better than I do, but yeah. His firm reps Harry, but they don't see each other too often. It's mostly through his manager, but Harry's always friendly and super kind when he comes in; he's so good at remembering the weirdest things Nate mentions in passing. We decided to invite both of them." 

(Y/N) didn't want to admit that she knew exactly who Harry's manager was and was excited at the thought of Jeff also being in attendance of the wedding. 

"I can't believe you've never told me," (Y/N) gaped, "You've heard me listening to his stuff all the time, and you never said anything. I helped with the seating chart and I didn't even notice his name!" 

A soft smile worked its way onto Priscilla's lips. "I know, I thought that was weird, but I figured you'd find out soon enough. You should talk to him more; he's really nice, (Y/N)." 

"I can't talk to him," (Y/N) immediately shut her down, remembered the way she looked at him like a guppy during the whole two second interaction by the restrooms. A wonderful first impression. 

"Why not?" Priscilla pressed, painting a bright smile over her face when one of her relatives skated passed their conversation.

"He's Harry Styles, I can't talk to him," she reasoned though it sounded silly out loud. That thought was only reaffirmed when Priscilla gave her an arched brow and a quirked smile. 

"Whatever, (Y/N)," Priscilla sighed with affection for her assistant, "We'll be here for a few days, so I doubt you'll be able to avoid him much, but I'm excited to see you try." 

Shaking her head, a short smile tugged on (Y/N)'s lips. "You want to see me suffer." 

"No, I would never," Priscilla waved off, "Nora likes you too much for me to torture you. But I enjoy seeing you torture yourself over silly things like this." 

Before (Y/N) could give any kind of smart remark back, Nate beckoned Priscilla back to the fray, where an elderly couple (Y/N) remembers as Nate's great-aunt and uncle was waiting to greet the bride. Priscilla gave them a wave before turning to (Y/N) one last time, something wicked turning the very corner of her mouth. 

"Have fun." 

With that, she walked back to join her groom, Nora on her hip waving to (Y/N) over her mom's shoulder. 

—————

"This way, this way, s'il vous plaît!" 

Tearing her eyes from the Degas painting hung up high on the gallery wall, (Y/N) followed the guide that was touring their group through the Louvre. With Priscilla, Nate, and Nora spending the day with their families before the craziness of the pre-wedding shoot tomorrow and the big day on Friday, (Y/N) was given somewhat of a day off of all her duties. After forwarding Priscilla everything she might need while filling out some of the marriage paperwork that went along with having an abroad wedding, she was left to either go on the wine tasting at one of the beautiful vineyards outside of Paris, or on a guided tour of the Louvre—both booked and paid for by the bride and groom so their guests can enjoy a taste of Paris as a thank you for spending their special day with them. As much as (Y/N) would have loved to get a little day drunk at a French vineyard, she didn't trust that she wouldn't be on Nora duty later in the evening. Instead, she packed herself onto the shuttles with some of Nate and Pricilla's family and friends that would take them to the art museum. 

Now, almost an hour into the tour, (Y/N) wished there wasn't a guide telling her when to move on from each room and where to go next. Of course each room was teeming with people just as excited to see the classics as she was, but that didn't diminish any of the magic she felt staring at the pieces, a tiny plaque next to them detailing out the title and materials used with a famous artist's name attached. She was currently entranced with the Degas paintings of all the tutu clad ballerinas—dramatic in the value but tender in each stroke—and didn't want to go before she had a chance to get a look at each and pretend she was there in the opera house watching those girls perform. 

But, as she had found during the beginning of the tour, the guide wasn't going to leave without all members of the group with them. He would stand at the threshold of the next room, mega-watt smile on his face as he waved his little orange flag above his head, beckoning the group to come this way, this way! It was easier on everyone if she said her quiet goodbyes to her favorite pieces with a lingering glance and a photo on her phone before joining her group. 

Before she could pout any at the loss of the Degas paintings, the guide directed everyone with a bright smile into the next long hallway. In here, marble statues and sculptures were dotted around the space, standing proud and glimmering in the sunlight filtering through the open windows. The space was otherwise sparse, leaving all attention onto the legendary figures planted across the room. Though she heard the tour guide spouting off facts and details about how important these statues were, how they came to be in the Louvre's possession, and some of the techniques that helped them come to be, (Y/N) didn't hear anything coherent. She was too busy trying to keep her jaw from dropping. 

How could anyone manage—especially with tools that weren't anywhere near as advanced as what was at an artist's disposal now—to make stone appear soft and pliable, full of curves and gentle give? Nothing was as breathtaking as seeing the hand of a sculpted man holding his lover by the thigh, his fingertips denting deep against her flesh, only to be reminded from the glimmer from the sunlight, that this was nothing more than stone manipulated to mimic human skin. 

As soon as she heard the guide announce in his accented English that the group was free to roam around the hall, take photos and explore the pieces, she all but bound away from the group. She made a beeline towards the statue that caught her eye the second they slipped into the room. 

Large, sprawling wings sprouting from Cupid's back almost looked large enough they could graze the ceiling as the marble swooped down in the shape of a muscled arm as he cradled his lover. Pysche was wrapped in nothing more than a sheet, the marble somehow looking thin and delicate like the silk that was meant to be draped over her waist in a cradling hold. Cupid held her gently as he craned his neck, trying to reach her lips and revive her with a kiss as the title of the piece suggested. They were trapped in that one moment, not close enough to share their kiss, but just near enough (Y/N) could see and feel the anticipation shared between the two mythological figures. 

"'S crazy, isn't it?" 

The same deep voice that made her breath catch not more than twenty-four hours prior brought (Y/N) back to the real world in the middle of the museum. Whipping her head to the side, she saw Harry Styles once again sharing the hall with her. 

He wore wide legged jeans with holes over the knees and a faded, vintage looking t-shirt with bunnies graphically printed along the bottom hem. A brown tortoise clip disrupted the flow of the line of rabbits as it was pinned to the bottom as well, bunching the fabric enough to reveal the waistline of his Gucci branded pants. The same large sunglasses she had seen him with last were perched on the top of his head, holding back the iconic brown curls he was known for. 

"What?" she asked, the sound of her blood pumping past her ears having drowned out everything he had to say the second she realized who he was. 

"The sculpture," he smiled, nodding ahead to the marble gods, "'S crazy people can look so real when they're made out of stone like that. Even the blanket she's wearing looks like 's about to float away, even though 'm sure 's easily over a hundred pounds." 

"Oh," she chirped, clearing her gaze with a blink before she turned back to face the sculpture that had captured his attention. Neurons fired in her brain, pushing her to find something to say that wasn't about how much she loved him or oh my god, you're Harry Styles, what are you doing out of my phone screen?! "Y-Yeah, definitely. I've always thought it was interesting the way these people were able to make rocks look so soft. I don't understand how, but I like looking at it." 

A dimple dented his cheek, that much (Y/N) could see from the corner of her eye. His arms crossed over his chest made him appear even broader than photos granted, even as he shifted his weight on long legs that toed at the ground with a hip pushed outwards. "I know what y'mean. I've tried painting something like this a few times, and I can't even get something that's actually soft to look the way this marble does. I don't think 's real; we're not supposed to touch, only because if we do, we'll find out 's all actually made out of sponges or something." 

A smile quirked (Y/N)'s own lips at his joking, a stifled laugh exhaling from her nose so as to not disrupt the quiet that filled the hall. "I think you might be on to something," she told him, exaggeratedly looking around the hall as if trying to spot eavesdroppers, "I'd be careful with that information, if I were you." 

A peek of his white teeth appeared from between his raspberry lips as he nodded to her joke, leaning into the secrecy they were creating over the subject. A short silence fell between them as they resumed looking at the sculpture, (Y/N) peeking at the plaque beside the statue though she couldn't comprehend anything knowing who was standing beside her. 

"You're friends with Nathan and Priscilla, right?" Harry asked, side-stepping into her space though he crooked his head, making it apparent he was looking over her shoulder at the plaque. 

"Yeah, I guess" she mused, impressing herself by how normal she was appearing through this conversation despite the rattling of her heart in her ribcage. "I'm Priscilla's personal assistant, and sometimes nanny for Nora. We're basically family at this point." 

"Oh, so you're (Y/N), then." Harry pulled his attention from the sculpture, looking to her with a bright smile and something like recognition going through his gaze as he trailed his eyes over her face, placing her for the first time. 

"I am, yeah," she smiled back, feeling her skin warm at the fact Harry Styles knew her name and had some idea of her existence. 

"Nathan's mentioned you a few times. Supposedly, y'keep Priscilla's head attached to the rest of her, and keep her from biting off Nate's when she's had a day." She couldn't help but think he sounded almost impressed. If only he knew what it was like to work with Priscilla day in and out, then he really would be impressed. 

"I wouldn't say that...," she trailed off, feeling a little too proud to completely deny the hard work that went into her job. "Nate's very good at calming her down, too. So is Nora. I'm just the first one she goes to with her problems." 

"See? That says it all," he pressed, dimples denting his tanned cheeks, "If y'weren't so good to her, she wouldn't go to you before finding Nathan." 

She liked when he said it like that. It made her feel important, even if she was nothing more than a little speck in Priscilla's grand life. 

"I guess so," she whispered.

Flicking his gaze from the statue back to where she stood beside him, he offered his name in a low voice: "'M Harry, by the way. Realized I never introduced myself even after I creepily guessed your name." 

The loud laugh that bubbled out of her chest had little to do with the joke he tacked on the edge of his introduction, and more to do with the fact Harry Styles had just offered out his name as if she was one of the point-two percent of people in the world who wouldn't already know who he was. He was just as polite as all the twitter threads and articles suggested. 

"Nice to meet you, Harry," she reciprocated, trying her best to keep her face from warming the longer she looked at him. His nose really was just as perfect in person as she'd seen in photos. 

If she looked at him long enough, pretty features on a broad body hidden under soft tufts of clothing, (Y/N) could see him blending in with the perfect statues around them. Fluffed spikes of marble would emulate the curls on the top of his head, hard corners carved from the stone would be the only thing could could accurately display the quiet strength in his form. Even the length of his pink shoelaces wound through his worn Vans could be perfectly carved from small strips of marble. He would blend right in with Cupid himself, only missing a pair of fair wings drawing from his back. 

Before their conversation could go any further, (Y/N) was broken out of her stupor at the sound of the accented English of their gallery guide calling for everyone to reconvene at the other end of the hall. She swore Harry's gaze lingered over her for just one extra moment before he followed her eye towards where that same little flag that was being waved over their guide's head as their group was directed "this way! this way, s'il vous plaît!".

It was an unspoken moment as they fell into step with one another going towards the threshold to whatever was next on the agenda, (Y/N)'s strides much slower as to match Harry's that was lingering despite the length of his legs. 

"Bummer, right?" he offered in a quiet tone as they were still steps behind the last stragglers of their group. 

"Hm?" 

"I was hoping he'd let us stay in here a little while longer. I was having fun," he told her, the curl on his lips just as secret as his muted tone. 

"Maybe he'll let us roam around on our own at the end, and you can come back," she told him, trying to rein in her hammering pulse from the way he seemed to be sharing something secret with her. 

"And, you'll come with me, right?" 

(Y/N) didn't have a hope in the world to stop her rattling heart and stunted lungs at his request. 

"Of course," she said in a pitched tone, heart racing too fast to listen to anything their guide was saying as their group was directed towards the next room, "I wasn't done looking at them, anyway." 

Harry ignored the hooked thumb she threw over her shoulder in the direction of the couple of myths suspended in marble they had spend their time in front of. Instead he had his gaze pinned on hers, seemingly ignoring everything else.

 "Me neither." 

—————

(Y/N) was relieved as she stood behind the line of the camera, watching as Priscilla posed and primped in front of the lens. The Eiffel Tower stood in the background, large and just as romantic as Priscilla had gushed over the second she pitched the idea of a bridal shoot in front of the landmark. With the right editing, the phots were going to look dreamy and worthy of being splayed across bridal magazines for the next decade, at least. 

Plus, when she was busy being pampered over, Priscilla didn't have time to continue the inquisition she had started the second (Y/N) climbed into the taxi that morning. 

Somehow, word had gotten back to Priscilla that Harry Styles and her assistant had spent almost all of the tour of the Louvre together, giggling and whispering over quiet jokes and fonding over the same art pieces. And according to Priscilla, that meant they were in love and had been keeping the secret from her. 

That's why (Y/N) treasured this reprieve behind the scenes, stepping back whenever a makeup artist came by to touch up the powder under her boss's eyes or a hairstylist perfected the waves that rippled her dark hair. She didn't need Priscilla feeding into the crush that was beginning to take ahold of (Y/N)'s heartstrings every time she thought of how she spent her time the day before. 

That is until her name was shouted across the set. A flash of Priscilla's dark hair was all could be scene as she disappeared into the impromptu changing stall that had been set up by the team hired to perfect the shoot. 

(Y/N) sighed before resigning herself to standing outside the stall while Priscilla shouted to her through the sheet, asking for more details of the 'date' she had been on the day before.

"Yes?" she called to her boss once she was on the other side of the familiar stall while Priscilla was helped into her second wedding dress (she had three looks all together that would be shown during the big day, and she wanted to make sure she had wonderful pictures of each of her gowns). 

"Tell me what happened in the sculpture room again," Pricilla demanded, "I want to know exactly what he said. And how he said it. And where he was looking when he said it." 

Remembering the way Harry had stood beside her, admiring Cupid and his love (which she later found ironic considering he had a role acting as his own version of the god) brought a shiver to her heart. The sound of his voice dropping next to her ear was vivid enough in her memory that she couldn't believe Priscilla hadn't already heard it with the way it echoed in her head. 

Still, even with her hammering heart and uneven filling of her lungs, (Y/N) shrugged. "I've already told you everything he said. We talked about the sculpture and then how I knew you and Nate." 

"And that was what had him following you through the rest of the museum?" Her tone was incredulous, (Y/N) not needing to see Priscilla's face to know how scrunched and petulant her features probably were. The spitting image of Nora when she was having a tantrum. 

"I guess so." 

A loud groan could be heard alongside the sound of a zipper lacing together. "C'mon, (Y/N)! Give me something fun!" she called, "It's my wedding week, and this is how you treat me? Not giving me even a little crumb of what it was like flirting with him in the middle of Paris?" 

"That's because we didn't flirt, Pris. We talked about paintings." 

Drawing the curtain aside in a harsh pull, Priscilla was unveiled in her second dress of the day, this one large and tulle filled with sheer panels on the bodice. Despite being dressed like an angel, the grump on her face was the perfect juxtaposition that described her boss. 

"Then why did Nate tell me his cousin saw you two huddled away while everyone else was looking at the Mona Lisa?" 

(Y/N) tried to recall when they had even visited the Mona Lisa, but every memory after the sculpture hall was more focused on Harry than anything else. She couldn't help but see him in every billowing piece of art, abstract or realistic. 

"Oh my god," her boss chirped, features lighting up at something (Y/N) must have missed. 

"What?" (Y/N) asked, about to look over her shoulder. Maybe the Tower had sparkled to life early? 

"You made a face!" Priscilla bubbled, reaching for (Y/N)'s shoulders before giving her a little shake, "That's what I was looking for! You don't even remember seeing the Mona Lisa, do you? You were too distracted by your new boyfriend." 

"He's not my boyfriend—I don't even have his number, or anything." 

"But you were distracted with him, weren't you?" The silence (Y/N) offered was enough to have Priscilla rocketing with glee. "I knew it!" she beamed, clasping her hands together with her manicured nails gleaming in the French sunset, "Are you going to dance with him tomorrow? I can change the seating chart with Adelina and make it so you're seated together for dinner if you want. Oh my god, I cannot wait to tell Nate 'I told him so' when he finds out you're seeing Harry." 

(Y/N) couldn't help but laugh at the miles and miles ahead of herself Priscilla was getting. "I don't think you can tell Nate anything considering the only place I'm 'seeing' Harry is at your wedding tomorrow." 

"Exactly," she cemented, trailing over to where the photographer was calling to his muse to resume her posing, "You should be thanking me for getting you a date to the wedding. So last minute, too." 

Before (Y/N) could offer any kind of retort, Priscilla slipped into the same thing that had earned her her fortune in the first place—modeling. (Y/N) could only stand behind the photographer and the line of lighting equipment, stewing in the heat that reached her cheeks at the idea Pricilla put in her head of dancing with Harry tomorrow at the reception. 

Sure, maybe he would say hi at the ceremony tomorrow, but she couldn't see herself as being more than someone to spend the tour of the Louvre with, to him. Even if the idea of knocking elbows with him on accident while they ate dinner got her heart bubbling with a rush of blood through her body. 

Paris was perfect for dreams, lovely romantic ones especially, but there was no reason to think Harry Styles was going to be anything more than a perfect addition to those dreams. 

—————

"Why aren't you in your white dress?" 

(Y/N) tucked Nora in front of her as staff from the venue rushed passed them through the hall, arms laden with bouquets of flowers Priscilla was sure to through a fit over if she saw they still weren't set up. In front of her, Nora almost tripped over herself as she looked over her shoulder at (Y/N), a fluffy lavender dress on her toddling form.

 "Your mom is the only one who gets to wear white today, remember?" (Y/N) prompted, pulling Nora to walk again at her side with her hand outstretched for the little girl to wrap her palm around her fingers, "She's the one getting married, so she gets the special dress." 

"Oh," Nora sounded, bright blue eyes shuttered by an owlish blink. "When are you getting married, then? Are you going to wear white, too?"

Despite having started coming around just when Nora was getting into her curious phase, non-stop questions flooding from her mouth with little filter, (Y/N) never tired of her prodding. Drawing her into one of the many private rooms attached to the venue where Nate's and Priscilla's families were gathering before joining the main hall before the ceremony, (Y/N) tried to figure out how to explain to the toddler there wasn't a wedding of hers that needed to be worried about.

"I'd have to trick someone into marrying me first before I have those answers for you, sweetie," (Y/N) joked with a soft laugh, a tease that went right over Nora's head as she looked up at her with her Bambi eyes. 

"Why would you trick someone like that?" 

(Y/N) stammered, mouth dropping into a guppy gape as she tried to talk her way out of a bad joke to tell to a toddler. "I—It was..... You're right, Nori," she relented, walking to where the little girl's maternal grandmother was waiting with a bright smile on her face at the sight of her granddaughter, "That would be mean of me." 

"Yeah. My mommy told me you have a boyfriend too, so it would be mean to trick someone else into marrying you when I'm sure he would want to marry you." 

Priscilla was lucky she wasn't here, otherwise she could be getting a glare full of daggers for telling Lenore something as silly as that, especially knowing who Priscilla was telling the toddler was the boyfriend in question. 

Before (Y/N) could say anything to dispute the case, she passed Nora off to her grandma. As she fielded questions about Priscilla's state the morning of the big day, (Y/N) decided she would have to wait on gently scolding her boss until after the ceremony at the very least. 

—————

(Y/N) did her best to keep her tears at bay as she watched Priscilla and Nate exchange vows, Nora sat in her lap with her eyes pinned to her mom and dad finally marrying after hearing about this impending wedding for two years (though (Y/N) was sure she could only really recall the last year's worth of memories with Priscilla running around frantic and Nate following in an apologetic wake). Vials of sand that represented each family member were now swirled together in a jar beside the officiant, symbolizing the union of their entire family through this marriage, one that couldn't be separated. The weather was perfect out in the vineyard Priscilla snagged a year and a half in advance of the date, just warm enough so she could blame the heat covering her skin on the sun and not the lump forming in her throat. 

As hard of a time as she gave Priscilla and the chaos that had filled her work for the last year, her boss was one of the closest people in her life. Seeing Priscilla so happy with someone like Nate—her perfect counterpart—, being married in the most beautiful place, her dream wedding come to life, was enough to have (Y/N)'s eyes sopping with unshed tears. 

Watching them be announced husband and wife, Nora joining them on their descent back down the flower petal studded aisle, (Y/N) finally allowed her tears to fall. Her eyes followed them along with the rest of the guests as the little family disappeared inside the winery. Gentle instrumental music struck up before ushers made their appearance and began herding the guests to the east side of the rustically French building, ivy and lavender sprigs clinging to the siding that would be the backdrop for the cocktail hour that would commence while Priscilla and Nate reveled in the newly married bliss and took a few photos before the reception started. 

These moments were the hardest part about going to family events with Priscilla: the mingling. As familiar as she became with certain figures in her boss's life, it wasn't like these were her family and friends. Her closest friends in this whole ordeal were tucked away in the bridal suite while (Y/N) was left to snack on cucumber sandwiches and tiny flutes of wine, lingering by the side of the winery while pretending to clack away on her phone. Here and there, familiar faces greeted her, chatting about the beautiful ceremony and how cute it was for her to keep ahold of Nora while her parents were busy otherwise. (Y/N) of course thanked everyone, reiterating that the ceremony was very beautiful, yes, Priscilla's dress was gorgeous, wasn't it?, and the menu for dinner sounded better and better the longer they stood out in the Parisian countryside. As soon as the dead air appeared, they would share goodbyes and chat with you later! before heading off to another group of people to share the time with. 

Of course, this was the one hour during the entire week that Priscilla wasn't in dire need of her, leaving her to her own devices as she read the same three emails over and over to busy herself. 

Until, of course, her name was called from one of the small cocktail tables a few feet over, a head of brown curls popping up over the crowd as she searched for her caller. A ringed hand waved to her just as one of Pricilla's college roommates moved out of the way, a giggling whisper shared with whoever it was that was at her side when the woman caught sight of who she was blocking. 

Harry, clad in a creamy white suit (he was very lucky Priscilla hadn't caught him, otherwise that ensemble would have been stained red with wine or something even harder to get out of the fabric) with a bright smile on his face, dimples deep in his cheeks, as he called to her. At his side was Jeffery Azoff, who (Y/N) was almost as excited to see in person as she was when she met Harry himself. He beckoned her to him with a wave of his hand, green nails sparkling in the golden hour sunlight. 

"Hey, you," he greeted her, a grin with his two front bunny-like teeth on display, "Been waiting for m'turn to talk to you since the ceremony ended." 

(Y/N) couldn't contain the smile that spread over her lips at his words, his eyes pinned to her with the full of his attention, the same way everyone always described when meeting Harry Styles. No distraction could pull his attention from someone he deemed worthy of it. "Really?" she asked, hoping he didn't pick up on the dreamy quality of her tone. 

"Yeah, was jus' telling Jeff all about all the fun we had with Jean-Pierre the other day," he teased, the green of his eyes glimmering with inside jokes they had tittered over in the marble halls. 

"He hasn't shut up about it for the past forty-eight hours, actually," Jeff chuffed, mirth in his eyes as he glanced at his friend, sipping from his wine, "I was hoping you could take him off my hands. At least you'd get all the jokes he's telling." 

"I don't know," (Y/N) shrugged, tension releasing from her muscles as she folded her arms over the surface of the table, "I don't get half the jokes he tells, either." 

Feigned offense piqued on Harry's features as he looked between them, mouth dropping open though he couldn't quite erase the slight curl on the corner of his mouth. With the single strand of hair that fell over his forehead, he looked entirely too dreamy in the middle of the French countryside. Once again, (Y/N) found herself grateful over the fact Priscilla hadn't caught him in his ivory ensemble—having a deep red wine stain on his suit would surely ruin the effect.

"Heyyy," he whined, a pouting crease forming between his pinched brows, "That's mean." 

"You've told the same jokes for the entire time I've known you, H," Jeff pressed, a fond smile on his face as he gazed at his friend though he didn't stop his teasing, "and every time you tell them, I still don't get it." 

Before Harry could interject any more pouting, (Y/N) chirped up with a matching quirk to her lips. "Yeah, he did tell the same joke twice at the museum. A little bit of a repeater, he is." 

"Oh, not you, too," Harry whined, dropping his head to be right in her line of sight. His smile was a little too bright, dimples a little too deep, eyes a little too clear to be convincingly offended. "You're supposed to be on m'side, (Y/N)." 

The sound of her name wrapped in his voice was something that echoed in her head for the last forty-eight hours since she'd seen him. "I am, he just has some good points. Sorry, Harry," she told him, speaking low enough as if she was sharing a secret with only Harry. 

Over the swirls of curls on the top of his head, (Y/N) could see the way Jeff was eyeing the interaction before adverting his eyes with a smirk on his lips before they were hidden by a cup of wine. 

"Y'could make it up to me, you know," he murmured to her, his folded hands coming up to smush against his tanned cheek, altering the layout of the soft smattering of freckles on the center of his face. 

"How?" 

"Save a dance for me." 

(Y/N) felt her lashes tickle her brow bone with the way her eyes widened, rounding and softening as she processed his request. She was sure that if someone showed her a recap of this moment, she would look like a moony teenager setting eyes on her crush for the first time. 

Swallowing around her suddenly dry throat, (Y/N) nodded her head. "I-I can do that." 

The way his grin stretched across his lips and the smallest dusting of pink coloring touched at the tip of his nose, could have had (Y/N) on a stretcher if not for the interruption that came in the form of one of the venue's staff tapping on her shoulder. 

"Ms. (Y/N)," the staff member greeted her with a tight smile that did little to sully her accented English, "The new Mrs. Davies is requesting your presence very urgently up in the bridal suite. If you wouldn't mind excusing yourself, I can escort you up right away." 

"Oh," (Y/N) sounded, deflating some at the fact she was going to have to leave Harry so quickly, "Okay, yeah. Give me just a second." 

The staff member gave her a strained smile, but nonetheless took a step back. She felt for the girl, really; Priscilla was a piece of work when she wanted to be and (Y/N) had a feeling she was walking into something gruesome in that bridal suite. 

Turning back to Harry, (Y/N) jerked a half-hearted thumb over her shoulder. "It sounds like I'm needed, so..." 

She trailed off, not wanting to be the one to say bye. Harry seemed to feel the same as he ducked his head, obscuring her view of him with the cover of his hair. "I'll see you later, though, right?" he prompted her once he matched her gaze again, the blushing green peeking through the length of his lashes. 

"Definitely," she cemented, taking the first reluctant step away from the table. Though her eyes lingered on Harry, she made a point to divert her gaze to her new friend of the day. "It was nice to meet you, Jeff." 

"Nice to meet you, too, (Y/N)," he offered politely, a sly smile stitched to his features she had a feeling wasn't going to dissipate. 

With one final wave, (Y/N) was beckoned by the staffmember back to the winery, hasty steps having (Y/N) all but tripping over herself to keep up. Just before slipping through the doorway, she couldn't help but toss a glance over her shoulder, finding Harry with his arms crossed over the cocktail table, grapeleaf-green eyes pinned to her. It took a matching of his gaze and a punch to his shoulder from Jeff before Harry came to his senses. In the waning light, his already golden skin was amplified, but (Y/N) could still see the tint of pink that dotted his cheeks and touched at the tip of his nose.

—————

"Thank you," (Y/N) muttered as she left the kitchen with a lukewarm plate that held her dinner she should have eaten hours ago. 

Trudging through the reception hall, music drifting through the room with the raucous laughter of both tipsy and sober guests clashing against the melody, (Y/N) couldn't decide if her head was going to pop first or if her feet would give out before then. She knew that wearing these heels gifted by Priscilla for her last birthday, red-bottom and all, wasn't going to be the most comfortable and arch-supporting idea, but that had been before she knew she was going to be more of a planner than a guest to this event. 

While Priscilla was spending treasured moments with her husband, both behind the bridal suite doors prior to the reception and in the guest-filled banquet hall, (Y/N) was filling every role she could to help. Fussing over Priscilla was a given, so carting glasses of wine back and forth and directing the photographer on what shots her boss had specially requested be taken was something she had prepared to do. But, it was when Nora was passed off to her during Priscilla and Nate's first dance, and never quite passed back once the toddler started having too much fun at a grown-up's table, that (Y/N) knew she wasn't to have a moment to herself for the rest of the night. Just when she thought she was in for a slight reprieve when dinner was served, something she could enjoy while also taking care of Lenore, Adelina, the wedding planner, had pulled her to the side. (Apparently, there was something awry with the wedding cake, but Priscilla didn't need to know about it if everyone wanted to keep their heads). That was how she ended up passing Nora off to her grandparents and her first course back to the kitchen staff, asking them to keep it warm for her so she could have it later, after she dealt with the tiered spongecake that had melting buttercream and slouching fondant decorations. 

It seemed that one favor she did, signed her up to be Adelina's assistant for the rest of the evening—or at least until everything settled down with only drinks and snacks being enjoyed among the guests. She was kept busy with every minute detail that began to run off the rails, things that didn't need to be shared with Priscilla but were much too important to leave alone. Even the photographer, the ever careful Frenchman who had the fear of God in his eyes every time he looked at Priscilla, had asked for her opinion more than once with (Y/N) practically directing the day's photos by the time ten-thirty rolled around. 

That was something else that tugged her muscles down by the root and threatened to drop her through the floorboards if her exhaustion grew any heavier. One of the perks of this venue—and the hefty deposit Priscilla made on the space—was the lack of clear out time. Wine and food were just the things to persuade guests into lingering on the property, which is exactly what they did, especially when additional courses of finger foods and desserts were brought from the kitchen and the bottles of wine and champagne were endlessly supplied by the vineyard. Looking out onto the dance floor and the semi-full tables surrounding the space, (Y/N) didn't see an end in sight.

But, Nora had been taken back to the hotel and tucked into bed by Nate's parents, leaving at least one responsibility off her plate. The photographer seemed to find his footing the more he realized Priscilla preferred her left-side and would enjoy any photograph of she and Nate kissing. Adelina had calmed down the second most of the traditions of the wedding were filed through—the garter-toss was one of the most nerve-wracking moments for some reason—as guests began reclining and holding separate courts at all the tables and others dotted the dancefloor to indulge in wine-induced dance moves. Priscilla had even settled well as she slow-danced with Nate, especially after changing into her third and final dress for the event, the fringed hem dropping to the mid of her thigh and sparkling under the romantic lighting draped across the rafters. (Y/N) lingered, on-edge, for an extra half-an-hour before finally treating herself with the task of picking up her food from the kitchen and settling in one of the back tables that had been vacated as children's bedtime had approached. 

With a barely filled glass of red wine and a lukewarm plate of pasta in front of her, (Y/N) dared to slip her shoes off under the table before folding her legs underneath herself. 

She didn't even know how long she had been menially scooping up her food, not even tasting the fine ingredients and expensive spices or how well they paired with her given wine, too exhausted to really process much other than finally having some subsistence in her body. That was why she barely noticed the knock of someone's knees against the underside of the table as they slipped into the spot beside her, the gentle voice having to call her name twice before she perked up. 

"Sorry, what did you need he—Oh, Harry," she smiled, pleased to see him when she had been expecting another person that needed her help. 

"Hi," he greeted her, the word coming out breathy and merlot-tinted. That would explain his messy hair and glassy eyes. The flush that tinted his skin looked perfect with his suit.

"Hi," she reciprocated with a small smile, "Have you been enjoying the reception?" She had a feeling she knew the answer to that one.

Nonetheless, the floppy nod Harry gave her, curls skimming his forehead, still made her heart bounce. "A lot," he told her on a breathy laugh, before his expression turned sour with a downturn to his lips, "But, y'said y'would dance with me, and I've barely seen you. Had to dance with Nathan's great-aunt five different times just to feel something." 

(Y/N) choked on the sip of wine she had tossed back while he spoke, clapping her hand over her mouth as she fought to keep from spitting it out. Once she recovered, a choked bunch of air filling her lungs, she shook her head at him. "I'm sure you did feel something," she teased, twirling a meaningless bite of pasta around her fork, "she's practically in love with you. I heard her talking to Priscilla's cousin all about you and how she was somehow going to fit you in her pocket and take you back to the hotel with her." 

"I wouldn't put it past her," Harry started grimly, fully believing Aunt Rosie's besotted threat. 

"And, I wouldn't blame her," (Y/N) muttered, the words falling out before she had any clarity of mind to stop them. 

A brilliant smile woke up Harry's grapejuice softened features. "Really? Want to take me home in your pocket, too, then?" 

Caught, (Y/N) didn't have it in her to pull her eyes from her plate of food though she shrugged in response. "I don't have any pockets, so I'll have to fit you in my tote if that's alright." 

"I can work with that," Harry shot back immediately, sitting up in his chair before scooting closer to (Y/N), folded arms settling on the table. "Do y'have extra room at your hotel, or will I have to sleep on the floor?" 

Her face felt hot as she couldn't help but take his intoxicated flirting right to her heart. "I don't have lots of space, but I'm sure I could figure something out for you." 

He seemed all too pleased with her response, bunny-teeth trapping his bottom lip between his teeth. Unable to draw her gaze away from his mouth, the very middle of the pillows tinted plum from the wine, (Y/N) draped her eyes over the faint freckles dotting the pink skin. Cute. 

"If you're not too busy still, maybe I could redeem m'promised dance once things slow down again?" Harry's voice was only a whisper that hung in the air between them, almost drowned out by the loud laugh that originated somewhere on the dance floor. 

"Yeah, yeah," she rushed out on a breath, hoping Harry wouldn't notice how eager she was to agree incase it was just as embarrassing as it sounded, "I would really like that." 

She would think she would be used to the look of his bright smile by now, with the amount of times she'd been granted the sight throughout this week, but it still threaten to knock the breath out of her to have it directed at her. 

"I'll keep an ear out, then," Harry told her, leaning back in his chair with his gaze going to the dance floor, staying true to his word of keeping watch, "Y'finish eating, though, before someone has a chance to steal y'away again, saying they need help with the music again or something. Barely had a chance to eat tonight." 

A pinch collected between her brows as she canted her head to the side. "How did you know I had to help with the music?" 

Another heart-stopping smile worked its way on Harry's lips though he kept his gaze attached to the dance floor. "I've been paying attention to you all night, (Y/N)."

—————

(Y/N) perked up at the change in tempo that sounded from the front of the banquet hall, a handful of couples still occupying the space while others were retiring to tables as the night drew on. Priscilla and Nate seemed to be in their own world wrapped in each others arms with no sense of time. But, for the first time in the last twenty minutes, their slowdancing finally matched the song that filtered through the speakers. 

Dropping her fourth glass of wine onto the table, the alcohol sloshing dangerously close to the rim as she clumsily stood up. "Harry, Harry, hurry," she bubbled off as she fumbled to put her shoes back on her feet, "We can't miss this one." 

"Miss what?" he asked lamely from where he sat, mouth dropping to a gape as he looked up at her. 

"The song—listen! We missed the last, like, three slow songs I think. We can't leave until I make it up to you for teasing you earlier." 

Harry's memory seemed to come back together at the mention of the song, his ears all but physically perking up for the time since he dropped the ball on his job of keeping an ear out for a suitable song to pull (Y/N) to the floor with. "Oh, yeah," he blinked, standing up with his knees knocking the table in his haste, "Get your shoes on. Hurry."

"I am, I am," (Y/N) badgered him, squishing her toes into the silk covered shoes. 

As soon as she was upright on the stilts of her heels, she grabbed for Harry's hand and tugged him to the dance floor. The other couples made a small space for them to join, even if they were clunky on their feet while others had sobered some through the night. (Y/N) tried to recall everything she remembered about slow dancing with a boy as best she could, middle-school rules coming to mind first as she placed her hands on the broad of his shoulders. A breathy laugh fell from her partner's lips as he tugged her closer, setting a gentle grip on her waist. 

"This alright?" he asked her, looking down at her with glassy eyes though that didn't fog the crystal green of his iris. 

"Yeah, thank you," she peeped, enjoying the press of his rings through her dress. "I should probably tell you I don't know how to do this, so I'm going to step on your feet at least twice." 

Harry didn't seem at all bothered by the shortcomings of his partner, instead dropping his head with a brush of his forehead against hers as he laughed. "I don't even think I'll notice." 

It was with that, Harry started swaying her off-beat, going against the grain of the rhythm the couples around them had curated. Neither of them paid it any mind, (Y/N) honestly not even noticing until she caught sight of Priscilla and Nate twirling out in a completely different flourish than what Harry had her doing.

"I think we're going the wrong way," (Y/N) whispered with a giggle, using her grip on Harry's shoulders to tug him down to her level. 

"Are we?" he beamed at her, not even daring to look around the floor, his eyes pinned her with no sign of removal. 

"Mhm," she hummed, biting back her smile despite the way it still stretched across her cheeks. 

The only movement of his eyes came as they dropped down the planes of her face, charting every dip and curve before settling on her lips for a lingering moment. "Should we change that?" 

"Maybe."

Just like the placing of her feet (though she'd only stepped on his toes once so far, that she knew of), (Y/N) wasn't even aware as she tugged him down with her grip on his shoulders, making his face level with her's for a breath. A skim of the tip of her nose against his was the final touch before she was pressing her lips to his. The wine they had shared from her glass was now sipped from each other's kiss, plummy and warm. (Y/N) drank from his lips as she sealed a kiss against his lips, tipping her head just right to get a little more of him without getting too ahead of herself in the middle of her boss's wedding. 

Harry's hands on her waist was the anchoring touch as they resorted to just soft sways out-of-time with the song picked by the DJ. Warm breaths that were exhaled out of his nose fanned across her skin, with every matching tilt of his head. He didn't want to pull away, that much she knew from the way he clung to her form and the shallowness of his breaths the longer they kissed. 

If not for their location, (Y/N) would have tried to figure out what the wine tasted like from his tongue. Instead, she forced herself to draw back, Harry following after her though he only managed to touch his forehead to hers. 

"My boss is over there, otherwise..." (Y/N) trailed off, her lashes threatening to tangle with his from the proximity. 

Something a little too smug curled at his lips. "Otherwise? I can work with otherwise." 

Just in time, the set changed, turning into something much more uptempo that had Harry dragging her from the dance floor. (Y/N) swore as they passed Priscilla and Nate that her boss gave her a raise of her brow and practically-staged glimmer in her eye. 

The privacy of their little table in the back washed over them as Harry made a point to drag her original seat to sit right beside his, the legs getting crossed over one another. That made it all too easy for him to drape her leg over his knee, just where he settled the warm palm of his hand. Now that the wall was broken, the flirting having opened a gateway with the kiss being the perfect key to get through, Harry didn't hesitate to touch over her skin. 

'When are you leaving Paris?" he asked her, his filter gone along with the boundary they had burned on the dancefloor.

Reorienting herself as she reached for her glass of wine, (Y/N) tried to remember what day it was. "I think I'll be here for another week or something. Pris and Nate want to have some of their honeymoon with Nora before I need to take her home and they can be newlyweds." 

He hummed as he took in her words, his tongue peeking out as he swiped the tip of it along the plush of his now swollen bottom lip. "Then, I'll leave in a week or something, too." 

(Y/N) blanched at his proposition, not quite following where he was going. "What?" 

"Y'won't have Lenore all the time, right?" (Y/N) shook her head. "Maybe those days, I can keep y'company instead. There's a lot of Paris I haven't seen yet, and 'm sure you've been too busy to explore either." 

Though she doubted that Harry Styles—world-touring recording artist who was known to slip away to foreign countries for weeks at a time without being spotted—had anywhere left in Paris to explore with her, the idea appealed to her nonetheless. It wasn't like the Louvre was the only art gallery and this winery the only vineyard. 

"Really?" 

Harry nodded his head with a set in his jaw. He was determined when he was tipsy. "'M sure we'd still see each other back home, but I don't think 'm ready to leave Paris if you're not going as well." 

The implication that he would still reach out to her once they stepped back on home soil, that he was sure they would see each other then no matter what, was enough to have a warmth hitting her features that the wine could only dream of inducing from her. 

"Ye-Yeah," she nodded, her heart bubbling in her chest, "I can let you know when Nora is with her parents and we can meet up. Maybe not tomorrow morning because I think I'm going to be a little hungover and exhausted, but everyday after that. If it's alright." 

The way he leaned across her draped legs, hand cradling the hinge of her jaw, an intoxicating kiss to her lips was enough of an answer. (Y/N) didn't bother to ask again even after he pulled away. 

Priscilla was going to have a field day with this. 

—————

ive had so many feelings and ideas about weddingrry for so long so im super happy I got to get some of them out w this one! thank you sm for reading and sorry for any mistakes! if you have any requests or ideas of your own please send them in!

[yoimix]

genshin men + mutual pining

ft. childe, ayato

playlist. disaster - conan gray ; accidentally in love - counting crows ; love, or the lack thereof - isaac dunbar

note. this has been rotting in my drafts for too long i’m sorry anon :((

[ requested by anon! ; cw: suggestive, alcohol ]

✽ childe thinks of you far too highly to try his usual tactics. he’s known you for more than half his life now, and best friends aren’t exactly cutting it for him. you’re not children in snezhnaya anymore, holding a wedding ceremony for your snowmen or getting yelled at by your mothers to hold hands after a big fight. there are graver stakes now. and people change. when you disagree, childe can’t just laugh it off obnoxiously to see you steam from the ears. when you have a serious fight, he can’t just hold your hand and say sorry till you agree to talk to him. no, he’d get a glare and if he’s lucky, a punch to the gut instead. maybe you’ll even tell him to piss off. you give him no hint of affection, and he’s starving for it. despite the warmth of your skin, your gaze is cold and it sends him into overdrive. perhaps you too believe that romance is forbidden for vassals of the tsaritsa. or maybe he’s plain mistaken, and you’re not his after all. even so, you make his heart pump blood all the way to his fingertips, sparking with electricity. the rush is unmatched when you smile at him. the confession is overdue. spilling it with alcohol on his lips, however, was not his ideal plan.

“(name),” childe slurs, a blissful smile on his face. “just please look at me. oh my, you’re so pretty.”

“ugh, tsaritsa guide me. the stench of alcohol.” you pinch the bridge of your nose. “just because the wine was free didn’t mean you had to glug fifteen glasses of them! what will the qixing think?!”

“that i’m the pride of snezhnaya?” he laughs loudly. “okay, okay, don’t get mad at me. but did you see? i outdrank all of those old fools! ugh, the little lady seemed unimpressed but that hardly matters. who did she think she was anyway? the yuheng?”

“she was.”

“oh.”

he pauses to blink slowly, before turning to you with a boyish grin. it’s horrifying how it makes your heart flutter, and you might as well plunge into the chasm before you admit that. the rain outside the hotel gets louder, and you just want this night to be over with. when morning comes, you can pretend childe didn’t make it look like you’re on a honeymoon to the entire city of liyue and half your subordinates.

“well, at least the crowd loved me.”

“and you’re going to be throwing up all night,” you huff, pulling him up by his shirt before he leans too far and faceplants onto the ground. instead, he takes it as an invitation to wrap his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder. you’re not sure when, in the transition to adulthood, it started bothering you. he’s the last person you should be thinking about like that.

“ah, i love it when you hold me,” he grins with the glee of a kid watching fireworks. “this is so much more comfortable than my coat. how do you always have warm hands?”

“and how do you always manage to embarrass me in the most ridiculous ways?”

he furrows his brows, plush pink lips forming into a pout. “what did i do?”

“what, pretend to profess your love to me in public and crash a dinner party? i get that everyone was drunk and saying stupid shit but you didn’t have to rope me into it!”

“please, it was hardly a serious matter.” he waves his hand dismissively. “a little coworker outing, if you will. it’s a coincidence some qixing officials were having a dinner party.”

“it got so loud we were kicked out of the restaurant.” you might as well be steaming from the ears now. “what do you think the qixing will do if they see snezhnayan diplomats making trouble in liyue? you’re lucky i talked it out with the yuheng but goodness, you made us- you made us look so silly!”

you say it with so much distaste, childe flinches. the blood rushes to your face at the memory of him clinging to you the whole time you tried to explain to keqing that snezhnaya is in fact not up to weird schemes or trying to drown the harbor.

“aww, you had fun too. you were all cute and flustered talking to the qixing girl.”

“that’s because you made us look like a couple, stupid!”

“what’s so bad about that?” he asks quietly.

“oh my god, they think we’re dating.”

“we could be,” he responds softly, a longing sigh following. 

you turn to look at his face, flustered. you can feel his breath against your cheek, his ocean eyes trained on your own. when did he lean so close?

“you’re drunk,” you state bluntly. 

“but the truth is...” he pauses to giggle. “...is still that i love you.”

you gulp. “liar.”

he lets out a dry chuckle, running the pad of his thumb over your lower lip. “don’t say that. i’ll just keep falling.”

“stop it, ajax.” a pang of hurt shoots through your chest, a wistful weed blooming between your ribs. he only wants you when he’s drunk, does he? you should’ve expected no better from mr casual himself.

“i know you think you’re smooth, but you’re taking it too far now.” you take a deep breath, trying not to get too upset. he’s just drunk.

“how far do you think i can take it?” he breathes over your skin, leaned far enough to kiss you if he wanted to, if you wanted to. the flush of his cheeks rivals his oh-so-pink lips, but it’s the vulnerability in his eyes that throws you off. you always thought they were starry like the reflection of the night sky over the ocean. the others, however, describe stormy seas, with no guiding light for miles. 

the consequences to mistaking his feelings is just too catastrophic for you to bear.

“(name), stop.” he comes to a halt abruptly, twisting his wrist from your grip to grab yours instead. you’re suddenly pulled into his chest, a surprised yelp leaving your mouth.

“let’s go home, ajax,” you press, impatient. you didn’t mean to say that, especially when it doesn’t make sense so far from home. you’re just used to saying that when he’s being difficult.

“i am home.” he frowns, gloved hands holding onto both of your wrists. his eyes are pleading, but for what you don’t know. “and did you miss my entire i love you speech or did i imagine saying that?”

“you’re drunk out of your mind and just saying—”

“i’m not. i’ll say it to you in the morning, i’ll say to you tomorrow and the day after and i’ll keep saying it till you just look at me.”

you finally meet his eyes—the intense azure you’ve known all your life begging for you to see him the way he does you. there were better ways to go about this. what did you expect from this walking disaster?

you hold his face between your thumb and forefinger, his cheeks puffing up. he looks too adorable and it’s pissing you off. before you can have any second thoughts, you quickly press your lips against his in a featherlight kiss. pulling back, you can only hold it in for two seconds before the expression on his face makes you burst into laughter.

“do that again,” he mumbles, a dazed smile on his face.

you grant him a quick kiss.

“again.”

kiss.

“and again.”

“you used to say three is the lucky number.”

he pouts. why did you have to fall in love with this manchild?

sighing, you grant him one final kiss, a satisfied sigh parting from his lips. “happy now? it’s time to go to bed, ajax.”

“woah, (name), is that why you wouldn’t kiss me? because you had other plans in the bedroo—”

“no. you’re going straight to sleep.”

he hums, smiling. “i love you.”

“mhm. i can tolerate you.”

“hey.”

“i love you too.”

✽ ayato’s self-restraint is the bane of your existence. he will look at you with his sharp lilac gaze, glance at your lips even, but he will do nothing more than a light touch to your hand or a flick to your forehead on certain occasions. it’s as though he’s aware of the rapid beating of your heart—but he refuses to be anything more than a tease. lately, he’s taken to leaning in closer than before when he pretends to not hear you during your evening walks. is he not aware you can feel his breath? and sometimes, he will place his hand on the small of your back to guide you. does he not know his touches light your skin on fire? honest to god, you hate him beyond measure at this point. when young love grows old, it’s only natural to harbor resentment too. you resent that teasing smile, you resent those playful eyes, you resent the mole by his lips you want to kiss so bad. and just like that, your heart is another piece he’s captured in this game of chess. in a way, though, you understand his roundabout ways of doing things. a man in his position ought to behave. for instance, right now, he shouldn’t be taking your hand outside a social gathering of inazuman elites, and running away like a schoolboy skipping class.

“are you sure you can do this?!” you huff, trying to keep up with ayato. there’s an idle sense of joy to his pace, his posture still elegant.

you, on the other hand, look like you just survived a dumpster fire. disheveled from the running, you finally catch a break once he stops by the torii gates of chinju forest.

“well, wasn’t that fun?” he asks, a smug smile on his face. “archons, the blabbering these men do. half a night and all i heard were complaints about their wives and their boring, unambitious ideas for inazuma.”

you whistle. “i never know how you handle your meetings. each one sounds worse than the last.”

“yes, but i can’t brute force my job like some people do.” he gives you a pointed look. 

you glare at him. “well, some occupations don’t require being a crafty, meddling rascal. you wouldn’t know.”

“i like that about you,” he says, quieter. his gaze is soft, like a field of blooming hyacinths. it catches you off guard. 

“w-well- i- uh i- i have a lot more likeable traits than you give me credit for,” you defend, unable to return his gaze.

“so do i,” he responds, a sly smile playing on his lips. “a lot more than you give me credit for.”

“i never said i didn’t,” you mumble in defeat. 

a firefly beelines for ayato’s shoulder but he gives no care towards it. instead he finally takes out the cup of boba tea from the little bag you’ve been carrying. the proximity of his face when he reaches, however, makes you hold your breath longer than intended. it’s so unfair that he’s this pretty. he smiles when he meets your gaze, taking out the other cup for you.

“you’re so easy to talk to, (name),” he sighs. there goes your poor heart.

you hum, tearing your eyes away from him. you’re hardly thinking as you blabber on. “you- you too. i... i don’t say this often but you... you’re a good person, ayato. i wish i could be with you forever.”

realizing what you said within the next fraction of a second, you straighten up, eyes widened in panic. it’s not the first time you’ve been reduced to a stuttering mess in front of the yashiro commissioner. curse your reckless tongue.

“forever?”

“i- i mean, i want to fall for a guy like you someday,” you laugh awkwardly, smacking his arm. what on teyvat are you saying? you have fallen for a guy like him and it is him. 

ayato presses his lips into a thin smile, eye twitching in annoyance.

“wh-what i mean is, it- it would be nice to be with someone like you,” you try to save and miserably fail.

you might as well get a shovel and start digging your grave right here in the forest. maybe the tanuki will dance over your dead body for entertainment. anything to get out of this situation that you, all by yourself, got into.

slender fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you closer to the source of your misery.

“boba?” 

ayato looks at you expectantly, pressing the straw to your lips.

you nod, fighting the heat growing on your face. he’s too pretty.

“you know, i like it when you say these things to me.”

he’s always been a rude rascal. his smile is cheeky, yet it relieves of you any uncomfortable thoughts like rain on a hot summer day. i want to protect that smile, you thought to yourself once. it’s so rare to see him like this, as just ayato—your friend ayato who taught you to play (and lose) shogi, who gave you his best onikabuto whenever you sulked about yours, who smiled knowingly while you screeched about his awful cooking and showed him the directions again. how many afternoons had you spent with him till he was lost to the rhythm of life? if there really is a god to hear you, you’d pray for ayato to smile like this all the time.

“what do you mean?” you ask softly.

“you said once,” he muses, “that you want me to find someone who likes me for me.”

“i did?” you clear your throat. “i mean, i’d like that too. i- like- isn’t that what everyone wants? to be with someone who likes them as a person?”

“i like you as a person.”

you breathe in too hard, the tapioca pearls caught in your throat as a result. an ugly cough follows till ayato’s patting your back in a concerned motion. you finally spit out the boba, which unfortunately lands in a bush nearby, spooking some foxes.

“oh.” he looks like he’s holding in a laugh. “come now, this is no place to litter.”

“shut up.” you glare at him. “if you didn’t say things so suddenly—erm.”

you’re not sure how to explain yourself. his statement could be taken the wrong way, and you don’t want to be the first one to reveal yourself. if this is a game of shogi after all, you intend to win at least one against him.

“hm? is that what gets you so flustered? a few words from me?”

“you wish,” you huff. 

you feel his warm chuckle against your ear, and the warmth spreads down your neck. you turn to face him, feeling a bit stupid for reacting this way.

“what is it you want to say to me? hm? be honest, now. we're far past playing games, aren't we?"

"i don't know what you're talking about." you feign ignorance, hiding behind your fan.

you take a deep breath, hoping his presence will help you calm yourself. he's such a handful and you know it, but he also makes you feel so alive.

"oh? we can keep playing this game then," he hums, smiling. "you haven't won once against me, you know?"

"th-there's been several times i've beaten you in shogi," you huff.

"by cheating."

"i never cheat!"

“that smile is foul play,” he whispers. there’s barely a gap between your lips and ayato looks like he might just close it.

you feel panic rising. quickly, you press your palm to his mouth, effectively stunning him. it’s honestly cute to see him make this expression.

“we’re friends!” you blurt. “r-right? but god, there are things we can’t do when we’re just friends and you- you just keep testing my patience, ayato!”

a muffled response follows. you take a deep breath and remove your hand.

“it’s like you were going to kiss me,” you complain quietly, embarrassed.

he blinks monotonously. “but i did want to kiss you.”

your face heats up at an alarming rate. “huh? are you supposed to say that out loud?!”

“how else am i supposed to know?”

“know what?”

“if you want to kiss me or not.”

“i always want to kiss y—”

you clasp your hands over your mouth, embarrassed beyond thought. there is no way you said that out loud. the spark in ayato’s eyes only brightens to a more mischievous look.

“you said it yourself,” he says casually, “there are things we can’t do if we’re just friends.”

he takes a step closer. “and i want to do them with you, (name).”

you open your mouth but no response forms.

“so will you please let me kiss you?” he completes, the frustration built over the years finally fizzing out.

“yes,” you say, without thinking, admiring the beauty mark by his lips.

after all, in a sighing forest of promises unkept, who’s to tell of a nobleman’s kisses?

[roosterforme]

A Love You Don't Find Everyday Part 4 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Wedding planning commences, and Bradley takes his frustration of being neglected out on you by getting even in the best way possible. 

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing, edging and smut

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my Masterlist!

You spent the entire day on Saturday with Bradley. You promised him you would be better, and he promised you he would be more understanding about your work, especially right now. As long as you were willing to be open with him about wedding plans. 

"It's only fair. You put up with my deployments like a champ," he told you, placing a kiss on your forehead. 

"How about this?" you asked, pulling Bradley over to the kitchen counter where your computer was charging. "I literally need to send an email about my lodging in Annapolis. We are all staying at the barracks to save money in our project budget, and I need to request a room. After that, we can do some wedding planning together. And then I'm yours until Tuesday morning."

Bradley stood behind you and massaged your shoulders while your computer booted up. "What happened to Monday morning?"

"We are both taking the day off and spending it together with Tramp."

Bradley tickled your neck with his mustache, making you smile as you entered your credentials. "I love you," he whispered. 

You still felt uneasy inside. You hadn't noticed how much you missed him until everything blew up in your face. But now that you were home for more than just enough time to sleep, you could feel your energy levels rising and your happiness growing. And you knew it was a direct result of being around your future husband. 

"I love you, too. Now look at this." You showed him some of your project specs, and he promised to help you work on your presentation in the upcoming days. 

-------------------------

Bradley's heart was swelling with happiness. He talked you into just ordering a pizza for dinner, because the two of you were starting to make headway when it came to wedding planning.

You were sitting on his lap at the dining room table, waiting for the pizza to arrive and jotting things down in a notebook. "I'm going to call my mom tomorrow and see what she thinks about the dresses. I guess I should make an appointment to try some on."

"I can't come with you?" Bradley asked, flashing his puppy eyes at you.

You turned to look at him over your shoulder. "Absolutely not. Maria can come with me. Or Nat. Or Jake. Not you."

"Jake?! Hell no. No," he was shaking his head. He would never let that one fly.

You started laughing. "You don't want me to get a guy's perspective on the dress?"

"Fuck, no. I do not. Especially not him. Take Bob."

You just snorted. "Jake has become my friend. You do realize that, right?"

"He's already seen enough. He saw the calendar photo yesterday! The photo with the red set. My favorite!" Bradley whined. He was entranced by the entire calendar, but that one was his favorite.

"I told you not to hang that thing up," you replied, turning back to the notebook. "So confetti cake? Yes?"

Now he was groaning. "Baby Girl, can't we do lemon?"

You abruptly stood and went into the kitchen, and Bradley tracked your bare legs as you went. You immediately returned with a tupperware container of the leftover cake and shoved a forkful into his mouth. "Get used to it. It's non negotiable."

Bradley chewed it up and sighed. "Fine. What about a venue?"

You shook your head. "I hate them all. They are all either so bland or so pretentious."

"Didn't you used to dream about your wedding day when you were younger?"

You shrugged. "Not really. Honestly? I just figured if I had the right groom with me, everything else would be good too." Bradley watched your hand glide up along his abs to his chest. "Got that part under control already."

He kissed you and pulled you against him with a squeak. "Then let's just go to the courthouse with your parents." Bradley wrapped your necklace chain around his fingers, toying with the charms he had given you back in January. 

You shook your head. "I want something unique, but not fussy. Fun, but not ridiculous."

"Sweetheart, you could have been telling me this stuff all along," Bradley whispered, pulling you closer. "I like all of your ideas so far. Even the cake flavor is fine."

"What do you want?" you asked him. "Other than a retro 80's nightmare."

Bradley was trying not to laugh, but he was so fucking happy to be spending time with you, he let you have this one. "I want an exact replica of Goose and Carole's wedding, right down to the powder blue cumberbunds, and if you won't let me have that, then I won't marry you."

You started cracking up, and the sound filled his heart completely. "Shit, Bradley, you had me at cumberbunds," you told him, kissing his neck. "Yeah, let's do that."

"You're a monster," he growled, sending you into another fit of laughter as someone knocked at the front door. 

"Probably the pizza," you muttered, standing up between his legs. But Bradley immediately stood and pulled his shirt over your head in one smooth movement, leaving you completely naked. 

"Hey!"

He slipped it on himself and gave you an innocent look. "What? I can't answer the door in only my underwear."

You couldn't move as he walked backwards toward the front door with a shrug. If you tried to make a dash to the bedroom, the pizza delivery person would see you, so you just stood still and listened to Bradley pay for dinner and bring it back to you.

He wrapped you in his arms and held you, naked on his lap while you both ate pizza out of the box. He had ordered your favorite toppings, and you listened to him humming a song for you while he pulled two slices apart. 

"Are you humming Fleetwood Mac?" you asked him. "Everywhere?" 

"Yeah," Bradley whispered before starting to sing the chorus. 

"You played that for me at the Hard Deck before. It's one of my favorites. That should be our wedding song."

Bradley dropped his pizza back into the box and wrapped his arms around you. "Yes!" he agreed immediately. "Yes, I love that."

You kissed his cheek and let him cuddle you while the pizza got cold, pleased that you were able to make a decision that made him happy, too. 

When you were finally done eating, you both fed some of your leftover pizza crust to Tramp when he sat and begged. "He really is as bad as you are, Roo."

"Nobody is worse than me when it comes to begging you for something delicious, Baby Girl. Now, will you please come take a bath with me?" he asked as he ran his fingers along your bare sides. 

You moaned softly. "You do not have to beg me for anything, Bradley. I'm sorry if I made you feel like you did." 

He collected you in his arms and carried you to the bathroom, depositing you on the edge of the tub as he got the water ready. 

"Why don't you get in and relax while I clean up the kitchen, and then I'll join you."

Bradley watched you put your hair up in a messy bun and slip into the water. You looked like a dream, and his cock was twitching for you. But he knew exactly what he wanted to do to you. So he adjusted himself and went to clean up the leftover dinner. He grabbed two beers and took them into the bathroom. He stripped down and you scooted forward in the tub so he could sit behind you and stretch out his legs. 

You turned toward him with a smile on your face, and your fingers found his cock easily underneath the copious amount of bubbles. 

"Roo," you whispered, but he reached down to move your hand, and you pouted.

"I have other plans for you, Baby Girl. Those plans will require our bed."

You shivered in his arms with an adorable smile on your face. He wasn't so sure you'd be smiling once he started, but he let you enjoy yourself for the moment. You settled back against his chest, drinking your beer while Bradley teased your skin under the water.

"Are you going to tell me what your other plans are?" you asked softly, looking up at him over your shoulder. He was entranced by your long lashes and the pretty curve of your cheeks. Had been since the moment he first saw you. 

"You want me to show you, Sweetheart?"

"Yes," you hissed in excitement. "Should we dry off?"

"Mmhmm," Bradley hummed, running his knuckles along your breasts as you knelt in front of him. "Dry off and go get in bed, Baby Girl." He watched you grin at him as you ran one of the sunshine yellow towels along your body and dashed into the bedroom. Bradley drained the tub and dried himself off as well. His dick was already hard, and he knew he would be putting himself through hell as well, but he needed to teach you a lesson.

When he found you perched hopefully in the middle of the bed, he stalked over toward you. You were licking your lips now and reaching for him. 

"Lay down," he told you, and your eyes lit up as you eased yourself onto your back. "Good girl."

Bradley took both of your ankles and spread your legs wide so he had plenty of room to work with. You were so pretty like this, needy and flushed for him. He'd wanted you like this for weeks, but you'd given him next to nothing. 

As he settled his body over your smaller one, you reached up and ran your hands through his hair. It felt amazing, and he let his lips touch yours, eliciting a soft sigh from you. As he moved his mouth to trail across your cheek and tease your ear with his mustache, he took your hands off his body. 

"You are my top priority, Baby Girl," he whispered next to your ear. "You know that, right?"

"Yes, Roo. I know," you moaned, running your hands along his shoulders. Once again he removed them, and you turned to look him in the eye, trying to figure out what was wrong.

He held your hands above your head in one of his and kissed your ear. Then he told you, "From now on, I am your top priority as well. I don't come in second or third. Ever again. When I tell you we need to talk about something, we talk about it. When I tell you something is important to me, it's important to you, too. Understand?"  

He pulled his face away from you to watch you answer him. "Yes. I understand," you whispered, your voice breaking on the last word as if you really did understand what was going to happen. 

Bradley let his lips ghost over your soft skin as he took one of your nipples into his mouth. You grunted softly as he pulled the peak between his teeth and swirled his tongue. He bit you softly, making you squeak before soothing you with his soft tongue. 

"That feels good," you told him, and when you reached for him again, he released you with a pop.

"Tuck your hands under the back of your head and don't move them again."

Your eyes went wide, but you did exactly as you were told. Then you nodded at him as he focused his attention on your other breast, giving it the same level of attention, pulling your nipple into his mouth and sucking hard. Your whimpers as he sucked and teased you were making him painfully hard, but he focused on the lesson at hand. 

Bradley eased his body further down yours, nipping and licking you along the way as your breathing got heavier. 

"I'll never hurt you," he promised when he had reached your belly button. "I'll always take care of you. Do you trust me?"

"Yes, of course."

He looked up your body at your already flushed cheeks as he sunk his teeth gently into the soft flesh of your belly. Then he soothed you with his tongue before moving his mouth lower.

"Bradley?" you whispered, but he ignored you. He placed one soft kiss on your pussy before running his index finger through your slit and gently swiping your clit. You were already soaking wet as he meticulously teased you with the tip of one finger. Your little huffy breaths sounded so sexy; he was dying to fuck you. But not yet. 

He slipped his finger inside you, paying close attention to the way your body reacted to him. The arch of your back, the tilt of your hips... he knew them so well. He wrapped his lips around your clit and swirled his tongue back and forth. He felt you trying to clench your legs together, but he pushed them apart, still teasing your hole with just one finger. 

You were getting worked up now, but he could tell you weren't quite to the point where he wanted you to be. So he added a second finger inside you, fucking you slowly with both digits and sucking harder on your clit.

"Oh!" you gasped, your back arching off the bed in response. Now you were getting closer. 

Bradley released your clit and withdrew his fingers, licking them clean while he pushed his cock inside you.

"God," you moaned, and he couldn't help but grunt at how perfect you always felt to him. He pressed his body weight against you, fucking you in a steady rhythm until you were humming and shaking your head, never moving your hands from where you had placed them. 

"Feels so good," you whispered, squeezing your eyes closed.

Bradley braced himself and fucked you a little harder, really making you moan. When he ran his right thumb across your clit, he could feel you squeeze his dick, and he knew he had hit the magic spot. 

He listened to you gasp and watched your legs scramble as he withdrew from you. 

"Want more, Baby Girl?" he asked, holding your thighs wide.

"Yes!" you whined like a spoiled brat. Bradley's first instinct was to fuck you good, take care of you the way you liked best, but he wouldn't do that tonight. Instead he buried his face in your pussy again, licking and sucking until your back arched off the bed.

"Please!" you cried out, but he just shook his head and counted to ten before sucking on your clit until your back left the bed once more.

"No."

--------------------------------

He was punishing you. The level of pleasure you were practically drowning in was addicting, but he wouldn't take you past this point, no matter how hard you ground yourself against his face. 

"Please, please," you gasped, trying again to get him to work you to completion. But when you looked at him he shook his head.

"No." It was the only word he had been saying for what seemed like the past hour. 

And now he was slipping his penis inside you again. You felt so full, so perfect. Yes, he was going to let you come this time. He had to. You could already feel the pressure building. You were so close. You could feel that first squeeze around his cock. 

Then he slowly slid himself out, letting you feel every inch of him along the way. 

"Bradley!" You could feel tears stinging your eyes as he repositioned himself, and a moment later his tongue was lapping along your clit. Heavenly. His mouth was warm and wet and you loved it. But he was overworking you now. He was doing it on purpose. Bringing you so close over and over. Here you were again. You swore you were about to explode on his tongue, but then he removed it, placing kisses along your thigh instead. 

You took a few deep breaths, worked yourself up to begging again, but then his fingers were inside you and his lips were on your clit and his mustache was teasing your pussy, and you knew this time you'd come. 

"No!" you keened when he left you with nothing once more. Your vision was a little blurry now, but you could see him perched between your thighs, his mustache wet. He looked as exhausted as you felt, but just when you could finally breathe easily again, he fucked two fingers inside you. 

"Bradley!" you squealed. So close. So so so close. You just needed ten more seconds. Five more seconds. Nearly. There.

Nothing. He'd given you nothing again. You tried to thrash your legs, but he had a firm grip on your thighs almost immediately. You were dripping wet. You could feel your moisture everywhere along your legs and down to your ass. You were shaking now too, mouth dry and ready to cry. And then he pushed his cock inside you again with four hard pumps before stopping and circling back to your clit with his mouth. 

---------------------------

Bradley watched you cry. He wasn't sure you even knew you were crying, but you were sobbing, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes. 

You were so sweet. You were his Baby Girl. He wanted nothing more than to make you cum for him. But he wasn't going to. Not yet anyway. Not while he still had the ability to keep going. 

It had been nearly an hour, and now he was pouring sweat as he fucked you with his fingers, dragging his mouth across your beautiful tits.

"Please," you gasped, soft hiccups preventing more speech than that. 

"I would love to make you cum, Sweetheart," he growled through clenched teeth. "But I'm not sure you've learned your lesson yet."

You were shaking. You were crying and shaking, gripping your own hair now as your legs quaked. But he just pushed your thighs apart and licked you, soft strokes alternating with a little rub of his mustache. 

"Roo," you pleaded, and he almost crumbled. He'd been gone for you since the first time you called him that. But he never wanted you to hurt him like you did ever again. 

He knelt between your thighs, his dick just inches from your hole as he stroked his fingers across your clit and watched you. Your legs had given out a few minutes ago, and you were no longer arching your back when you were close. You were mewling like a kitten and squirming for him, biting your lip and shivering as you cried. 

"Daddy, please."

He stroked you softly with his thumb and leaned down to kiss your tits. "Oh, oh, oh," you gasped in time with his thumb, and he could feel your hips moving beneath him. 

"Oh, fuck!" you gasped. Bradley could feel it first, and when he looked down to where he was still stroking your clit, you were soaking him and the bed, squirting for him from your perfect pussy. 

"Holy shit," he groaned. He had actually made you squirt. His cock, his hand, and his thighs were covered in it. 

He looked up at your face, flushed and damp and perfect. Mashing his lips to yours, he wrapped his soaked hand around your neck and gave you a light squeeze. "Did you learn your lesson?" he growled.

"Yes," you promised softly through your tears. "Yes."

Bradley released you and buried his face in your pussy, licking up all the wetness and rubbing himself in you. God, you tasted so good. You were laying in a wet spot, still crying for release as he licked your thighs before ramming his cock inside you. He braced his palms on the bed above your shoulders and fucked you with a few sloppy strokes until he was filling you with his cum. 

You looked up at him with trusting eyes, whispering, "Thank you," as he felt you squeeze his already softening cock.

----------------------------

You were vaguely aware that Bradley was scooping you up into his arms. You tried to talk, but you were way too tired. So you just let him hold you.

"I got you, Baby Girl," he whispered. 

"I love you," you told him as he set you down on the couch. He had let you come. He finally let you get off. You opened your eyes as he stroked your hair away from your face. 

"You're such a good girl," he told you, and you smiled. "Relax here while I make the bed, and then we can go to sleep."

"Make the bed?" you asked, a huge yawn causing you to stretch your arms and back. You sat up on the couch and looked up at him, completely naked before you. "Why are you making the bed?"

Bradley's eyes went a little wide and he grinned. "You soaked the bedding, Sweetheart," he told you, running his fingers along your cheek. 

"What do you mean?" you asked, but you could tell what he meant by the way he was looking at you. "I did?"

"Yeah," he replied. He let his fingers trail down your neck. "You squirted all over me. Really earned that orgasm, didn't you?"

Your jaw dropped open. "That's never happened before," you said, your voice raw and harsh.

Bradley froze with his fingers tucked in your hair. "Never?"

You shook your head slowly. 

Bradley was climbing on top of you, guiding you to stretch out on the couch. "I made you squirt for the first time?"

"Yeah," you whispered. His lips found yours in the sweetest kiss as your legs tangled with his. "But you were punishing me."

He peppered kisses all over your face and called you a good girl. "I was," he agreed. "But you learned your lesson. And you gave me a nice little treat, too."

You moaned into his mouth and let him touch you everywhere.

-----------------------------

Bradley led you back into the bedroom on shaky legs so you could see for yourself what you had done to the bed. 

"Oh, God," you groaned, covering your face while he stripped the bedding. 

"Yep! Beautiful, isn't it?" 

And as soon as Bradley had you in the freshly made bed, you snuggled up on his chest and started drifting off to sleep as you asked him, "Are we okay now, Roo?"

He ran his fingers through your hair. "Yes."

-------------------------

Hope you all enjoyed that edging..... thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls for proofreading this for me.

PART 5

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[foreverdolly]

baby butler | dad!austin butler x pregnant!reader

summary: you get pregnant while in australia, your husband still in the process of filming for the elvis biopic. you have yet to make any kind of announcement about the fast approaching birth of your son, so when the paparazzi begin snapping pictures, you panic. austin, being wildly protective of you and his unborn child, does a little more than just put his foot down. | this was a request by an anon as well as @abloversblog and @diva-1992 .

this is a prequel to my fic "baby-bliss", but you can read this as a stand alone !

pairings: dad! austin butler x pregnant! reader

word count: 3,964

warnings/notes: tons of fluff, mentions of covid, austin's elvis accent is thick in this, austin in this fic makes me want to die because he's just so cute, he totally wanted to beat the dog snot out of the photographer, austin is literally so hot in this fic and i can't even explain why.

masterlist | requests are currently closed.

Getting pregnant while both you and your husband were still in Australia for the filming of Elvis wasn’t part of the plan. The two of you were newly weds, and children were always part of the bigger picture for you and Austin, but never so soon. Neither of you had been too surprised when the test had come back positive though. You two had been playing a dangerous game for the better part of two years, and it had finally come back to bite you in the ass. Austin had been more excited than you had been towards the beginning. You knew how long his days on set were, and the last thing you wanted was to go through the motions of it all alone, but after the first few weeks he had constantly proved himself to be a diligent soon-to-be father. He insisted that you visit him whilst on set, just so that he could eat lunch or dinner with you every day. He would have groceries delivered to your house, just so that you didn’t have to go out all alone during the days that hit you a bit harder. Any free time that he had was spent with you. He was absolutely ecstatic. Austin had always been good to you, but he had gone out of his way to show you just how much he cared. 

You didn’t feel alone. Not once. Today was one of Austin’s off days, which was a rarity. He enjoyed spending the time at home, curled up in bed with a good book, his free hand pressed against your pregnant belly, or playing the guitar and asking your opinion on the way he sounded. Today had been a very lazy day, much like all of your other days. You were far enough into your pregnancy where all you wanted to do was sleep or watch television. You had to be careful about being out and about while you were with Austin now that you were showing. The two of you had decided that you didn’t want to announce anything to the public yet, especially since the hype for the upcoming film was at an alltime high. You were used to having your entire life dissected, but this was different. This was your baby, and you didn’t want anything to dull the overwhelming joy the two of you felt. “I just don’t think I’m gettin’ it right.” Austin dropped his hand from the neck of the guitar, pushing his dark locks back agitatedly. You shook your head, struggling to pull yourself up into a sitting position. Austin quickly lurched forward, outstretching his arm so that he could help you, but you were quick to dismiss him with a wave of your hand. “Try it one more time. I think you sound just like him, but you’re the expert, not me.” He rolled his eyes with a smile, shaking his head a few times before he began to play again, starting from the beginning. 

You couldn’t count on both your fingers and toes how many times you’ve heard ‘That’s All Right’ today, let alone over the last few months. Despite the fact that it was repetitive, you never got bored of it. He’d move around the living room like it was your very own private concert, going out of his way to make you smile or swoon. Austin was adorable. You watched him carefully, your eyes flickering between his face, swaying hips, and his fingers as he strummed animatedly. Just as you were about to praise him you felt a sharp pain in your ribs, and movement as the baby shifted. You were quick to wince, sucking in a breath through your teeth. The guitar was on the floor next to the coffee table in the blink of an eye, your husband down on his knees in front of you. “Hey- Hey, pretty girl. You doin’ alright?” He rubbed your arms up and down, helping you scoot towards the edge of the couch. “Yeah. Your son just decided to karate kick me in the ribs.” Austin bit his lip, fighting off a smile as he pointed his finger at your stomach. “Hey!” You let out a small laugh as he playfully glared at your belly. “We talked about this, lil man! Stop beatin’ on your mama!” You shook your head, reaching out to take his hand so that you could press it against the thin fabric of your shirt. His eyes softened as he felt the movement against his palm, watching your stomach with fascination. “He’s a wild one, I’m tellin’ you what.” 

“He likes the sound of your voice.” You loved being able to feel your son’s movement. It reminded you that he was healthy, and while most mother’s you had spoken to liked to complain, you knew that it was something that you would treasure. “Well I guess I can stop practicin’ then. If he thinks his daddy is good enough, then I’ll take it.” Austin’s southern drawl was as thick as ever as he spoke to you, and though it had taken a lot of getting used to, you quite liked it. He knew that too, and enjoyed using it as a way to tease. You certainly weren’t complaining though. “How about we go on a quick walk? Just around the block?” As tired as you felt, you were beginning to feel restless being indoors. There wasn’t much you could do since everybody was on lockdown, but you tried to get fresh air whenever you could. You felt like you were starting to go insane. “Of course. C’mon,” he stood up, reaching both of his hands down for you. You thankfully took them, and he helped to lift you off of the couch. “God, I’m getting huge.” You muttered to yourself, shuffling off to the bedroom so that you could grab a jacket out of the closet. “It’s so cute.” Austin leaned against the doorframe, waiting patiently for you with his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. He had already slipped on his sneakers. “I certainly don’t feel cute.” You turned to look at him, your eyebrow quirking up in disbelief. You felt like you were getting bigger by the day. Your husband, despite your growing size, still couldn’t keep his hands off of you. He seemed to have a newfound appreciation for your body now that you were carrying his child. “Well you sure look it, honey. Before we leave the house, have you taken your-” “Prenatal? Yes.” You interrupted, knowing exactly what he was going to ask. He was a helicopter parent already, and the poor boy wasn’t even born yet. 

People had helped to set certain expectations as far as childbirth went, but no one had prepared you for how you would feel once you hit the seventh month mark. Everything hurt. Your ankles were swollen, your back felt like it might snap in half at any given moment, and you found it hard to do even the simplest tasks. Not that Austin minded helping you with anything and everything. He had been strict about what you could and couldn’t do, going the extra mile to do research on what might put stress on your health. You shrugged on your jacket, your husband breezing past the doorway and into the room so that he could reach down, grabbing your sneakers out of the closet. “You know the drill, little lady. Hand on the shoulder.” You chuckled, happily obeying him. He lifted up your foot as you put your hand down, using his broad shoulder for leverage as he tied up your shoe, then moved to the other side. “What would I do without you?” You cooed, and he instantly recognized your teasing. “Only wear slip ons.” Before you could laugh at his joke he was reaching down, giving your bottom a firm slap before pressing a kiss to your lips. “Let’s blow this joint, yeah? I’m goin’ stir crazy.” You hummed in agreement, following him out the front door. 

The flat that the studio had provided for you and Austin was gorgeous, with tons of natural lighting and enough space to not make it feel so cramped. Even so, being locked up constantly was beginning to take its toll on you. You looked forward to going to the filming locations each day not just to see Austin, but also to get the hell out of the house. Austin tried to pull you in the direction of the elevator, but you quickly denied. “I want to try and get all of my steps in.” Austin knew that you were hardheaded, but you had gotten even worse during your pregnancy. He shook his head in disbelief, but gave in quickly, moving to your other side so that you could grab the railing in one hand, and his arm in the other. It took the two of you a record breaking two minutes to get down the two flights of stairs, and by the end of it you felt like you might just keel over right there. Despite your aching bones you pushed through, practically jogging through the lobby doors. “Fresh air!” You called out excitedly, pumping your left fist in the air as Austin intertwined his fingers with yours. “You’re out here actin’ like I’m holdin’ you hostage or somethin’.” He tugged you gently so that you would be a little closer to him, the two of you walking along the sidewalk. 

He walked on the side closest to traffic, your hands swinging between the two of you. As much as you missed home, you couldn’t deny how beautiful Australia was. You hadn’t gotten many opportunities to do much exploring, but what you had seen was breathtaking. You didn’t get to do much traveling when you were a kid, so you were happy to follow Austin wherever his job took him. He never liked leaving you alone for long periods of time, so he always fought to bring you along with him when he went overseas. “Am I waddling? I feel like I am.” You tried to look down at your feet while you walked, but found it nearly impossible to see over your pregnant belly. “I think it’s adorable.” He purred, raising your entwined hands up to his lips so that he could give your wrist a soft kiss. You groaned, shaking your head back and forth. You found certain changes embarrassing, and the pregnant walk? You hated it. “Two more months. Just two more months, and he’ll be here.” He liked to remind you that you wouldn’t feel like this forever, and thank god for that. You were eager to finally see your son after loving him for so long. Austin felt the exact same way. Though he had mixed feelings about the filming process of the movie finally coming to an end, he was excited to get home so that he could get started on the nursery. He talked about it constantly. You always thought that you would be the one that was crazy about nursery decorations and purchasing baby clothes, but Austin definitely took the cake. When Austin was at work and in between scenes, he was texting you nonstop pictures. From baby carriages to breast pumps that he had done hours of research on, he was relentless. His father had already made multiple trips to your home, and had been nice enough to assemble the crib and changing table. The poor guy had already made one too many trips, taking box after box of items that Austin had purchased into the house. Poor David had sent you a picture just last Thursday, and your living room looked like a UPS storage room.  It was sad that the two of you wouldn’t get to experience the joy of hosting a baby shower, but gifts from your friends and family were constantly pouring in. 

Austin’s grip on your hand tightened for a second, and you were quick to look up at him, trying to gauge why he felt so stiff. He seemed to be staring at something in the distance, and you had to squint your eyes to see just what he was looking at. You were used to people taking pictures or journalists following after the two of you back when you were in California. Thankfully, Australia had been a lot different. Towards the beginning of filming there were some paparazzi every once and a while, but things had died down thanks to Covid. You had almost forgotten what it felt like to have your life intruded upon in such a way, but there they were. Someone driving past must have made a call to a local magazine, that was the only thing you could think of. Austin was quick to turn the both of you around, heading off in the opposite direction so that you could walk back to your house. It wasn’t that you were hiding your pregnancy, but you certainly didn’t want it posted all over god’s green earth. Especially since the two of you hadn’t even said anything about it on social media yet. 

“Fuck off.” Austin spoke under his breath through clenched teeth, dropping your hand so that he could wrap his arm around your shoulder, pulling you tightly into his side in order to shield you a little better. You weren’t sure if the journalists were already taking photos, but you didn’t dare turn around. You walked a little faster, sucking in a breath. “Austin, what do we do?” Your hands fumbled with the front of your jacket, trying to zip it up. Your husband shook his head, a few strands of his dark locks falling into his eyes. “Don’t even bother. You’re seven months along, and that thin jacket ain’t gonna do nothin’ to hide it.” He was right. You could hear loud footsteps behind you, and then your names being called. “Austin! Y/n! Do you mind speaking with us for a few seconds?” Yes. Yes you did. Your blue eyed knight was quick to turn his head. “Now is not a good time, guys.” You two walked a little faster, trying to put more distance between the three of you. You could hear a camera shutter clicking behind you, and you burrowed yourself even deeper into Austin’s side, your hand shaking as you gripped the back of his long sleeved shirt. He hated seeing you nervous like this, especially since you were so far along. You could tell that he was beginning to get uncharacteristically angry, his sharp jaw ticking as he bit hard on the side of his cheek in order to keep his anger in check. He had always been protective, but now that you were carrying his child? He was on top of you at all times. 

“Please? Do you mind? It’s for a one page spread in our magazine about the upcoming movie.” Austin was losing what little patience he had. He didn’t even bother turning around. Instead he just raised his voice a little so that the man could hear him. “I’m goin’ on a press tour soon. You’ll just have to wait until then.” His voice was deep and gruff as he spoke, his annoyance quickly morphing into anger. A few cars began honking, seeing the approaching paparazzi following the two of you, wanting to know what celebrity was out on the streets. If you felt overwhelmed before, now you were practically losing your mind. You were beginning to pant nervously, your chest raising and falling at a rapid pace. Austin noticed right away. “Listen! I was bein’ nice before, but you’re about to see me get real angry if you don’t leave. You’re frightenin’ my wife.” The footsteps stopped for a second, and you and Austin picked up the pace, seeing the complex's gate in the distance. You were only a minute or two away from home. Suddenly one of the journalists was jogging past you, turning around so that he could block your path. The stranger’s eyes widened as he finally noticed your bump, quickly raising his camera and snapping a picture. The flash momentarily blinded you, making you close your eyes tightly and stop in your tracks. Austin lost it. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Get the fuck back! Get back!” He was quick to step in front of you, holding his arms out at his sides to block any more unwanted photos. “You’re not even wearin’ a mask!” Austin was quick to point out, widening his stance so that he could take action if need be. 

“I just wanted to talk to you for a second-” “And I said no! We didn’t consent to it, so why are we even havin’ a conversation right now? I’m so nice to ya’ll, and I never get the same respect back. Just go! We’re both uncomfortable right now.” Your husband was by no means a pushover, but he was a good man. Despite his anger, he was still trying to reason with the man. One thing that you had learned over the years of being with Austin was the fact that the paparazzi had absolutely no boundaries. The juicer the photos, the more money they made. They were vultures. The second that the man took another photo Austin completely blew his lid. “You got it, man! You got the fuckin’ picture, are you happy? You’re stressin’ out my pregnant wife, and god help you if she gets sick ‘cause of it.” Austin reached behind himself, grabbing your arm so that he could begin walking you over to his side. “If you take a step towards her I will see it as a threat.” He warned, his voice shaking as he began pulling you along. The second that the two of you made it through the gate you felt like you could finally breathe. Austin closed it behind himself, visibly relaxing when he heard the lock click into place. 

The downsides of having your hormones raging like crazy was that you cried at the drop of the hat. For once you actually had a reason to cry. Of course you could quickly type something up in order to announce your pregnancy on social media, but you probably didn’t have enough time. The pictures would most likely be circulating within the hour. Austin was quick to pull you into a hug, placing kiss after kiss on the top of your head. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that, darlin’.” He rubbed your back up and down in soothing motions, but his grip on you tightened as your shoulders began shaking with the weight of your cries. “I-I wanted to make the announcement s-special.” He pressed his cheek to the top of your head, rocking you back and forth gently. “Let’s sit together and type somethin’ up. We can both quickly make a post, yeah? Make it short and sweet, that way those bastards don’t break the news before we do.” You knew the kind of life that you would be living with Austin the moment that the two of you started dating. Having your pictures taken wasn’t anything new, but never in your life had you ever felt so violated by the paparazzi before. The man had endangered your life without giving it a second thought. “Y-Yeah. Let’s do that.” You agreed. 

This time the two of you did take the elevator. You had stopped crying at some point, allowing Austin to cup your cheeks delicately in his large hands, giving your cheeks small pecks. Austin had decided to post a picture of one of the sonograms that had been taken at your latest appointments, and you posted the picture that was currently your lockscreen- a picture of Austin with his head lovingly placed on your stomach, his eyes closed and his lips pulled back into a wide grin. Austin handed you his phone before pressing ‘post’, wanting you to read over what he had decided to say. 

The happiness that I feel is immeasurable. The universe has gifted me in more ways than I ever believed was possible. My wife and I wanted to be the first ones to share this beautiful news with the world. We’re excited to meet you, baby Butler. 

It was simple and sweet, just like he wanted. You hit post for him, quickly doing the same for your post as well. Comments poured in like crazy, and the two of you sat on the couch, refreshing google every few minutes just to see if the pictures were up yet. The only articles that you saw were speculations from a few months back as well as gossip magazines that were already posting about you and your husband’s announcements. It took three hours for the photos to finally hit the media. The first picture was of both you and your husband’s backs turned to the camera, then the one that had taken you by surprise. It hurt your heart to see the shocked looks on both of your faces and the way that Austin protectively had his arms tightly wrapped around you. The next picture was of Austin, his face twisted with anger and his arms out wide. You could just barely see your much smaller form behind him, pressed tightly against his back. “Hah! Have you read it yet? These people have absolutely no human decency.” You scrolled down further, your eyes skimming through the horribly written article . It commented on Austin’s abrasive attitude towards the photographer, even going as far as to call him an “overprotective father”. You rolled your eyes, scrolling down to read the comments. You were overwhelmed with how many people were standing up for the two of you. 

“Covid is at an all time high, and you guys are seriously trying to paint this out to be a rude celebrity interaction? This magazine is terrible.” 

“Whether or not his fans are upset that they waited so long to say anything, it’s their choice. The fact that you took pictures of his pregnant wife without her consent is disgusting. Seeing the look on her face in these photos makes me want to cry.” 

“When I was pregnant with my daughter I waited until the last second to even tell family members because I wanted to make sure that I was fully comfortable. The fact that celebrities have their lives torn apart like this is horrible. I hope Y/n’s okay. Sending prayers to the little family.” 

“I hope this photographer gets fired for this! Justice for the Butlers! Paparazzi are vicious!” 

“Fuck this magazine. I just unfollowed all of your social media accounts.” 

Austin tossed his phone down onto the coffee table, scooting over so that he could pull you into his side. “How are you doin’, little mama? Feelin’ better?” You had calmed down the second that the two of you had made your official posts, but knowing that your fans had both of your backs meant the world. You nodded, sniffling softly. “Can we watch a movie or something?” He nodded, quick to stand up to turn on the television and grab the remote. “Since you’re already up, do you mind getting me some water?” “Of course.” He handed you the remote before grabbing the glass you had sitting on the coffee table. “And maybe my bag of chips?” You could hear a cabinet open, then the sound of a plastic bag crinkling. Your nose wrinkled as you smiled. “A-And maybe-” “Fuzzy socks?” You two had been together for so long that it was almost as though you could read each other’s minds. It got scary sometimes. You didn’t even have to answer him. “Already on it.”

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