#or perhaps is weddings the wrong tag??

[kiirotoao]

Hold on. Hold the phone.

Are there no Jopper wedding fics from the POV of Mike or Will?? To let Byler have their dance they never have at the Snow Ball? Excuse me while I fix this conundrum holy shit.

[etfrin]

The Reward — Coriolanus Snow ♡

⇢☾Warning: NSFW | pinv sex, mirror sex-ish if you squint, dub con if you squint, overstimulation if you squint, face riding, creampie, cunnilingus, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), snow is his own warming, dom sub undertones, reader has ear piercings, degradation, hints of a toxic relationship, impact play (spanks your ass a few times), dumbfication if you squint, low-key soft! Snow in the beginning | lmk if I forgot anything!

⇢☾Pairing: young president Coriolanus Snow! x fem! Reader

⇢☾Summary: Coriolanus Snow gives you a reward by being gentle af and then by being a mean animal (kinda) dnsjsk🤭

⇢☾A/N: it's 3:00 am and i need to sleep, i thought about Snow taking off my heels after a gala and this was born <3

< arranged marriage m.list > < tag list > < masterlist >

Coriolanus Snow was a gentleman but he wasn't gentle. Perhaps this was an alternative universe, a fever dream but you couldn't believe what was happening right now in front of your eyes. Your pupils were in shock, your palms were sweating as you continued to take in the sight.

The sight of Snow being on his knees as he unclasps the belts of your uncomfortable heels. You swallow, “Coryo, you don't have to” but his head tilts up and his eyes are still his. Blue, cold, empty, and never ending like the ocean. A calmness washed over you, the look in his eyes proof enough that this was one of his many tricks to keep you satisfied and happy and you have to indulge him in it.

So you let him gently take off your shoes and set them aside. You await his further actions and let out a soft, small moan as his lips pressed to one of your knees. His mouth keeps pressing wet kisses up to your upper thigh, leaving behind a trail of his saliva on your skin.

This was a reward. Coriolanus was so proud of his pretty and smart wife today. You behaved accordingly in the gala tonight, letting him take the credit for your ideas. You understood your duties and that's why this is one of the few times Coryo will ever kneel for or be this gentle. It's a thank you he can't voice so he does it by his actions.

His lips find themselves kissing inside your inner thigh now, gently nipping the skin as you let out needy mewls. He could see the wet spot forming in your panties and felt the usual pride in his mind bloom. Only he could have you wet so easily and damn, if that didn't skyrocket his ego.

He kissed the wet spot, the juices now glistening onto his pink lips and he pulled back. You whimper as he does, and he wants to coo at you and tease you for being a greedy pet. But he doesn't, it's a reward after all.

He stood up and pressed a kiss to your forehead before his hand grabbed the box of make-up wipes. You still hadn't said a word, letting him do his thing. He gently wiped the makeup off your face, clearing you of the chemicals he hated but you had to apply them to stay in fashion.

His fingers then gently take off the earrings you had worn, and then one by one all the rings you had except the wedding ring of course. His touch had lingered during all of those actions, making your body heat up and your panties soaked. Soft sighs escape you as he continues to adore you in such a gentle manner. As if you're made of the most precious diamond but easily breakable without care.

That's what he might have thought of you. So damn important to his sanity but any action of yours can damn him to hell. A risk, a liability to everything he has. But in his mind, you're worth it all and he has done every single scenario where things can go wrong, so many sleepless nights dedicated to these thoughts.

Snow lands on top.

Nothing you can do can mess him up, nothing. He makes sure of it with his every living breath. It's the reason he can spoil you like this, be a deserving man to his wife otherwise Coriolanus Snow is a monster (and you know that and accept him anyway).

He unzips your dress, his lips now pressing a heated kiss to your nape as his fingertips trace your bare skin. His touch was cold as ice, the heat of your body cooling down to his touch. It gave you relief momentarily but it was clear that you wanted more. The whimper that left your mind as he unclasped your bra was enough proof of that.

With your breasts set free from their confines, Corio’s hands begin to knead your soft tits. His eyes look into the mirror as he watches himself message your soft breasts, his fingers pinching your nipples making the sensitive pebbles hard. He rolls the buds, playing with them until you moan, your body flushing with lust in your veins. You begin to rub your thighs, getting desperate for any sort of friction but you force yourself to stop as he tsks near your ear.

“Don't, doll,” he whispered as one of his hands began the journey of going down on your body, the heat of his palm onto your tummy and then so close to your clothed pussy. “Spread,” he commands and you follow without embarrassment or hesitation.

Your soaked panties come into your view through the mirror and you want to look away from the shyness you still had but didn't. Instead, a whine escapes your lips that makes Coriolanus chuckle. “Such a needy pet. I will take care of you, darling. No need to worry.”

You moan as he refers to you as darling for the first time. Your cunt clenching desperately around nothing as your mind gets dizzy. There was something about how he had said it. Soft and warm, his voice dipping a bit lower as he pronounced the letters and it was tinged with a feeling he wouldn't associate himself with.

Love.

You whimper, “Please” and he hushes you as his fingers snap the band of your panties before he dips a single finger onto your wet folds. He smirks, his face looking into the mirror to gaze into your glazed eyes. “Pathetic,” he muttered and you didn't bother to take offense, his words turning you on as much as his finger circling on your clit was.

A broken moan escapes as his fingers decide to pinch the sensitive nub, and he coats his fingers with your juices. A string of sticky white cream on his digits as he takes his hand out of your panties and places his covered fingers inside the wet carven of his mouth. He expertly sucks clean of his fingers, popping them out of his mouth with an obscene sound.

He smirks to himself as he relishes the taste of you. His. Just his you were. He leaves you there, alone on the chair as he walks to the bed. He wasn't wearing anything except for his pants. His suit and shirt were taken off earlier.

You waited for his further command as he got himself comfortable on the bed. “Come here,” he said and you listen. You take off your wet panties and let them stay ruined on the floor as you practically crawl to Coryo. You straddle him and wait some more.

He doesn't say anything, his face blank but his sky-blue eyes heated. His hands were on your hips, his fingers digging into the flesh there, making sure to grip you tight enough to mark you.

His tongue comes out to wet his rather dried lips. Your breath hitches as you see it and the sight of you being so affected by such a simple action made him feel like a. . . Lord.

He doesn't say anything, but did he need to? You knew him all too well, so you don't question yourself as you begin to move. The new position had you gripping the headboard while his hands shamelessly groped your ass, even occasionally giving small sharp slaps onto the flesh, making it red. It was simply another way of marking you.

Meanwhile, your eyes were closed, your mind forgetting about the existence of reality as his hot breath hit your glistening folds and made you quiver. “Go ahead,” he permits you.

Not even a second later, you begin to ride his face. He groans as his lips meet with your cunt. His tongue begins with broad, messy strokes of your pussy, gathering as much as your juices possible. All the while your eyes roll back and you moan. A sharp slap on the flesh of your ass has you grinding yourself onto his face. His nose nudged your sensitive, swollen clit perfectly as his tongue continued to swirl and flick around your cunt with calculated broad strokes that made you whine his name.

Soon his mouth finds your clit and begins to relentlessly suck your bundle of nerves. You cry out, pleading that this is too much and you can't- can't take it! But your begging was unheard and your pleas turned into louder moans, whimpers for pleas, and more. His sucking gets harsher and the overstimulation makes your mind reel. The warmth that was gathering in your lower body begins to spread all over, turning your bones to jelly and your mind to nothing as you cum onto his face. The rolls of your hips slowly as he continues to lap at all the cream released and your pussy keeps on spasming.

Your mind wanted more so you decided to take more. You had understood this was a reward for being good. So you can be a bit bad for now. So despite his grunt of displeasure as you get off his face, you quickly find yourself getting rid of his remaining clothes.

His cock was hard, the red tip angry and gleaming with pre-cum that coated most of his length. The sight had you salivating. Coryo knew you were nothing more than a cockdrunk slut and he called you that, you feel yourself glow from his words, not finding the word even a little bit degrading.

“I love you,” you mumbled as you lowered yourself onto his cock with a wanton moan echoing through the room. He groans, “Fuck yourself good, pet. You're in charge of your pleasure tonight. Go ahead, dove.”

“Yes, Coryo,” you whine as you feel yourself full of his cock. You felt yourself squeezing his thick length, a gasp escaping you as you tried to get used to his cock without being prepped. A groan could be heard as he felt his dick getting squeezed by your wet, tight cunt.

He wants to fuck into you and he almost does. But Coriolanus Snow was a gentleman and a gentleman kept his word. Especially when he can see his wife looking so fucking pretty being fucked out from his cock merely twitching inside her walls.

“Begin,” he demands, his voice haughty and filled with lust but you weren't ready. However, you couldn't bring yourself to care. You begin to rock your hips, slowly at first, you let yourself savor the action of his cock grinding against every hidden pleasure spot inside of your cunt. You moan as your pussy takes his cock deeper until his tip is pressed right against your g-spot making you see stars. You begin to grind back and forth so he keeps hitting that spot, you begin to sweat, your thighs clenching, and you couldn't keep focus as pleasure feels your every vein and his cock making you dumb. Simple actions seemed impossible to you and you wanted to beg him to take over, to make you cum again and again until you were broken.

He was unaware of your turmoil, his eyes onto the sight where his cock meets with your cunt, the combined fluid of his pre-cum and your slick dripping down onto his skin. The sight was filthy and he loved it. He clenched his jaw, trying so hard to be a patient gentleman to his wife.

He treated this like a test against himself because he knew what you did to his self-control. You aren't going to win this, he's not going to let go. He will not fuck into you like an animal, he refused to.

But was it losing when you were out of it like this? As if you were truly nothing but a dumb slut who just needs to cum. He decided that this wasn't a loss, but a win. He was doing you a favor when his hips began to snap upwards, his cock thrusting inside of you faster than the pace you had set. It was a pity that he felt so that's why he went back to his words. He was in control of your pleasure and he always will be. Self-control had nothing to do with it, he told himself.

You scream out in pleasure as several spanks are delivered onto your ass, turning the flesh red. It was clear that you liked the sting because of how tightly your pussy suffocated his dick after each slap. ‘Fucking whore of a wife’, he thought. He doesn't voice his thoughts but merely grins at the sight of tears filling your eyes. His dick twitched, an indication of being close.

However, he had to make you cum on his cock first. His hips begin to rut in faster into you, his hands holding you down as he thrusts in faster and harder. His dick kissing all of your hidden spots you didn't even know existed, his cock was perfect.

All you could do was take and take the reward he was giving you. Tears of satisfaction fell down your cheeks and it nourished his pride. You begin to ramble as you get closer to the edge. You ramble about how perfect he is, how much you love him, and fuck you can't think- you can't think. He is perfect, perfect, perfect.

Each of your praises makes him fuck you harder, deeper, a thrust so deep that his cockhead kissed your cervix making you gasp from a hint of pain and a hundredfold of pleasure. You begin to cum, and he shallowly thrusts into your cunt as you ride out your high. Your pussy spasms continuously around his cock as you cry out from being overwhelmed.

“That's a good girl,” he coos at you, “that's my girl.” You whine, your mind unable to process his words. You couldn't even sit up anymore, your body falling onto his. He wraps his arms around you, caging you to him. “My perfect wife,” he whispered as he continues to fuck into you despite your protests of being too much.

He doesn't listen to your pleas, his reward for you ultimately was his cum. Now he can't stop until he finds release himself, otherwise, how would you get your gift, right?

So he continues and it doesn't take more than a few minutes to fuck his thick, hot load into your womb. You whimper as his cock slips out and sighs in relief. You were in his arms and will be so for the rest of the night.

Coriolanus Snow wondered briefly if you liked your reward if not, well you have full access to his credit cards.

Current tag list: @stelleduarte @nowitsmissing @lifeonawhim @le-lena @dollfacedalls @motley-baby @champomiel @slytherinholland @randomstuff2040 @justacaliforniandreamer @emmalinemalfoy @hyuk4s @theamuz @watercolorskyy @littlebiwitchsworld @eir964

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@sushirolliee @poppyflower-22 @dilucpegg3r

[cheapshrimpysheep]

You Will Stop the Wedding! - Azul Ashengrotto

SUMMARY: YOU were the one being kidnapped by Princess Eliza to marry her. How would he react and how would he save you? With the aggravation of he already having a crush on you.

CHARACTERS: Azul Ashengrotto x Reader

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Declaration

WORD COUNT: 1.110 words

Riddle Rosehearts / Leona Kingscholar / Azul Ashengrotto / Jamil Viper / Vil Schoenheit / Idia Shroud / Malleus Draconia

Rescuing You - Deuce Spade; Jack Howl; Floyd Leech; Kalim Al-Asim

COMMENTS: What have I done? Why did I commit to writing this? And why did I write so much? Why was I so inspired? There were seven of them! Why do I do this to myself? So yeah, this took me a long time. But I hope it was worth it, for me and for you.

CONTEXT: Someone was kidnapped to marry some ghost princess and might end up turning into a ghost too. And he just found out that someone was you.

Azul had already offered to help if he had something in return. So when he heard your name, he managed to cover up his concern with that excuse.

When rescue groups are formed, he asks to be in the last one. He first needs to analyse the behaviour of the ghosts to try to figure out the best approach. He is extremely cautious, so he needs all the information he can get first. After all, it's your life that's at risk and he doesn't like to leave things to chance, especially something like this.

When it's the last group's turn, whenever someone needs to stay behind to tie up the ghosts, Azul asks one of the others to do so. And when they ask him why he doesn't stay behind, he starts bargain and trying to make deals with them. He manages to be the only one to reach the ceremony hall.

He followed the plan. He analysed the other teams' data and came up with the perfect approach by the ghost's standards. He even managed to reach her with a bouquet of roses in perfect condition.

He is a man of words, of many words, perhaps even too many words. At a certain point the princess asked him to stop talking. She says everything he says is very flattering. And you even recognize that way of speaking, it's very similar to the way he speaks to potential valuable clients. And perhaps because of that, the princess had realized that it was not sincere.

She was about to rejection-slap him when he asked for one last chance because he had a song to sing for her. She decides to give him this last chance because she was curious.

Surprisingly, there was a piano in the ceremony hall. He sat down, placed his fingers on the keys and began to play. It had a clear, bright, and uplifting sound. He really was talented at the piano. He started to sing, a love song, of course. However, more than in speech, it is in singing that his lack of sincerity would be even more easily captured. The song was a clarion love song, about strong feelings of love, joy, and hope. And the others could tell he didn't genuinely believe in what he was singing. He realized this too. That was his last chance.

Then, when the guards were preparing to take him away from the piano, he subtly changed the melody. And his own way of singing too, now it was starting to sound sincere. It got slightly sadder and in the lyrics he admitted he didn't believe what he had sung until that moment. That he never understood those songs, but that he always hoped that one day he would. And then he met “you”. He was singing in second person. The song talked about how the two of "you" had started off on the wrong foot, but that didn't stop "you" two from overcoming it. That didn't stop "you" from seeing something worthy in him, and from giving him a second chance. And it ends on a note of hope despite the uncertainty.

When he finished, the princess and some of the guards were crying emotionally. She starts to say how beautiful that song was, and he turns back to her, as if he had woken up, as if while he was playing he had forgotten what was around him. But he quickly regained his composure, and he went back to his act.

And one of the guards notices this. The guard who is in love with the princess. And he accuses Azul that that song wasn't for the princess. She starts to defend Azul, and this almost makes the guard take back what he said. But he said that Azul should prove it by saying some of those words looking directly into the princess's eyes. You, because you know him, noticed that Azul was slightly apprehensive, but accepted with a charismatic smile.

He went in front of the princess, took her hands, looked into her eyes and said one or two of the phrases from the song. And the tone was completely different from what he sang. Proving that music really wasn't for her. Shocked, she slapped Azul. But... he was still able to move.

Everyone gasps, including the princess. When the guards ask what's going on, the princess says it can only mean one thing. The thing is that her slap is capable of petrifying anyone, except those who have already found their true love. The reaction from all NRC students is like "What the F-?!" And Azul’s reaction was blushing, as if he had been caught.

The princess became even more depressed about that. His song was actually true, but it was for someone else. She starts to feel sorry for herself and that's when the guard starts to consulate her. Saying that she also has someone who feels that way about her: Him. And that whole ending of the princess realizing that she loved him too happens, they get married and happily ever after.

After everything and while the first-years were getting ready to tidy up and clean the cafeteria, you asked Azul to wait a bit. You leave the room so you can talk alone. You tell him that song was very beautiful and ask him who it was for. After all, that slap thing revealed that it was true and for someone. He blushes a little and acts like he's admitting something, reluctantly.

“I know I made the song more ambiguous so the princess would think I was singing about her, but I know you are more insightful than this.” You wonder out loud if he was singing about money or Mostro Lounge. “Wha-?! Who do you take me for?” He wasn't acting offended, he genuinely seemed a little offended. “Do you really think I would love money as much as I love you?” and then, realizing what he had just said, he shuts up. And blushes even more. “N-No, w-wait, I...”

You laugh. He says, extremely embarrassed: “I just saved you, don't laugh at me like that!” You explain that you're not laughing at him, but more at the situation. You say that the way he spoke, in the heat of the moment, only revealed how truthful he was. And it was cute that he declared himself like that.

If you also tell him that you feel the same way about him, how you loved the song, eventually you will have to prove it with a kiss.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[bucknastysbabe]

Rating: Explict

Tags: ANGSTFEST, infidelity, Baratheon!reader, Targaryens always have a seat in the cuck chair, Sorry Aem you'll get big titty goth gf soon not big titty disloyal gf, pregnancy sex, WHO IS THE FATHER?, Criston’s delulu and the biggest baby in the world, tiddy sucking, lap riding, the chain and short hair is sexy, pnv!sex, crispy cremepie, crying, sad ending :(

Song in title - ‘Days Go By’, Sean Nicholas Savage

Taglist: @arcielee @aemonds-holy-milk @bambitas @elaratyrell @jamespotterismydaddy @lovelykhaleesiii @peachysunrize @starogeorgina @sugarpoppss2 @towriteloveontheirarms @zaldritzosrose

“Was it worth it?”

Criston frowned. He thought you looked at home astride his lap. Your ringed fingers ran across the chilly golden hands clasped around his neck. He shivered— as if the sigil of his station were attached to his body. Everything felt wrong in this quiet moment.

Aegon was nearly dead and forced through one dreamless poppy sleep after another. The maesters were not sure he could survive the Dragonfire. The Green army made a clear statement and killed a formidable foe at Rook’s Rest. Aemond took on the title of Prince Regent, living out his dreams of ruling the kingdom.

Yet Aemond’s fiery Baratheon wife, you, were here in Criston’s arms. Your hand didn’t move from the chain, eyes locked onto his own. Criston swallowed, guilt rising in his throat. He knew you should be attending to your husband, the Prince who was the closest thing to a son he had. Instead, you sought him out.

“I asked was it worth it?”

Criston huffed, “I don’t know…yes. We still have Vhagar, the Hightower host with Daeron and Tessarion from the south. The Westermen are trying.”

You smiled without mirth, petting his shorn hair, hand on his bearded cheek. Criston looked agonized, weary, almost fearful. His wide brown eyes flicked away. Perhaps you should be attending to Aemond. You liked him too, but you’d long fallen for the marcher between your thighs.

A brief period with Criston as your sworn sword during the engagement had linked the pair of you on a frighteningly deep level. His presence was constantly at your side, a handsome man at your beck and call. You’d grown enamored with the knight— regardless of the strife at court, his oath, and the fact you were promised to another. There was a kinship in lacking a dragon, Crownland outsiders, and mutual feelings of bondage by station.

Aemond took many a trait from his mentor— imposing warrior, sharp of tongue, and never forgot a slight. Both men were regimented and pious, devoted to their faith, and their duties. Yet they’d play dirty, and crawl outside the lines of morality to get their way. Somehow that helped you bond with the serious prince.

You languished in the engagement period, Ser Criston informing you that the prince took your maidenhead seriously. At the time you were hoping enough complaining would drive Ser Cole to action.

Aemond had discarded you after a…heavy session of kissing and petting. He ended up gasping and holding a hand out, declaring he took his vows to the heart. On the other hand, Criston folded after a month or two, sturdy hands up your dress, fingers sliding into your neglected cunt. The kingsguard was guilty and mopey, yet desperately craved your touch, as much as you desired his.

It was a vicious cycle. Feeling guilty from deviance, fucking it out, coddling each other about said deviance then ending up fucking again.

You’d thought he’d break away once you were properly wedded to Aemond, discarding you out of shame and fear. The marcher was moody for a couple of days, eventually being seduced when you knelt and swallowed his cock in an alcove after your husband had upset you. Criston was a sight with his lean thighs trembling, sculpted lips hung open with soft noises, praising you helplessly.

Aemond’s guttural grunts and muffled curses had you satisfied in a vastly different way. He did the job, rough and thorough, the possible evidence laid between you and Criston. It was the subtle swell of life in your stomach. Alas, Aemond had begun filling your womb at the break of war. Likely before the horrid death of Prince Lucerys.

Criston’s dark expression softened as one of his gloved hands palmed your stomach, covered in regal yellow velvet. You stuck to your house colors, preferring shades of yellow to green. The Lord Commander asked, “Do you think…?”

You weren’t sure. He didn’t quite do a good job pulling out before the wedding. He was jealous and angry, especially if Aemond had spent some of his time with you. The kingsguard was reassigned back to Queen Alicent, now severed from constant contact. You remembered Criston’s hands bruising your hips as you barked for the man to ‘pull out, on my stomach!’ He made it about halfway, frantically painting half inside and out of your cunt.

“You’re mine, mine, mine,” he’d half-sobbed.

“You’re changing the subject. There is no telling. Likely anyone would know until they got older. Baratheons come out with black hair. The queen has brown eyes, and Borros is the same. It wouldn’t be shocking,” you looked down at his hand, “There’s more of a chance of my babe being yours if that is what you’re wondering.”

Criston’s eyes didn’t match his slight pout. The man was proud deep down, under all those layers of remorse and responsibility. You placed your hand over his and gritted, “I fear the outcome of this war. I’d more like to end up with a dead lover and husband. A child with no father.”

He snatched your chin, brown eyes shining with unshed tears. Criston growled lowly, “Don’t speak of things like that. We shall win this damnable war. Rhaenyra and that vile Daemon shall die,” the marcher added in a softer tone, “I will be there for the child.”

“Do you not think of absconding?”

His rough hand swept back to caress your inky hair, lips twisting uncomfortably. Criston bit out, “No. Not anymore. My fate relies upon the family that saved me.” His lips moved to your neck, kissing softly, battle-worn hands holding your neck.

“I think of absconding, ah, lest they send me to a black cell.”

Criston murmured angrily against your neck, “Then you ‘retreat’ to Storm’s End. I know your father has no love for Rhaenyra’s claim. Stop. You’re going to make yourself go insane.”

“You make me insane, Criston Cole.”

“I love you,” he pouted, that delicious pity filling his pretty head. You leaned forward to kiss him, soft tits and that slight bump pressing against his loose garments. He wasn't wearing his armor— a simple shirt and dark pants. Criston sighed, head tilting, one hand in your hair, the other sliding down your back.

He groaned soft and sweet, sharing innocent kisses that turned deeper and darker as desire grew. You readjusted on his lap, annoyed with the damn bump. Custom murmured, “When I return, I'll get to see my darling doe all buxom and glowing with my child.” You shivered, pressing your lips into his, lapping into a warm mouth.

Criston’s hands wandered freely, caressing your belly, moving up to grope your tits. He pulled away to breathe teasingly, “Mm- your tits will be gorgeous, you're already blessed as is. He pulled down the hem, exposing your sore chest. You couldn't help but moan and grind on his thigh, squirming with the lavish attention.

“What shall you name the child?” He hummed before sealing his lips around your nipple. Your hand grabbed his shoulder, heaving a soft breath at the flicking of the marcher’s tongue. You stammered, lashes flitting, “Some-thing Valyrian I, fucking smith’s balls, suppose. If it’s a girl, she shall have- Criston! Shall have my mother’s name.”

The man pulled off with a wet pop and smirked, moving to the other budded peak. You cursed and moaned as his fingers plucked at your slick nipple. You gripped at that damned chain of hands, arching into his eager mouth, rutting against his hard thigh. Your shift wedged between your legs was growing damper by the second, sticking uncomfortably to your folds.

Criston groaned and squeezed to the point of pleasure-pain. His soft brown eyes gazed up, mauve lips swollen. The knight still held your tits, thumbing idly. He croaked, “You’re beautiful. I love you,” tears welled up in his eyes, “We shouldn’t do this anymore.”

You knew Criston wasn’t wrong, thumbing a tear from his pretty face. It had been on your mind too. Exhaling softly, you kissed his other fallen tear, tasting the salt. You spoke in a low tone, fearful you may cry, “I know. We shan’t. I just want you to be there.”

Both of you knew Aemond’s pride would be shattered. He was erratic enough to have both of you beheaded and then fed to Vhagar. The prince’s wife fornicating with his surrogate father. It would be another blight next to his title of ‘kinslayer.’ This had to end before they marched to Harrenhal.

“I’ll be there, I promise.”

“Then let us enjoy ourselves a final time, hm?”

Criston inhaled sharply, nosing up along your throat, hands raking up your dress. He muttered, “I suppose if the bitch did it with no repercussions, you can too. To think how much I hated her bastards.” You let him ramble on, hands working off his loose shirt, eyeing the way his gold chain and necklace glimmered against olive skin and dark chest hair.

You shushed the man as your hands grabbed the strings of his breeches. In a soft voice, you replied, “Fate has a way of coming full circle. Do come back alive at the least.” He frowned again, nibbling on his lip when you eased his stiffened prick out. “I will miss this though, do you truly think we can stay away from one another?”

The knight moaned as you pumped him a few times, index finger swiping off his pre, your lips closing around the pearlescent drop. He blabbered, blinking dumbly, “I don't know. For now, this is the last time. C’mon love, you're all wet, need you.”

You smiled as he held up the dress— your hand guided the blunt head of the cock to your dripping entrance. It was an easy slide downward as your hands clasped his strong shoulders, gasping as his cock stretched and filled your cunt.

His dark lashes fluttered, thighs flexing underneath you as he groaned long and low. He held your waist, one hand periodically resting on your tummy. You took his swollen mouth, gently lifting and dropping your hips. The pair of you panted and desperately grabbed at each other, tongues intertwined, whines leaking out of tight throats.

Criston’s hips began to meet yours at a faster pace, fucking moans out of you. He grunted, “Gods— I fucking love you. Thinking about you, us, even if from afar. I shall crawl back if I have to.” You rolled up tight against his frame, forehead plastered to his cheek.

It was barely a whisper.

“I love you too. Very much.”

You realized you were wetting his skin, tears falling as you rode him harder. Criston gently moved your head up, hips stilled while peering in concern. It was an odd occurrence for you to shed tears. His face twisted in sympathetic pain as he asked ”Doe, what are you fretting for?”

Criston’s breath hitched as he took your lips again, both hands cupping your face, calloused thumbs swiping away tears. The chair creaked as you found leverage on your knees, riding him faster and faster— escaping the pain in your heart. He cried out, lips sliding against one another.

“J-Just, don't stop, make it feel real,” came the breathless beg.

The Hand, the Lord Commander, the Knight, the steward’s boy from Blackhaven. Criston Cole sorely missed being the young Knight from the Marches right now. He whimpered at the clenches around his pulsing cock, silky cunt gripping him as you bounced. He felt the hard bump of pregnancy, cock twitching at the visceral reaction it gave him.

You tossed back black hair as Criston pinched and squeezed at your nipple, wetly panting as you took the reins. The man’s eyes scrunched shut as he whined throatily, hand slinking under all that yellow velvet to circle your button. The electric stimulation and his swollen girth had you whining and choking out his name, arms locked around the tan neck.

“Fuck…jus’ like that, close Criston,” you mewled.

He was babbling lowly, likely sonnets of praise and devotion. The pair of you were much too gone to properly kiss— more panting and pressing messy lips wherever possible. Criston bucked up as he thumbed upward roughly on your pearl. You bit down on the meat of his shoulder to keep from howling.

Only the sound of heavy breath, the chair squeaking, and the tell-tale slaps of two bodies writhing filled the room. His free hand dug into your cheek, glossy dark eyes watching your furrowed brows and flushed face. You could feel his prick twitching and swelling more, Criston was close.

You were along with the knight on that razor-thin ledge, thighs and cunt quivering. His incessant touches to your bundle brought more pricks of hot tears to your eyes, mournfully whining, “I love you, fill me up this time, wan’ it.”

“Ah- nuh- love you- oh fuck yes,” he groaned.

He snapped first, hot breath fanning over your cheek as he curled forward, hips and chest following, thick ropes of spend filling your already stuffed pussy. The feeling had you shaking and clinging to your lover, thighs given out as he thumbed you over the edge.

You came apart in teary inhales and erotic little sobs on the exhale— sharp and whiny. Criston growled under his breath as your pussy milked him some more, balls forced to push out just a little more, toeing that painful pleasure. He felt ragged, bleak, spent. He wanted to carry you to bed.

You smoothed out his hair, eyes brimming with tears, a painful smile on your face. You needed to leave now and get cleaned up before bed. Before Aemond barged in here asking to discuss the battle. It would have been better if he carried you to bed or a bath.

He took your lips once more as his bigger hands eased your frame off of his softening dick. Your lover’s molten seed leaked from your sore cunt. Ever the protector, he fussed over your state, hands fixing your dress, asking little questions. It stung like a manticore when you pushed Criston’s lovely hands to get him away.

“No more sweet knight, I need to get going. We must refrain now. I can't go around looking like this.”

Criston frowned and repeated himself, “I will be back. I promise.”

“I love you.”

He watched your trembling form exit his chambers in the Hand’s tower. He got up, stepped to the door, then stopped. Criston stifled his sob, locking the door instead. The knight would drink and sit with his thoughts. It was only right for a sinner destined to fail and take others down with him. He grit his teeth and swallowed down the nearest spiced rum bottle, fingers curled around those damn gilded hands.

[shinestarhwaa]

GETAWAY CAR || WOOYOUNG

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff

Pairing: Wooyoung x Fem reader

Word Count: 3K

Tags/Warnings: Strangers to lovers, runaway bride y/n, roadtripper Wooyoung, toxic relationship (not woo), corruption, a looot of things wrong with y/n's ex, single bed trope, sexual assault, trauma, traumabonding, oral sex, dirty language, protected sex, praise kink, fingering, biting kink

Taglist: @anyamaris @a-soft-hornytiny @whatudowhennooneseesyou @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @woosanbby @dreamlesswonder86 @changbinslovelylegs @jonghostie @lovjensoo @mjyungi @bratty-tingz @sugarnspice630 @stardragongalaxy @bro-atz @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisg00dgirl @vesvosmozhno @therealcuppicake @unholywriters @enbymingi @jjoongstar

ENJOY!

You swore you had never ran this fast before in your life. An occasional jogging session in the park? Sure. Played hide and seek at the age of 7 on the playground? Totally.

But you were sure this must be some kind of personal record. You cursed yourself for picking a big ass ballgown because man, it was heavy just wearing it. And now you were carrying it as you fled the church.

You were breathing so fast you thought you might have a panic attack but you also knew if you stopped now they'd find you in no time. The white heels were slightly too tight but you ran in them nonetheless, surprising yourself with this newfound talent.

Suddenly you noticed a big black van across the street and before thinking you made your way over there. There was a young man inside, handsome, you could already tell. Could be hurt you? Kill you? Yeah, possibly. Likely. But you tapped the window nonetheless.

The guy rolled down the window and raised his eyebrow, watching a young woman with sweat dripping from her forehead and obviously wearing a huge wedding dress cling to the door of his van.

"Can I help you? Drive you to a wedding, perhaps?" He grinned.

"I'm running away from it, actually. Please, I need to get in. I can't marry him, I need... Need to get in."

You looked at him with pleading eyes, grasping the door so tight your knuckles turned white. He looked concerned for a second but he nodded, hopping out of the van and opening the door on the passenger's side.

As you stepped inside and took a seat, the guy helped stuffing your train into the vehicle with you. He slammed the door and sat back behind the wheel. "A runaway bride, huh?"

"Yeah. I don't care where you're going, just drive somewhere, anywhere is better than this horrendous town," you shuddered. "Got ya," he said before starting the car. You took deep breath, calming down from the sprint you took.

"I'm Wooyoung, I'm bored so I am roadtripping" the guy said as he drove out of town, entering the highway. "Y/N," you breathed out, "professional runaway bride."

He laughed, startling you with some kind of witchy-noise or whatever the hell it was. "May I ask what the story is? I love a good story time."

You sighed and brushed your hair out of your face. "Well, I was supposed to marry this guy. This... business guy who I dated for years. This guy I completely wasted my youth on."

"Was he that bad?" Wooyoung asked. You scoffed and rolled your eyes. "Do you have a minute?" "Spill the beans," he said, nodding his head. "He's 7 years older, to start with. He corrupted me, being my first everything basically. We got together when I was 16, he was 23 and I was too in love to notice how wrong that was. No one around me cared, honestly. My parents and his parents are business partners and very good friends and that's how we met."

Wooyoung nodded again, understanding the moral of the story. "They just wanted you to marry well to look good, didn't they?"

You sighed. "That's right. They were planning a huge church wedding for us and it was all so overwhelming. Over the past months I realized I wasn't in a loving relationship. I've been stuck in a trap where I was going to be used as a maid with an available womb. A woman to clean the house, cook, do whatever he wants me to and birth 6 sons or whatever."

"That sounds awful, I'm glad you saw the light, for real." "Me too. I don't know what I'm gonna do now. I don't think I can ever have a functioning relationship with my parents again, or even look them in the eyes. I might need to move continents," you grinned.

"Solid idea, running away from problems is also my solution to everything."

"Oh yeah? What is your story?"

"Well," Wooyoung started, "mostly my family's high expectations of me. They want me to be a lawyer or a doctor but... I don't know. I wanna see the world. I wanna be free."

There was a sense of deep sadness in that last sentence, changing the ambience inside the van. You figured everyone dealt with their own problems as well.

"You felt trapped too?" You asked him, looking at him. He nodded. "I felt trapped too."

•♡○♡○♡•♡○♡•

After an hour of driving Wooyoung parked at a motel. "Really?" You asked him as you looked at the place in disgust. "Well, I'm no billionaire, Y/N." You nodded and followed him inside, where he bargained for a room.

"Congratulations on the wedding," the woman behind the desk said with a bright smile. Not having the energy to explain your story you thanked her and followed Wooyoung to your shared motel room.

It wasn't pretty, or luxurious like you were used to but it did the job. "I'm sorry she said she only has this room, no rooms with two single beds or anything," Wooyoung apologized.

You nodded and sat down on the bed. "I honestly don't care. I just need to sleep." Wooyoung nodded and patted your shoulder lightly. "I'm going to use the bathroom for second," he said before excusing himself.

When Wooyoung came back you were lying on your back, fast asleep. He felt sad, looking at you laying in the motel bed on your wedding day. He looked around in his bag and pulled out some cash money before exiting the room to buy some essentials.

The next morning you woke up, but Wooyoung wasn't next to you. Where did he go? Did that fucker abandon you? You sat up and looked around and noticed Wooyoung bought a bottle of water, a sandwich and a dress for you to wear. You felt tears burn in your eyes and suddenly it was hard to breathe. Pushing away your feelings, you got ready.

Half an hour later you left the room with the dress in your arms. You walked over to the van and noticed Wooyoung sitting inside it with the back doors open. "Hey," he said with a smile. "Hi, what are you doing here? Why did you get me a dress?"

"I couldn't possibly let you wear that wedding dress any longer so I got some from a convenience store last night. And... I slept here." "In the van? On that matrass? Jesus Wooyoung, we had a bed you know." "I couldn't sleep next to you. You're a woman, you were supposed to get married and... I... I didn't want to bother you or make you uncomfortable."

Tears burned in your eyes again and you sight, laying the dress in the van, next to the matrass. "Thank you, I appreciate it..." you mumbled, "Where are we going now? Do we have a plan?"

"Do I look like I plan these things?" He grinned, getting up from the van and closing the backdoor before sitting behind the wheel. You got in too and whipped out your phone, but as you suspected it was dead. Maybe that was for the best anyway.

Later on you and Wooyoung had driven for hours and it was time for a break. You got to know each other well and you thought he was surprisingly fun. It was around 2PM when you got out of the car after whining about being hungry for about 2 hours. You were leaning against the car door while Wooyoung went into the shop at the gas station to get you something to eat and drink.

Wooyoung had only been gone for a few minutes when a guy came up to you. He looked slightly crooked and he gave you an eerie feeling. Uncomfortable, you shifted a little bit and looked around, trying to spot people around you but it was quiet.

"Hey there, gorgeous," the man spoke in a low voice that gave you goosebumps. And not the good kind. You cringed when you smelled the alcohol on his breath. "Hi," you said, trying to sound brave and confident. "Are you all alone here princess?" "Princess?" You scoffed.

"Well aren't you a little princess? I could surely treat you like a princess in bed," he smirked, getting closer. Your body froze and your eyes widened as you felt the man's hands on you. Just when the man was about to touch your chest he got pulled away.

Wooyoung.

"What the hell are you doing man?" He yelled. The man stumbled and fell down, groaning and yelling something that you couldn't understand. Wooyoung nearly pushed you into the van before getting in himself, driving off quickly. He tossed a little plastic bag filled with drinks and snacks into your lap.

"Geez, I'm sorry that happened, did he go far?" "N-no it's okay," you whispered. You wanna be brave about this but the idea of what could have happened if Wooyoung came back a little later. No one else would have been around. "I got scared when I walked out of the shop and saw that man by my van. Then I realized why I didn't see you. That perverted freak was towering all over you. So, I ran. I was not gonna let that happen to you too."

Too? What did he mean by that? You shrugged off the thoughts and thanked Wooyoung before eating one of the sandwiches from the shop. Wooyoung turned back to the highway, driving further to your next stop.

There was a nice little inn right next to the road and you decided to stay the night there. The inn also contained a little restaurant where you were seated, enjoying a nice homecooked meal. You were feeling a little cold, so Wooyoung had thrown his jacket over your shoulders. It hardly worked but the thought of it warmed your heart.

"Wooyoung?" You started when you finished your meal. He nodded and looked up, his eyes finding yours. "What did you mean when you said you didn't want that to happen to me too? Why the too?"

Wooyoung swallowed thickly and sighed, slightly dropping his head before looking at you again. "Because it happened to me, a few years ago. This person... cornered me, before they tried to kiss me and feel me up while I said I didn't want them to. I felt horrible after that and I don't want you to feel that way too. You already have enough family and wedding drama, you don't need assault drama to go with it."

You took Wooyoungs hand and gently squeezed it. "Thank you for sharing that, Woo." Wooyoung kindly smiled and assured you it was all good, and that he's just glad that you are alright.

That night you learned about Wooyoung's playful side after having a couple shots with him in the hotelroom. "So what's your bodycount?" He had asked. "Excuse meee? What kind of question is that!" You yelled, nearly punching him in the face. "Hey I am just curious. I'll tell you mine! It is-" "I do not need to hear it Woo! Fine. It's 1, duh."

"You've only slept with that dickhead?" "Well I was 16 when we got together so yeah?" "Was he any good?"

You sighed and rolled your eyes. "Well I don't really have any comparison? I don't know. I don't really miss it I guess? I like the idea of it but I don't necissarily enjoyed it that much?"

"I bet he didn't use his dick right." "Wooyoung, please."

"I'm serious!" Wooyoung said as he got up. "He probably had no idea how to pleasure a woman. How to make her feel loved and safe while at the same time make her scream out your name and completely ruin her."

Your cheeks heated up when he spoke those words and your eyes scanned Wooyoungs body, unintentionally. "What's that like?" You asked, sounding a little too innocent for your liking.

"Want me to show you?"

Your breath hitched in your throat. You remember what you'd heard people say one day: nothing good starts in a getaway car. Maybe you should run. Maybe you should not travel around with Wooyoung, a stranger. That is what you told yourself. But your heart said differently. Wooyoung wasn't just a stranger. He's your savior. It doesn't matter that he's not perfect, that he is on the run, that he has issues left to work out. He drove your getaway car when you needed it the most. He saved you from a life of unhappiness. You weren't unsafe with him.

And this thought made you fall.

You pulled him on top of you and pressed your lips on his, tasting the alcohol the two of you drank earlier. You weren't drunk but you sure felt lightheaded when Wooyoung slightly bit your lip. He grinned playfully as he slid his knee inbetween your thighs.

His knee gently rubbed against your clothed crotch and you whimpered into his mouth, grinding yourself on it instantly. Wooyoung pulled back from the kiss and his hands skimmed across your clothed breasts. "What a naughty little girl," he smirked, pushing his knee slightly harder into your crotch. You moaned when it triggered your clit, making your cunt clench around nothing.

"Wooyoung, please," you sighed softly. Wooyoung nodded and shifted your dress up to your waist, pulling down your panties. He got on his knees in front of the bed and pulled you closer to the edge, legs over his shoulders as he buried his face into your warmth.

You winced when you felt his teeth graze your clit before sucking lightly on it. "I'm gonna treat this pretty pussy so well, gonna make you come like he never has," he spoke. "H-he's never used his mouth on me so that is a given," you said in a breathy voice.

Wooyoung looked at you, surprised. He kept eye contact as he kept sucking on your sensitive clit, one of his fingers slowly entering your wet hole. Soon enough he slid in a second, pumping and curling them right where you liked it. Wooyoung paid attention to your facial expressions and body language to see what would make you go crazy.

When he started to fuck you with his fingers, his lips and tongue still attached to your clit you started to moan louder, unable to contain the moans that erupted from your throat. The way he pleasured you was nearly poetic. It was calculated, but heartfelt. He knew what he was doing. He knew what he wanted to say. What he wanted you to feel.

You felt your core tighten and you knew you were about to come soon. When you announced your nearing orgasm to Wooyoung he didn't stop. He kept going, ready to take the arousal that you'd give him.

This orgasm was like nothing you had ever experienced before. It started slowly and it was building up until everything crashed down and it seemed to go on endlessly, until Wooyoung pulled away from you. "That's it, that's a good girl," Wooyoung spoke.

You took a deep breath before propping yourself up on your elbows, looking into Wooyoungs eyes. Your dress had slipped down slightly, one of your nipples being visible ever so slightly. It was a sight to behold to Wooyoung. Nothing he had ever seen before felt this erotic. The prettiest, sensitive pussy right there on display for him, the fucked out look on your face. It drove him insane and he had to have you now.

Wooyoung took a condom from his bag and stripped himself bare. You were surprised to see the tattoos on his skin. You wanted to admire them but Wooyoung had put on his condom and lifted up your legs, calves resting against his chest. You nodded quickly, giving him consent to do whatever it was that he wanted to do to you.

Gently, he pushed into your cunt, spread open wide for him. "Oh, Woo!" You cried out when he started moving inside you. You were feeling sensitive after your orgasm and his pelvis brushed against your clit slightly with every thrust.

"That feels so good, k-keep doing that!" You whimpered when he picked up his pace and force. Wooyoung grunted and bit into the skin of your lower leg to surpress his moans. You whined loudly and grabbed the sheets tight into your fists, squeezing until your knuckles turned white.

Something about not being able to see your entire body but still getting the honor of being inside you and rocking your world did something to Wooyoung. It certainly did not take long before he felt himself get close, so he slowed down but immediately you begged him for more.

"Give it to me, give me everything, please!" You begged him, squirming underneath him as he leaned down more. He pounded into you and moaned out your name, his eyebrows furrowed.

"W-Wooyoung please come for me, please come, say my name," you panted out when you felt Wooyoung twitch inside your pussy. Only seconds later Wooyoung screamed out your name, spurting his seeds into the condom.

Wooyoung leaned back and spread your legs a little more so he could reach your clit. He moved his fingers over your sensitive, swollen clit and it only took a minute before you came again with Wooyoungs name on your lips.

He pulled his thick cock out of you and discarded the condom, throwing it in the trash. He placed you properly on the bed before kissing your head and making sure you're doing well.

"That was incredible," you breathed out, "you made me cum twice!"

Wooyoung laughed and stroked your hair. "Well that should be the standard." You grinned and nodded, laying your sleepy head on Wooyoungs chest. Maybe not everything about that getaway car is bad. Maybe something good can come out of it after all.

[peachpitfics]

Out of the Woods

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: As Lord and Lady Debling, you are headed back to your estate to spend time together in seclusion before your new husband has to leave for his next research endeavour.

Length: 3.3k

Pairing:  Lord Alfred Debling x fem!reader

Content Warnings: fingering, public sex, penetrative sex, vaginal sex, breeding/impregnation.

Bridgerton master list (tag list)

Lord Debling’s estate was several days away by carriage, but that was no matter, you had each other to get to know along the way. There had only been your family present at the wedding, and a few of Alfreds close friends and colleagues. It was suspected by yourself and your family that perhaps you would not be meeting the Lords family at all.

The wedding night had been more than you had dreamed of, and while he had explicitly claimed he was not looking for love, you could see the beginnings of something forming between you. Your new husband was gentle and kind, with the softest touch – your mother had warned you on your wedding day that men took their pleasures with their wives that evening. But she was wrong, Lord Debling allayed all your fears, quelled your nerves, and held you tightly all night.

“Are you excited to see the manor?” Lord Debling reached over to you, sitting next to him, and clasped his hand around yours. His touch never seemed out of place or uncomfortable.

“Yes, of course I am Alfred” You replied, looking out the window to see if it was getting nearer. In the distance, a sprawling manor, snugly built into a valley, was surrounded by overgrown trees and vines. It looked peaceful. His thumb stroked the top of your hand in fondness, excited to see you so alit.

The manor had wide, deep blue double doors and tall windows, you were sure this home would be filled with a lot of light. The service staff of the house all stood outside to greet you, their own excitement bubbling over. Alfred appeared to be friendly with each member of staff, shaking hands and even offering his head housekeeper a warm hug upon arrival.

“Is this your lovely bride then, my Lord?” The middle-aged woman asked, beaming at you.

“So, it is. I’d like you all to get acquainted with Lady Y/n – My travels begin in a weeks’ time, and I will be leaving her ladyship in charge of the entire estate” Alfred placed a firm hand at the small of your back and pulled you into him.

Clambering up the front steps, Alfred began giving you the grand tour of your new home. The study, the library, the master bedroom and even the nursery – something in you was not expecting there to be a full nursey set up no meters from where you were sleeping. But it did excite you, the thought of children running around the manor to keep you busy while Alfred was away. It was your favourite room in the manor.

Leading you back to the sitting room at the front of the house, he held both your hands in his, “If you could eat anything for supper tonight, what might it be?” Alfred asked excitedly.

His question took you by surprise. You had taken on your husband’s lifestyle as soon as he asked for your hand.

“I would greatly appreciate fresh bread,” Your mouth began watering, “And eggs! Perhaps also some jam” You blushed, thinking about the insane request you just made.

Alfred laughed heartily, “Of course, I should hope we will not be having the jam and eggs together” He prayed, scooping you up into his arms and laying you on the settee by the window. It would not have mattered what size you were, Alfreds strength was clear and effortless. Even without a love match, you felt adored. Every interaction seemed romantic.

You spent the evening in the dining room, speaking about your lives back and forth, picking at bread and cheese the cook had sent out after you kept on at the table well after the meal was finished. It was nice, getting to know someone on this level.

There was a lull in the conversation, you could tell your husband wanted to ask you something.

“Y/n, the housekeepers have prepared a room for you across the hall from the master bedroom,” He swallowed, “However, you are welcome to sleep with me. The choice is yours, of course, and I will bare no ill will, whatever you choose”. Alfred was so very well spoken, even if he was trying not to choke on the words from nervousness.

You thought about it for a moment. You would have plenty of time to be alone with your thoughts. Sleeping separately would create an unintentional divide and even damage your chances of falling in love. The decision felt simple to you.

“I should like to sleep in the master bedroom” You flashed him a delicate smile.

“I would like that, very much” He replied, an uncontrollably grateful smile glistening in his eyes. You could see it when he looked at you, this glint of hope, right in the centre of his luminous blue iris. “Shall we go to bed then?” Alfred stood, holding out his hand to escort you up the stairs.

Lying together in bed, unsure of what was considered appropriate, you kept your fingers woven together, hands planted on your stomach. You felt him roll onto his side to face you in the dark, so you matched him, getting a little closer.

“I apologise for my introspection; I do not know how to act” Alfred whispered to you.

“I have not been married before. I know how to run a house, keep things going… But I have never been a wife before, I do not know either” You reassured him he was not the only one feeling a little lost.

“I am sure we will get used to being together” Alfred reached out, squeezing your arm in solidarity, “I think I should like sharing a bed with you. I wish to speak to you tomorrow on some matters only husband and wife should discuss. However, my lady, I am so very tired from travelling and I must sleep” He sighed, drifting forward in the blackness to press his warm lips into yours. Shivers of excitement raced down your body as you spun around and slid into his arms, the both of you falling asleep in minutes.

                                          ~

Alfred invited you to breakfast the following day, your heart pounded as you made your way to the dining room, wondering what he wanted to speak to you about. Breakfast was quiet, there was an apprehensive tenseness in his shoulders and the way he picked prudently at his eggs.

“I am of the impression you are feeling less than confident about what you must discuss with me today, Alfred. I want you to know that I will listen to what you have to say with respect and consideration” You tried to reassure him.

His face upturned, “I am pleased to hear it. The questions I have are easy enough to ask, but I do struggle with beginning the conversation, without appearing too direct” He cleared his throat with a soft chuckle.

“Do not concern yourself, simply ask the questions you would like answered and I will do my best” You nodded once, putting down your fork and straightening your dress.

“Alright,” Alfred shuffled uncomfortably, “I would like to discuss the possibility of an heir. I know that I am going to be away for some time, and I will be leaving you to care for the estate. I wish to have children, and I know that your mama had said that you were also committed to little ones. Is that true?” The words tumbled from him in a heap.

“Of course, my mother would never have lied about my desires. I have always wanted children, as long as I can remember I have dreamed of being a mother” You beamed. Alfred seemed relieved in hearing this, and you felt the same similar alleviation.

“Thank goodness,” Alfred sighed happily, “Is this something you would like to achieve before I am to go away? I understand that I would miss the first several years of our first child’s life, but if it would make you happy, I would be agreeable to trying.”

Your face could not hide the stretch of your smile at all. Nothing would have made you happier; you had fretted over this conversation, your mind telling you that there was no way Alfred would want children, considering his endeavors. It seemed you could not be more wrong, and with every passing moment between you, love bloomed further in your heart.

“I think a picnic, this afternoon, in my favourite spot!” Alfred rubbed his hands together excitedly. You nodded fervently, clawing to spend more time with him before he left.

The cook prepared a picnic basket, with wine and bread, cheese, and fruits. There was a blanket inside also. You assumed this was something he did often, even alone, as the picnic basket was quite worn. The basket hung on his left forearm, his other hand clasped in yours as he led you out the kitchen door, and across the field.

“Tis not a far way to walk” He remarked, making sure you had comfortable shoes on anyhow. You squeezed his hand, silently thanking him for caring enough to check.

The grass was long and unkept, the trees and thicket were dense. Alfred liked to keep and observe nature exactly how it was. He enjoyed watching the birds and the foxes evade each other at the edge of the bramble. If the housekeeper found a snake or a toad, she always found him to remove it properly. Nothing in his natural habitat worried him much, hardly even the spiders, webs woven tightly between slight gaps on your journey.

Getting closer and closer to your destination, you could hear it. The sweet somber trickling of water. A crooked, clear stream, in the middle of this jungle of dour giants, solidified statues of spirits long gone. Every step you took felt ancient, the hollowness of your chest, uneasy in such unfamiliar territory. Yet there was Alfred, more at home here than in the manor. Watching him was like watching a child play outdoors, sheer wonder and interest on his face in the unexplored.

Under the shade of a willow, in the grass by the stream, Alfred spread the blanket out, sitting down in a homely manner. The way he looked up at you, angelic, his eyes beckoning you to him, his hand outstretched, begging you to trust him. Before even thinking about it, your body had moved you towards him, curling your legs behind you, nestling into his side.

“Does it worry you, being out here?” He asked softly.

“I do not think worry is the correct word. I appreciate how comfortable you are here, it is strange to me” You blinked up at him, “This is potentially one of the most beautiful places I have ever been in my life” You hummed, watching the water creep over the rocks in front of you gently.

“I am glad you think so” Alfred fiddled with leaves in his left hand, the other wrapped around you. His hand rested on your plump hip, his fingers stretching back and forth, grasping on a little. It was like he was assessing how he could grab onto you, the thought of which thrilled you a little. You reached your hand up and combed your fingers through his beard. These were firsts for the both of you – you did not expect the texture to be so cushy and light, it fascinated you. Alfred’s hair was so light and neat, well taken care of. He closed his eyes as you stroked his face, a gentle smile took hold and a little pink tinge glowed on his cheeks.

The movement of your hand stopped only when you were properly hypnotized by his facial expression. Alfred opened his eyes when it dawned on him that you were simply staring, an infatuated gleam reflected in your own eyes.

“Shall we have something to eat?” Alfred asked.

“Please” You gave your head a slight shake, breaking free of your trance.

Your husband served you a small plate of bread, cheese, and fruit, he poured the wine and passed a glass to you. You thought about how content you were, picnicking with your husband. You sat cross legged across from each other now, the conversation light, the food, delicious. Alfred watched on as you tried your best to eat your lunch like a lady. Biting into fresh raspberries, juice dribbling down your chin, a droplet falling onto your chest. Without hesitation, Alfreds thumb met your chin, swiping another droplet off with his finger and bringing it to his mouth sensually.

Suddenly his icy blue eyes deepened, a scorching claim sparked. You had made love once before, on your wedding night, out of obligation. It had been slightly uncomfortable and more educational than recreational. Then, he had been calm and gentle, it felt like he separated himself and his genuine desire. Now, this look in his eye, ignited something candescent in your lower stomach.

Alfred lunged forward, his lips colliding with yours in a ravenous fashion. You both gasped for air at the slightest of breaks in your osculation, Alfred’s hands finding their way to your hips, dragging you forward to sit in his lap. He was tall, even sitting, he had to bend down to kiss you. His thick fingers, and wide palms, threaded their way through your hair, taking hold of you. The dainty kisses he placed along your jawline felt lovesick, his moans were carnal, and still thoroughly shy. Your hips instinctually ground into his, feeling how hard he was beneath his breeches under you.

Reaching between you, your hand slid down the length of him through his pants, hopeless yearning surging through you, you could barely contain yourself. This was the first time you felt like a wife, with her husband. Alfreds head hushed backwards, gasps leaving his lips. His eyes seemed to roll around in his head, sedate with pleasure.

“My lady” Alfred groaned, swallowing, “Are you certain? Here?” He asked breathlessly.

“Yes, I am sure” You had never felt so safe and so vulnerable in your life.

Alfred began stripping off clothing from his upper half, his eye contact surer suddenly. You observed, afraid blinking meant you would miss something. His chest was solid, bulky. His shoulders broad, his collar bones defined. Your hands rushed to his bare chest, fingers playing in his light brown, blonde chest hair that neatly trickled down his belly and into his pants. It had been dark on your wedding night, very low candlelight, whereas now, in the middle of the day, you could see every detail.

His hands moved from your hair and pulled your hands from his crotch, maintaining your gaze as his fingers danced exploratively down your inner thigh, towards the apex of your thighs. Your lips parted ever so slightly, fearful pleasure pooling in sweet wetness between your legs.

Alfred leaned forward, his lips hardly touching yours, “It will be okay” He whispered into you. He had not touched you like this before. His pointer finger delved between your lips, exotic excitement contorting your face as his finger brushed against your clitoris for the first time. Your knees wanted to clench together, stopped by his other hand, holding your legs apart for him as you sat on his legs. Switching to his thumb, stroking upward, Alfreds pleased expression, complacence seemed to ooze from every pore as your moans overtook the sounds of nature surrounding.

This was what you had been craving, this intimacy with your husband. His fingers flicked, circled, and tapped in just the right spots, his breathy kisses were the only encouragement you needed, he sent you right into a shockingly continuous climax. The sounds you made were loud, uncontrollable moans that echoed off the dense trees around you. The longer he caressed you there, the many more ripples of this exquisite feeling you felt.

“You are very easy to please, my lady” Alfred moaned softly into your mouth, his tongue flicking over yours, his teeth holding your lower lip captive.

“Perhaps you just know me better than you think” You sighed in glorious resign. You reached down, unbuttoning his breeches, his blue eyes widening and willing.  Planting your hands on each of his shoulders, you pushed him to the picnic blanket, sliding your legs either side of his as he laid down. Stuffing your own anxiety down, you reached into his trousers and freed his erection. You inspected it first, not having seen it in this light before. This was your first time holding it in your hands, your first time touching different parts of him. You felt you should have guessed the size of it would seem gargantuan to you, with the width of his shoulders and how tall he was. It only made sense that proportionally, he was large in your hands and extremely hard. It intrigued you, and you promised yourself, that in a more comfortable location, you would explore him further. For right now, you just wanted to make him feel as he made you.

Up under your dress, your hand wrapped around his length, you placed him at your entrance as you hovered over him. Alfreds hands rested steadily on your hips, ready to help guide you down. Sinking down onto the first inch of him, you yelped in pleasant surprise, pausing for a moment to allow your body to adjust.

“You are so beautiful” Alfreds fingers brushed against your cheek, your mouth opening as you lowered yourself down another few inches. There were not many times before now that Alfred had truly complimented you, but this felt the most real. It felt the truest.

Your skin met his, you moved gently, the size of him effectively widening this part of your body. His elegant face looked up at you, nodding as his hips started meeting your movements in a more consistent rhythm. Everything felt tight, and yet free, Alfreds continuous thrusts were masterful. His hands flicked up under your dress, his fingers sinking into that divot in your hips where he had felt earlier.

“I imagined this would be the perfect place to hold you” He groaned, pressing you down into him. Every motion was deliberate, fueled by necessary, propulsive demand. Unbridled lust loomed underneath you, Alfred became unrestrained, idly sinful; pulling you forward, finally getting to kiss you as you bounced back to his thrust.

“Al- Alfred! Oh my god!” You screamed, his deepest maneuver yet sending you spinning.

“I want fill you y/n” Alfred moaned, losing control of his facial expressions.

Each powerful thrust felt deeper than the last, the raw insatiable need exuding from Alfred felt primitive and tawdry. Alfred cursed towards the heavens, his grip on your fleshy hips tighter than before. Each thrust more aggressive, more depraved, his mindless hunger for you tarnishing his gentlemanly sensibilities. Alfred finally reached his own supernal culmination, pressing into you a final few times before pulling you down to his side. Alfred's strong arms stretched around you and pulled you into him, his kiss a celebration of the acts you had performed together.

You snuggled up together on the picnic blanket, peaceful and mutually satisfied. Alfreds arms felt secure, and you realized you were already well and truly in love with him.

“Alfred,” You sighed sleepily.

“Mmm?” Alfred mumbled in response.

“I love you” You curled into him in an almost feline nature.

Alfreds body did not go rigid as you expected. Instead, he kind of relaxed into you more.

“I must admit, I did not expect to fall in love when we made this match,” Alfred articulated softly, “But I am enjoying it… Falling in love with you” Alfred rolled his head to the side, pressing a kiss onto your temple. “How thrilling it is to think we might have just created our first born”.

You finished your afternoon, drifting in and out of serene sleep beneath the swaying willow, the sound of trickling water and birds chirping, the only disturbance for miles.

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

Tag list: @cringycat24 // @blckbarbiedoll // @freyagallileaevans // @junkie05 // @rosabeetroot // @flamewriterr //

If you would like to be tagged in Bridgerton fanfiction written by me in the future, please let me know!

[plasticfangtastic]

Dairy Girl-- Part 3

A Homelander x F!Reader fic

A/N: 1more part to go, I've be going on a 4 day trip on wed so I should post the final part next wk, thanks everybody for reading here is part 2 (there's a link for part 1 there)

Synopsis: In order to provide a constant supply of fresh breastmilk for Vought’s number one hero, Vought has had to get quite nifty in order to prevent this secret desire out the press and the public– you have unfortunately discovered the truth.

tags: child death mention, depressive, dark, kidnapping, stocklhom syndrome, HL tw.

word count: 4.4K

Part 3-- Fields

Months.

You’ve been here for months.

You aren’t quite certain of the timeframe but you kept track of the full moon, how often things faded and re-emerged, you’re sure half a year of your life has vanished slower than ever before, for weeks you find yourself holding on, now you aren’t sure why? This body of yours grows heavier around his arms as you sat there in that massive corner booth listening, as he squeezed your jacket as if to remind you he had a hold on you… or to make sure you were okay, you hoped.

Several months have passed and you can’t help but wonder how you ended up in this Chinese restaurant having dinner with your captor.

Homelander’s visitation continued to be more sporadic, your time seems of less importance these days, you find yourself painfully alone, no matter how pretty the tapestry, how interesting the films have become, how delicious the food is or how the forced expansion of your music taste as they feed you an eclectic collection from japanese city pop to medieval folk rock albums changed the fact that you were alone. It had been endless weeks since you last saw a human being beside Homelander.

You stared at that steel door, its presence tempting you, mocking you, insulting you.

You pressed aimlessly at the panel hoping it would break or force somebody to emerge to tell you off– just the sound of a live human would be enough to fill this emptiness inside you even if it was for a short burst. The library elevator had been locked and no amount of pulling would get it to break, your voice, your sole company, birds would come and sing ‘hello’ but as pretty as they were they flew away at the sight of you.

Everything was perpetually quiet.

At least when the sun still lingered.

At night you couldn’t even sleep this awfulness off, your brain trapped you in a different nightmare.

The only time when this house wasn’t submerged in silence was in your slumber.

Ghost lived here you’ve come to accept.

“Every night I have the same nightmares” you spoke to a squirrel one morning

Cries of a baby you can never find, as you wake up, dazed and exhausted you hear the faintest cry and all your mind has tried to do these past few weeks and months have been to move on but ghostly cries forever remind you of the emptiness left in your arms, ghost hoping to crush everything within you, but when the sun is out you tell yourself that your baby boy is gone, you accept it. 

Every night before bed you recite a fresh mantra ‘you’re okay now, that in the future perhaps you could finally become a mother, that the embers still burn inside you, your love is there but is not wrong to move on’ but your nightmares won’t let you move on from a pain you couldn’t forget.

You pray to whatever god you believed, or used to believe for dreamless slumber, each night the thought of sleep frightens you, making you wish for death for it was kinder.

The only peaceful slumber comes with a blond catch.

In your arms he’s both small and larger than life, light and heavy, his lips pursed on your sensitive skin, his quiet moans and mewls send shivers down your spine yet bring you an animalistic primal comfort that tap in a primitive part of your motherly brain, his scent fades and returns the next time reeking of oatmeal and chamomile, as your nose sinks on his hair and he wraps his naked hand around your waist itching to crawl higher, to hold your breast much like a real baby would you forget he is grown, picking his fingers and letting them hang on your own, in this times were you drift away from boredom– you sleep peacefully. Wondering if there was safety in this? The world’s most powerful man held against your bosom, nothing could hurt you here– not even the nightmares. Afraid of him you supposed.

Homelander looks up with glassed eyes, licking his lips as he pops your nipple out his mouth, blissed out, so happy it colors you with envy– that’s the only smile you know it's 100% genuine, you seen all his earlier movies it certainly been refined but his smile is disturbingly faux… convincingly sold, nevertheless as he nuzzles you and giggles softly into your chest that you learn what his truly looked like.

When was the last time you smiled like that? You wondered.

You hand caressed his face cleaning a loose drop off his chin.

“You want me to stay tonite?”

It’s been almost 2 weeks since he stayed more than a couple hours, you don’t know what to say, he still fills you with fear but as the afternoon glow colors the tapestry and the night creeps closer and closer you want that safety… just one night without nightmares.

“Please stay…”

Homelander smiles and squeezes your sides, forcing you into a hug, he begins talking and is not a conversation you can follow or wished to but is music nowadays– the sound of another person, it's the sweetest music you’d ever listened to, searing banalities into your eardrums, but its sweet… something to make you forget that by morning he’d be gone and you be left alone with nothing but ghosts and thoughts.

“Can we switch positions?” Your arm has grown numb under him.

He grumbles pouting like a child, but he’s happy to oblige, the TV plays quietly in the background you’re unsure how much longer the tape has, but he stares at you as he sits straight waiting for further instruction, while you fix the pillows.

“I just want to be the little spoon…”

Homelander eyes light up–literally. It doesn’t last long and his lips curl dropping on the bed with eager eyes, your grimace is internal but you crawl into padded arms.

“Promise me you won’t leave in the middle of the night…” you say so quietly, he stares at those pretty eyes of yours and those thick dark circles under your eyes allowing himself to caress your cheek– until morning…”

“Ryan is off on a camping trip with one of his buddies… I can stay the whole weekend.”

“Weekend?”

“It’s friday, Y/N.” He says as if that was obvious.

Your eyes open so wide it hurts your face, but you nod furiously, a part of you dies, whatever self-respect you had is fading as the only thought consuming you is that for at least 2 days you’ll have company.

“I’m surprised you let him go”

“I have a few men watching him from a distance, and I can fly and check up on him at any point” he says through gritted teeth.

“It’s nice that you trust him. Must make him feel like a big kid… My parents never let me do such things…”

“Why not?” He asks, watching you with genuine surprise as your body loses resistance, sinking into him.

“They worried too much… always sheltering me… watching over me…” You missed them, you missed a world of people, now those obnoxious actions of the past warm your heart but you don’t let it be seen– He’s lucky to have you.”

You stayed in his arms until the credits finished rolling.

“Kill the feed!” Homelander shouts startlingly you stiff, he waits in silence grinding his teeth, jumping out of the bed almsot throwing you off the mattress, once his cape unfastened he turns back to you– what? you think i'm gonna lay down all night in this?”

You just watched him as he moved around your room entering your closet as you shook off the scare, and procuring an oversized t-shirt grumbling to himself about ordering some loungewear, you watched him undress with your heart creeping up your throat, squeezing the duvet as your worst nightmares tease an entrance to reality, with each thud of his suit and clanking of gold your heart rate doubled in speed, he who had very much avoided touching most of you, could very much do so and you’d be powerless to stop him, he turns around throwing you a look of disbelief making you wonder if ‘mind-reading’ was a unpublicized skill of his.

Without his suit… he seemed more human than he had any right to be, his bright orange undies peeking under the old t-shirt with a pulled neck allowing you to see a handful of chest hairs creeping up, Homelander left you in the room heading out, his eyes examining that all cameras were in fact turn off and so were the microphones, stopping by a tacky painting of kittens in the hallway, tapping on the thick frame carefully.

“I was thinking I should have this place redecorated” He said loudly, his hand stroking the frame– bring it into the 21st century… What do you like– farmhouse chic… art deco? Altho your house was a mix-match of things.”

You jumped off the bed and followed him keeping distance as you tried to suppress your trembling hands.

“You’ve been to my house?”

“I was curious about you… you’ve been here 5 months and the doctors are surprised you haven’t… lost your mind.” He turns to you– altho you’ve been playing the music twice as loud as before”

“Is lonely in here…” You look away trying to figure out the best words you ought to say– you haven’t visited me in weeks”

“I told you. I’m busy– I have a movie… we are doing some re-shoots… the studio feels like they need a new direction and we needed a new post-credit scene so it ties up with The Deep’s next film and–” he bites his tongue– I should call… I’ll have a phone installed… but what can I do to make your stay here less lonesome.``

“Keep me company… at least downstairs I could see the other girls…” You look down– are they okay?”

“That whole thing has been shut down. No need for it to continue if I have you.” 

He didn’t expect to see that beam of light in your eyes, but then those lips of yours straightened for something sinister came into your mind.

“What happened to them?” Faces that were still fresh in your mind spoil– are they okay?”

“Who knows…” he shrugs with genuine indifference– oh don’t make that look! I didn’t make the order, I simply told them to close shop… I can find out if you want.”

Staring into his eyes for what could’ve been an eternity but you never answered, which seemed to please him, he stretched his hand asking for yours and in that darkened hallway he seemed to be its only shadow, you obeyed afraid of displeasing him punished with abandonment for another endless loop, his fingers are always so warm and soft around yours. 

“You don’t sleep very much do you? I used to sleep a lot when they left me alone… which wasn’t often” He squeezes your hand pulling you closer– you can talk to me, Y/N. I want to know…”

“You’ve been to my home… you should know why I don’t sleep much…” 

“I can’t… imagine what you’ve been thru… If I lost Ryan–”

“I accepted it. I think it just wasn’t my time or his time…” You cut him off– I don’t know ‘bout God’s plan or nuthin but I just accepted that maybe one day it be for me but not yet.”

Homelander gave you a half moon, glad to see how strong you’ve been, glad to know you could withstand his abuse… you continued to be a challenge.

That night you both laid in bed, cradling him in your arms watching him mumble loudly in his sleep, his eyes shifting wildly, you watch him fight in his nightmare as you thought of your own… of those women and the bottles, how your signatured had doomed them, you bit your lips and watched him until exhaustion ate you up.

Waking up with a kiss from the sun without ever experiencing a single nightmare, not even their faces haunt your sleep.

It made you ill to be so relieved.

He kept you company, watching movies and eating popcorn, lounging around forcing you to read books to him, you thought that this would all you two would do-- just lounge around and pretend you weren’t growing bored.

“Wanna go out for dinner?” 

Your ears perked up.

“I’ll go and tell them to get us some clothes, and we can go have dinner.”

“You mean outside?”

“Of course silly… you’ve been good, I think you deserve it.” He jumps off the couch, heading towards the metal door dragging his feet– you like chinese. I saw you had lots of take-out menus.”

“I would love to” You ran after him, hugging him– can we get Ice-cream too… afterwards?”

“I could always go for a milkshake.” He kissed your cheek– be a good girl and go get ready would ya?”

He faded into the other side, hearing those metal doors slide open filled you with joy, you had your chance, you were good, you did all that Homelander wanted of you, you listened to his endless ramblings and you gave him what he stole you for without complaint, and now he rewarded you, the gods had finally heard you.

This was your chance.

You would run to the cops, you would hide in the sewers, you would run until your feet were stumps if you had to but you would get out of here, away from him, away from his dollhouse.

You were so focused you didn't even register his sudden kiss until you started to undress in the bathroom, you touched your cheek wondering about why he'd done so.

You did as you were told and as your hair dried he came back bearing clothes from this century entering the bedroom as you stood covered with nothing but a towel, he came in an orange t-shirt and a navy jacket his sight on your face as if he had manners. It took you a few seconds to realize these were your clothes, washed and ironed, he threw them in the bed lingering for a few seconds before returning you some privacy.

“You look good” You smile feeling weird in your own clothes, nothing but a band t-shirt and your best jeans, he handed you a jacket that was definitely not yours but a matching one to his own– they told me there’s this bar you liked quite a bit”

“The Loose End?” you smiled, they knew you there, the bartender knew you by name, the regular waitress Liz knew you too, if he took you there you could find a way out– they’re cheap and the nachos are great… and they have live music every weekend.”

“It’s a date then.” 

For the first time you crossed those steel doors, those wall held a boring room, a set of desk littered here and there alongside filing cabinets, a young man in a lab coat handed Homelander something while you looked around everywhere this whole setup was nothing but a repurposed kitchen, a storage close, and the entry hall, two large windows let the light in allowing you to see the driveway, and more evergreen forest, there were no houses just road and bushes indeed this location was as desolated as initially suspected. Leaving through the front door you spotted a pair of bikes parked on the side, while the garage was closed. A random man dragged a trolley filled with peonies, your feet were trembling as you stepped on that welcome mat, the air was so chilly against your skin, so refreshing on cracking lips.

Grass… trees… clouds… nowhere to run, you looked at the bikes but never did you look for their keys five seconds ago.

“Are we getting an Uber?” You looked at him.

He took you by the waist, not giving you an answer before jumping straight into the heavens, there was a town to the east, a highway near it, before your words could leave your body, he pressed your face against his shoulder, it's a whistling sound singing in your ear as an insanely heavy weighted blanket slammed against you, this song kept playing cut abruptly by honking, your feet hit the ground and you could’ve sworn you’ve died he lets go of your head messin with your hair as you parted from this tight embrace, looking bemused.

“Am I alive?”

“There’s not a safer vehicle in the world than me.” He chuckles– you’re fine.”

Blinking hard you looked around and immediately recognized the street peeking from the end of the alleyway, your old apartment was 20 minutes from this place, you started moving without him.

Your neck snapped back as he took your arm, forcing you still.

“The restaurant is that way.”

He held your arm so tight your fingers tingle from numbness, interlocking elbows as he forced you into the street, to passerbys you were just another nameless couple, nobody gave you guys a second look, the afternoon light was beginning to fade behind tall buildings, you look at strangers pleading for them to notice something was off only to meet discomfort and indifference, people minded their business and in the busy street you two failed to stand out, you knew every street and in your silence you hoped to see familiar faces but nothing but strangers surrounded you both.

Both stopping at the entrance of a chinese restaurant, you’re sure you’d ordered from here before, the place is loud and there’s a TV set on the sports channel, it smells of fried rice and oil and you can hear the cook shouting in cantonese, he never lets you speak and the waitress is too busy talking to her coworker to care just telling you to sit anywhere you like.

He sits you in a booth on the corner away from the window almost hidden but able to see a good chunk of the people, the tv plays in the back but you can’t see it, your face is obscured by a beam, the more you look at the decour it strikes you as cheap and busy, lights dim and there wasn’t many people inside no doubt he picked this place for a reason.

“I feel like egg rolls and sweet and sour pork… you want noodles or rice?”

“Rice… with chicken… and…” You glance at the menu– scallion pancakes…”

Time moves like a dream, you count the exits, the number of waitresses, you hear the phone used for take-out orders but from your spot you can’t see the phone, you see the paper sign saying ‘toilet’ which could lead to an unseen exit, maybe into the kitchen, but as the entree arrived you knew you couldn’t run to your old home, you could run to the nearest metro station take the train anywhere, the direction made no difference you just had to find a cop… anything to save you.

As you force yourself to chew it dawns on you how Homelander has not spoken, turning to see him and he has a dry smile in his lips, his sight focused on the table on the furthest end of the room, the party grew louder you assumed they caught his attention annoyed by their presence or something in that vein.

Dishware clank and people spoke and baseball played but his attention was on them alone, you swore you could’ve run and he wouldn’t notice.

“Are you okay?” You spoke with the meekest tone you could muster– is there something wrong with the food?”

He scoots in his seat moving closer to the edge of table, this boot could’ve sat a party of five with ease so he left you with a lot of space and for a moment you felt as if he was about to just walk out but instead he looked at the empty spot then jerked his head towards the direction of the party.

“Is there a friend of yours there…?” You try to remain bubbly, finding his demeanor uneasy.

Following him you take his former spot but he doesn’t leave the boot, and then you see it.

The big thing he was staring at.

She was so thin that it looked bigger than it should, she was a tiny frail thing and the bump protruded out of her stomach violently. She sat back down, her grin so big and her laugh so chirpy as she rejoined the group.

The group too engrossed in each other to notice… to notice the crying woman on the other side of the dimly lit restaurant.

He seemed the same, his hair was the same, his beard was the same, his shirt was the one you bought him last christmas and he looked… happy… happy as he kissed this woman you’ve never seen, holding her hand, caressing her stomach, she didn’t need a name for you to despise what she meant, there it was your ex-husband who shouted at you about not being ready to be a father, your ex who showed up late to the funeral and didn’t stick around to comfort you, who never made it to the hospital visits more than twice, here he was happy.

Looking at a young thing carrying the baby he did want.

Just like he never looked at you.

“Am so happy you’re having a little girl!” The older woman who sat across from him said– after everything that happened I'm just elated for you Eric.”

You heard your mother’s voice with so much clarity.

“After Y/N I never thought I would find somebody but I think she would’ve been happy for us. I’m just glad you guys are doing okay after everything…”

“It’s hard but you are still family and we can be happy for you and your sweet little girl”

You watched him comfort your mother, the way he talked about you as if he meant it.

When did he ever mean it? Did he find remorse in his heart after you were gone or was it to brush away the accusations.

‘Who would you run to?’ that voice in your head asked, your family was right there, your dad, your mom, a mutual friend of you both, your ex– they were all there but they didn’t see you, the more you focused on their words, the way they mentioned your name as if it made them feel icky.

“I was thinking of naming her after Y/N, I know she meant a lot to Eric and had we not met at that support group–

You ran off the booth, rushing to the bathroom, you’re sure somebody looked at you as the plates rattled, Homelander gave you a glance but didn’t follow you.

Slamming the door behind you, in that ugly cramped bathroom you screamed into your knees, every fiber of your body recoiled, tightening around your chest, you stayed there until your own sobs hurt your throat and your eyes itched from salt.

Staring at your swollen eyes and red nose you washed away what you could, nausea still lingered robbing you off your appetite.

The door opened and there was no red, white and blue suited supe, just a hall with faded pictures and a storage closet, walking not knowing what to find, not wanting to be seen.

He was still in the booth, happily waiting on you with a bag of leftovers propped on the table.

“Let’s go home…” You whispered, your throat hoarse.

“Home? Where is that?” he grins

“Home… take me home… please…”

He stares at the party who are now sharing their final drinks and readying to leave.

You sit on the edge pushing him into the booth, forcing him to pay attention to you and not those behind, maybe it was because he was Homelander that you kissed him, that you had the attention of a more enviable man than Eric ever was that you kissed him in front of him  and your family, maybe it was because it felt good, his thin lips soft and delicate against yours, it was  quick thing, his shock was palpable in the nervousness of his kiss was cute, but it felt good… for once something felt good again.

“Let’s go Homelander… I don’t wanna be here anymore…”

His lips pressed against your cheek before lifting himself, making sure to cover your sight as you both left the building turning away from the window as the party began to gather their things, he stopped for a second after walking for a few minutes.

“I just need to text Ashley something before I forget… work stuff” You didn’t care.

He typed slowly with his index instead of his thumbs which made you cringe a little.

“All good. You sure you don’t wanna go watch a gig, we don’t have to go back home.” He said softly.

“My tits hurt.” His eyes light up at the lie– unless you wanna have a sippy in the toilets before the show stars to help me out here”

“... I… I do…” 

If he blushed any harder he’d be a stop light, you smiled unable to stop chuckling at his stupid face.

“Didn’t peg you for the kind of guy to get freaky in the bathroom of a dingy bar… guess America’s son does have a real kinky side to him.”

“You have no idea darling… do you have a kinky side perhaps?”

“Fuck me.” Her stomach popped into your head, his hand caressing her bulge played on loop, his disgusting smile, all of him played all around you, memories of his touch burnt your skin, everybody had his disgusting mug on their faces– and find out.”

He took your hand and started walking faster, throwing away the bag of takeout into the lap of the first homeless person he’d seen.

The woman looked at Eric as he said goodbye to your parents, her phone buzzed, turning around to hide her screen, a text message from with a receipt for 25,000 dollars deposited on her account, as well as a doctor’s appointment booking.

She signed with relief.

“Understood.” she texted back.

[feyhunter78]

the way your jon snow fic has the most VICOUS hold on me. like i love it so much you have no idea. please please add me to that tag list! also whens the next part coming out i beg to know.

I can do that, and I'll do ya one better and drop the next chapter right here!!!!!

Chapter Eleven - Another marriage, and now a few moons later Queen Margaery has settled into her throne and it is time to celebrate her nameday with yet another feast, this time in Highgarden.

Ch 12

When your Uncle Jamie—really your only uncle now, as your Uncle Robert is long dead—slips back inside your aunt’s solar, he seems different, withdrawn, and pensive. You blame it on the death of his eldest child, wishing to not worry about whatever he and Jon spoke of. Though you know he is not so broken up about Joffrey’s death, he never truly liked the boy.

Your aunt is calm now, only a few stray tears and sniffles, Tommen curled in her lap. Your grandsire sitting in a chair his back ramrod straight, your father standing by your side as you lean against the table, your eyes on the large windows overlooking the Keep.

“We must uncover the assassins and hold a proper funeral for the king.” Your aunt says, her arms wrapped tightly around Tommen.

“We must write to Myrcella first; she needs to know of Joffrey’s death from us, not strangers.” You argue.

“No, we must secure the safety of all members of the royal family.” Your uncle says, his arms folded across his chest.

Your grandsire sighs. “You are all wrong, first we must arrange for Lady Margaery to marry Tommen and place Tommen on the throne, we cannot waste time, every second he does not sit on the Iron Throne more schemes to take it from him are hatched.”

“He is barely half her age.” Cersei protests.

You look at your father, this must be part of the plan, though you do not understand how, it must be. Besides, Tommen is a sweet boy, he will not harm her, nor will Margaery harm him.

“Grandsire is right, we cannot allow the Tyrells to slip from our fingers.” You say, earning a look of approval from your grandsire, one you so rarely get.

So now you stand in the crowd once more, dressed less lavishly than you were for Joffrey’s wedding, watching as Tommen and Margaery say their vows. The affair is duller, quieter, Margaery of course looks beautiful, but you cannot find it in yourself to be joyous. Your father has not explained how this is part of the plan. The wedding has happened, the vows were said, how is she to marry Robb while Tommen still lives? Perhaps an annulment? It would make sense; Tommen is far too young; no bedding will happen until he is of age. But it does not make sense in terms of succession.

You wring your hands, trying to piece together some way Robb can take the throne while Tommen still lives. Then the ceremony is over, the feasting and dancing commences, and Tommen seems…happy. That is truly all you want for him, happiness, but there is a cloud hanging over you that you cannot shake.

As you disperse with the rest of the crowd, a tall, dark-haired, olive-skinned man steps into your view, his fine clothing colorful and cut in a distinct fashion.

“Lady y/n, may I have this dance?” Lord Oberyn Martell extends his hand, and you take it, giving him a gracious smile.

Myrcella has written of Oberyn, of his quick wit, of the way he dotes on his daughters, how he cares greatly for nieces and nephews, and though he still holds her at a distance he is not unkind to her. Despite all that she still warns you to be wary of him, that he earned the name Red Viper for a reason.

The song is familiar, the steps easy, and you fall in line with the other dancers, gliding and turning on beat, the melodious strings accompanied by clear toned woodwinds invoking the image of young lovers enjoying a spring day.

“Your cousin speaks highly of you.” Lord Oberyn says, his words far more accented than Jon’s, but still clear as day.

“I do miss her.” You twirl then return within his arm’s reach.

“Trystane takes good care of her I can assure you; I have never seen a young man more smitten than him” There is a look on his face, one of mischief, and he gracefully inclines his head towards Jon. “Though your White Wolf could put up a fair fight.”

“He is devoted, as a sworn sword should be.” You say nonchalantly, before attempting to turn the conversation back to Myrcella.

Oberyn stops you, dipping you low, a devilish smile on his handsome face directed towards someone you cannot see, though you imagine it is Jon. “If that is the case, then perhaps, I shall take your aunt up on her offer of further betrothals in Dorne.”

You stumble, catching the Dornish prince’s foot with the edge of your heel. “My apologies, My Lord.”

“No harm done; I expected such a reaction.”

“I think it would be best to speak with my father, not my aunt, if you wish to marry me to one of your nephews or cousins.” You say primly, curtsying to him once the dance has finished.

He presses your hand to his lips. “And if I wished to marry you myself? Would I still need to speak with your father.”

Your face burns and you snatch your hand away. “You have daughters younger than me, Prince Oberyn, and I do not think their mother would take kindly to another woman attempting to take her place. Nor would I want to. I mean no offense, but I cannot enter a marriage where I must share my husband, especially not when the other woman has had him first.”

He laughs, the sound warm, banishing the tension from the air around you, lifting the weight from your shoulders. It reminds you a little of how Jon laughs, the comfort it brings. Is this how all Dornish men laugh? If so, you can understand why Lyanna and Myrcella did not find it hard to fall for their own Dornish lovers.

“She would not, but she will appreciate your words.” He takes your hand gently, kissing it once more, then releasing you.

You give him a smile and gracefully take the arm of your next partner, then the next one then the next one, until finally Jon is able to steal you away, leading you back to your father.

“I have just turned down Oberyn Martell’s proposal, Father, I wished to let you know.” You say, a weary smile on your face as you slump in the chair next to him.

“Oh, did you? How bold these Dornish are, asking a girl for her hand without first consulting with her father.” Your father says, a ghost of a grin on his lips.

Jon stiffens from his place behind you.

“I reminded him he has daughters younger than me. Also, that I would not share my husband, it is too…unsavory for me, though of course I did not phrase it so.”

Your father snorts. “You told the Red Viper that you will not play the whore in your own marriage?”

You can hear Jon shifting his weight, and he hates when others use what he deems foul language in your presence. Though, you always remind him that Theon had given you quite the course in how to speak as a proper sailor does.

“No, I said I would not like to take the place of another woman.” You take a cube of cheese from his plate and pop it in your mouth. “Though perhaps I should have said lions are far too possessive to ever share their mates.” You catch sight of Jon in your peripheral and flash him a teasing smile.

He clears his throat and looks away, his arms clasped behind his back.

Jon has been oddly distant since the night of Joffrey’s death, and you fear it has more to do with whatever your uncle said to him than the death of the so-called king.

“Do you not think I spoke right, Ser Jon?” You ask, unable to resist drawing him into the conversation, though you know he would rather not participate.

“I think it is dishonorable to take more than one wife, or to have a mistress. It sullies not only the marital bed, but the house itself.” He says, his posture stiff, his words stilted.

You frown and your father shrugs before handing you another cheese cube.

The Roseroad toward Highgarden is well-kept, guards and small towns scattered along the winding road, the countryside lush and brimming with life. The air is cleaner here, sweet smelling compared to the unwashed filth that permeates the air of King’s Landing, and you are once again thankful that no one allowed your Aunt Cersei to take her gargantuan wheelhouse on this trip.

You are divided into smaller groups, within smaller wheelhouses, with windows that allow air to flow through. Your aunt is in one with her ladies, your father, uncle, and Tommen ride their horses alongside the guards, while you and Margaery were able to snag a wheelhouse to yourselves. Margaery claims she needs the extra space to prepare for her nameday festivities, and no one could deny their queen.

“We are a few hours out from my home, I cannot wait to show you the grounds, they are especially beautiful this time of year.” Margaery says, looking out the window, her face lit with a radiant smile.

It has been a few moons since her wedding to Tommen, and you have grown closer to the older girl, you and she are in fact Tommen’s favorite people and in turn spend much time together with or without him.

“I have heard tales, but I am sure words cannot compare.” You say, joining her at the window as she points out places she used to ride to with her brothers.

After a while of you two quietly enjoying the countryside, Margaery clears her throat delicately.  “Speaking of words.” She draws back from the window and pulls the curtain closed. “Have you heard anything from our dear redheaded friend?”

You scoot closer to her, lowering your voice to a whisper. “She writes to say that all is well, her home has fallen back into routine and regrets she is unable to attend the celebrations but holds out hope she will see us soon.”

“And what about…” Robb, she means Robb, she wishes to know if he thinks of her.

You reach into your satchel and dig out a letter, “I had been hoping to save it as a nameday present, but I guess I could give it to you now.”

After her and Tommen’s wedding your father roped you into secreting letters between Margaery and Robb, the seals were Hawthorne coming in, and Lannister going out. In truth, it made you feel part of a romantic story, playing the kind maid that helps the young lovers sneak away to be together.

Margaery rips open the letter and devours it, a soft smile on her face, her hand coming to cover her lips as her eyes begin to water.

“What, what did he say?” You ask, suddenly alarmed by the tears in your friend’s eyes.

She hands the letter to you, “he—he is so sweet.”

My dearest Lady Margaery,

I cannot tell you how delighted I still am each time your letters arrive, though I must admit my joy is dimmed by the continued reminder that you are wed to another. That I cannot speak freely of my affections for you. I know it is in name only, and that I should not be envious of a child no more than eight nearly nine namedays, but I am. To think that I, a man grown, is envious of a child for the mere fact that he is allowed to hold your hand. That he is allowed to call your name, to dance with you, it is shameful, but I would bear this shame and many others for you. There will come a day soon that we will be united, that I will take your hand and let all the realm know that you are not only my queen, but my heart’s desire.

I shall not drag on with sentiment lest I embarrass myself, so I will get to the meat of this letter. Sansa informed me it is to be your nameday soon, and that you will be traveling to Highgarden to celebrate. Part of me wished to set out for Highgarden the moment she said so, surely, I would be able to disguise myself well enough, but Sansa squashed that scheme quite quickly. Nevertheless, I am hopeful that Lady y/n will be able to present you with my gift. And if it is not too forward, I would ask that you wear it during the celebrations, and know that I am with you, that you carry my heart in your hands.

I have had your latest portrait replicated, made smaller, and set within a locket so that I might carry it around wherever I go. Theon teases me quite mercilessly about it, but I care not. While we are parted, I wish to do all I can to keep your visage beside me. The curve of your smile, the light in your eyes, and the soft blush that adorns your cheeks, they give me strength, and I will draw on them until we meet, and I no longer need drawn or painted images.

The Gods smiled upon the realm the day you were born, and I swear to you, when we are finally together, I will spend every moment I can making up for our time apart, especially your namedays.

-          Ever yours, Robb

“This is quite sweet; he has a way with words I would not expect.” You say, handing her the letter back.

“Why would he not? Even the way Jon spoke to you when he helped you into the wheelhouse was full of passion.” She bristles, holding the letter close to her chest.

You need only call for me, I will not be far. Perhaps have Ghost stay with you, it would ease my mind. He had said, before trying to force a very resistant Ghost into the wheelhouse. You thanked him but told him to let Ghost run free, knowing the direwolf would grow bored on the long journey.

You reach out and squeeze her hand. “I meant no offense, it is only that Jon has spent much time here, and Robb has not. I imagined they would speak differently, but it seems there is a hidden romantic streak in House Stark.”

She smiles, a pretty blush decorating her face, then she smooths out her expression and holds out her hand with the air of a queen. “My gift please?”

“Of course, My Queen.” You say, bowing your head ridiculously far as you hand her the small velvet bag.

She pulls the drawstrings open, gasping as she carefully pulls out the gift. It is a necklace made of gold and citrine, arranged in an elegant yet sturdy way, the gems draping down, the gold perfect and glowing against Margaery’s skin. “It is as he has described Grey Wind’s eyes.”

“Is there anything else?” You ask curiously, smiling as she holds it up to her chest once more.

She digs in the bag and finds a golden ring, engraved with the letters M and R in curling script, hidden within the rose emblem.

You hold out your hand for it, and she gives it to you. You fiddle with the edge of it until it pops open. Inside reveals a small, detailed portrait of a bright blue eye. “I wondered if he would go through with it.”

“Is that his?” Margaery asks, tracing the edges of the ring longingly.

“From what I remember it is, and Tommen also has blue eyes, so if anyone discovers it, they will be none the wiser.

She carefully replaces the gifts in their bag, and you feel a pang of sadness. You cannot imagine what she must feel like, married to a child, in love with a man she must keep secret, unable to even pretend they are merely friends, unable to freely send him letters.

A knock on the wheelhouse door pulls you from your thoughts. “My Queen, My Lady, we have nearly arrived.”

Highgarden is beyond beautiful, set upon a hill overlooking the Mander, built with clean white stone, and narrow towers that seem to scrape the clouds. Rows and rows of briar hedges, fields of flowers, and works of art tastefully scattered about the halls and grounds, complete the fairy tale look of the Tyrell’s castle, and you cannot wait to see more.

“And you must see the Three Singers, our Godswood is known throughout the realm for its beauty.” Margaery says, as the wheelhouse finally grinds to a halt and the door is pulled open.

“Sister,” Loras says, holding out his hand to her. “Welcome home.”

Margaery takes his hand, gracefully exiting the wheelhouse, her excitement radiating from her like rays of the sun. Then Loras goes to help you, but Jon’s hand is already there.

“My Lady, the Dowager Queen requires a word with you.” Jon says, his face unreadable, his eyes never lingering on you for too long.

“Thank you, Ser Jon, I will go to her once we have settled into our chambers.”

You sit and wait for your aunt, fiddling with your sleeves, birdsong, and the sound of harps playing floats in through the open window.

She sweeps in, head held high, and closes the window, plunging the room into dead quiet. “I know your father has been lenient with you since your poor mother died, but as your aunt, the only motherly figure in your life, I can no longer stand by and watch you waste away your future.”

“Beg pardon?”

She takes your hands, her expression soft, caring, one you have not seen since you were a little girl. “Y/N, we must find you a husband, a good man, who will provide for you, for your children.”

“Father said—”

“I know your father has filled your head with stories of freedom, and true love, but that is for children, and you have not been a child for some time now.” She takes the seat across from you, her ruby gown looking harsh and garish among the soft colors and fabrics of the guest chamber she has been given.

“You are right, I am no longer a child.” You agree, trying to give her an answer that betrays nothing of true value.

She brushes your cheek with her knuckles, her eyes looking for something, in your own. “Your mother was a great beauty, with a kind heart, far too kind. I do not want you making the same mistake she did. Not that you are a mistake, my darling girl, you are the only worthwhile thing that has ever come from my brother, but your mother did not examine her prospects wisely enough.”

“I do not have any prospects.” You tell her, torn between feeling comforted and wounded by her words.

“At tomorrow night’s feast there will be many lords from all across the realm, and you will dance with them, you will talk and flatter, and laugh at their jests even if they are not humorous.”

“But if I dance with so many, how will I know who is good?”

She gives you a smile and smooths down your hair. “Allow me to take care of that, I want you to enjoy yourself, and show the realm how delightful you are.”

“I will try.” You say, giving her a weak smile, hoping she believes it is born of nerves and not a complete lack of interest.

“You will do more than try, you will succeed.”

TL: @mostclevermiss, @solacestyles, @2valentines, @sharknutz, @idohknow, @bdudette, @pluraldoggo, @legolastheleafyelf, @faerie-film

[kagakuoniryu]

Part 2 of the alastor x reader I written when I wasn't feeling well at all

Summary : a new guest you knew from your past life arrive at the hotel, she was that one person who bullied you throigh high school, but she mooks too angelic to be guilty

Code : E/n (ennemy/name)

Tags : fem reader, etablished relationship, angst for the most part, there will maybe be a part 2, mentions of bullying, reader is TRAUMATIZED, english is not my first language, may have some inaccuracy about the show since I'm just projecting, and of course probably ooc characters

After that talk in alastor's room, you hardly left yours limiting contact with everyone...

Well, mostly everyone, nifty still passed by everyday to clean up a bit and chase the boug, you were thankful for it, she didn't treated you differently, she was the same sadistic, boys driven, bug hater lady you met, and you could talk her ears off

"Niff ? What do you think about E/n ?" You started warily, you never openly talked to her about it surprisinly until now

"Oh I hate her !"

Shocked you asked her to go on ; E/n, hated ? The E/n you knew...Well...she presented to others ?!

"Why is that ? Did something went wrong ? Did she hurt you ?!"

"She always interrupt my dead roack show ! She says it's weird and disgusting ! She even killed a roach before I could and that is an heinous crime"

You gulped, noting mentally that to stay in nifty's good side, you better let her kill the roaches herself

"But...isn't it weird how everyone like her ? And how they think she's genuinely nice ? Even alastor likes her !"

"And everyone likes alastor until they he shows his nature !" With that nifty finally stabbed that roach she was after

"You...have a good point...she's showing them what they want to gain what she wants...but...what does she wants...?"

"I don't know ! I have a lot of cleaning to do ! Goodbye !"

"Wait nifty !"

And the door was closed, you sighed, well...it was good for as long as it lasted you guessed...you needed a plan, but you couldn't think clearly in this hotel...you couldn't go to Rosie too...she ADORED E/n and they had their regular tea party...crashing to your friends place weren't use at all, one they adored her, two, it was still the hotel and three, since your words with angel you kinda ghosted them all, thinking they couldn't hurt yiu if you ghosted them before that ; your fiancee radio station maybe ? No, too obvious, and he spend all his goddamn time up there...and he isn't the exact definition of "privacy"...you thought for a second about mimzy, but that girl hated your guts for no reason...or well...maybe because alastor humiliated her last time...

Finally, a bell rang in your head ; alastor ! That's your solution ! He gave you a spare key of his actual house outside of the hotel, and he barely goes there since he is in his tower during the day and at the hotel at night !

Picking minimal stuff, just a few clothes, a notepad and a pencil, even leaving your proposal ring behind, not wznting to be distracted by alastor himself you rushed outside, surprising everyone in the lobby until you came crashing down into alastor

"My, my, my dear, someone here is in a rush"

"Uh yeah...I needed fresh air, you know, the old stuff, figured I could go camping ?"

Alastor's gaze darkened as he looked at your ring finger, well, lack of ring on your ring finger

"And does camping prevent you from wearing you ring ? Or perhaps you youngster has a different definitiln of camping that back in my day, because decades ago, men could hunt even with they wedding ring, and yet you can't sleep with it on ?"

"I just wanted some alone time, calm down al' if anything, send a shadow my way kf you don't trust me, I know you don't anyway for a few weeks now"

Without letting him finish you left the hotel, you almost feel pity to charlie, she'll have a very pissy alastor in her hands until you come back

Arriving at alastor's home you let yourself in, now you needed to brainstorm !

One hour...

Two hours...

Three hours...

Three hours and about 3 cups of tea in...you have little next to nothing for an idea...how the hell are you gonna show this pest real face ?! You needed a real confrontation with her, but she'll never gave it to you, and if she did, she would have a backup plan, just like when you were alive...alive...

That's it !

One of your imps friend that owe you one could go to the living world ! He could retrieve your phone and you could prove your point !

Getting everything ready, and after many days, the phone in your hands, you plugged it in for it to charge and once at 100 % your rushed to the hotel

"Guys ! I got my phone back I-"

Entering the hotel, they were all playing a board game together, not caring about where you went...but you've been gone for at least a good week or two now...did you mattered so little ?

"O-oh...Y/n...you're here ! We...uh...were playing monopoly ! You...wanna join us ?"

Charlie tried akwardly, chukling nervously at your empty expression

"No, I was happy to prove my point, but I guess it's no use, she is better than me anyway, charlie, I guess you can take an other sinner in...I quit the hotel..."

You missed the way her eyes showed her heartbreak at this sight of you, giving up, she really failed you this time ; as you went upstair to make your bags, the boarding game night was ruined, and alastor teleported right into your room

"Hello ma chère (my dear), may I know where you're planning on going ?"

"I don't know al, far ? You all won it, always pushing me to the side, y'all fucking won it"

"I believe such swearing isn't proper in a ladie's mout-"

"Well for once I'll fucking swear if I'll fucking please al ! Because none of you wwants to believes in me ! You knew me long her and you choose her ! Just...go and date her ! It's her speciality to just date whoever has been with me before anyway..."

"What do you mean...? Y/n...?"

No terms of endearment there, that was rare for alastor, even before you both started dating he was affectionnate and using pet names, he always does with women, just a way to make them feel appreciated

"What do you mean 'what do I mean' you didn't knew how my ex boyfriend cheated on me with her and that's why we stopped being friends ?!"

"No, actually...she told us the other way around, that she found her perfect someone...and that you tried to seduce him and flirt with him and when he exposed you you bullied her"

"Bullied her ?! She made my life hell before getting down here ! After I blocked her everywhere she used our common friend she turned against me or even her sister's social media to stalk me down !"

"Well, my dear, I do want to believes you, you know I love you, but I can't without proper proof"

Taking your phone's out of your pocket, and guiding alastor because of his obvious lack of modern technology skills, you showed him your call journal from that time, the recording, the screenshots, everything that proved you were in your right mind

"Well...my beloved, it seems I owe you an apology, with her honey words it seems I lowered my guard and lacked dicernment, could you forgive me ?"

Alastor put in hand gently on your cheek, lifting your face, you nuzzled against his hand before hugging him tight

"Apology accepted...and thank you...thank you so much for listening, even if it costed you to use modern technology"

"As long as you delete that picture I took by accident"

"I'll make it my wallpaper~"

"I'll rip this thing piece by piece"

Going downstairs with alastor was a relief, like a gentleman he offered his arms for you to hold onto as charlie jumped on you

"I'm SOOOO sorry to have neglected your feeling Y/n please !! I didn't mean to ! You were a good friend of all of us and would all feel awful if you were to really leave !!" She started, before being interrupted by alastor

"Well, my dear charlie, it seems someone is still leaving, but not our dear Y/n, someone who's suprisingly not that keen on getting redeemed it seems"

You saw E/n visibly tense as alastor grabs her rather forcefully

"Could you PLEASE tell all the others persons present here what happened between you and my lovely Y/n over here back when you were alive"

"I...I already told you didn't I...? She bullied me ! Y/n is just a mean bully and I always felt uneasy around her" E/n tried to defend herself, nervously sweating

"Really, care to explain this ? My dear best friend" you showed one of the most incriminating piece you had on your phone to the others, making their eyes go wide, and all fell into pieces, E/n wasn't trying to redeem, she was trying to ruin your life, all over again

She felt that for some reasons, many years ago, you were better than her, and that she needed what you had, by any mean and any ways, instead of finding her own hapiness she wanted to steal yours

Vaggie and alastor both kicked her out, charlie tried to say maybe she could be redeemed, but when alastor said that if he saw that girl put a foot near the hotel again he would turn her into jambalaya for everyone to eat...she was feeling rather discouraged

But that was okay, one bad sinners couldn't stray her from her dream ! Everyone in the hotel also apologized in their own way for not believing you and putting back through all your traumas all over again, and of course you forgave them

Alastor also made you a special contract this night, you could pet his ears, all night long, if the next day you didn't told the others about it

And of course you took the deal

~THE END~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well, I don't know if this one was longer or shorter than the previous part, I went along with the random imp going back on earth as an easter egg of helluva boss and also because I was stuck in my story !

It's nice to have a catharsis like this to be honest, I don't know if I'll write request or just silly story in one or multiple parts for hazbin hotel you can still send some in if yoj feel like it, just know that I'd be delighted to write for alastor again, he's my all time fav of the show

I hope you enjoyed it !!!

[kakushino]

Number 10, sickeningly sweet fluff, Kyojuro, SFW. Perhaps the first confession, was my first thought, but I leave it to your masterful discretion 🤲

𝖄𝖔𝖚’𝖗𝖊 𝖘𝖔 𝖘𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖙, 𝖆𝖗𝖊𝖓’𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚?

𝟷𝟶𝟶𝟶 𝔣𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫𝔱

AN: Does this count as confession? Idk but it was forced into my brain by the voices. No beta we die like Sabito

APOLOGIES - I answered the wrong ask! This is the one I was supposed to answer ( @glitchtricks94 ):

I will be writing your ask soon though :(( I'm sorry again

The flowers were numerous in front of you, every colour of the rainbow, and some of them even more, and you had to take a few moments to think what you wanted to pick. The shop owner was busy with another customer - something about a wedding? - so you had plenty of time to contemplate.

Roses, a classic, with variety of meanings depending on the shade. A blue one for his uniqueness, or a bold red to state your feelings clearly? Neither felt exactly right.

The damp thick smell of flowers permeating the shop was so Kyojuro that you could never pass by a flower shop and not think about him.

There was a sunflower - last of its batch - in one of the vases. It still hasn't hit the full bloom, but the colour of it reminded you of Kyojuro's hair. The little description said it represented long life and good luck, best to gift to a family member! It wasn't exactly what you were going for though.

A glance told you he was about wrapping up with the other person, making you pressed for time. A bright flash of red and yellow caught your eye. You plucked the flower from its vase, nearly overtaken by the gerberas, which is why you hadn't seen it at first.

The tiger lily in your hand reminded you strongly of him - his hair and the openness of his heart. The tag said wealth, prosperity and good fortune.

He deserved that, he deserved only the best.

"Hello!" Kyojuro's cheerful voice cut through your thoughts, and you nearly jumped out of your skin.

"Rengoku! I nearly got a heart attack!"

His cheerful laughter reverberated through your body, warming you to the core. This is how he should be - smiling, happy, content.

"Apologies! I didn't mean to cause you any harm! I was simply happy to see you today," his grin was as bright as him. Warmth flooded your cheeks. He had no idea how charming he was.

You were on a mission however, and you had to get to it before you lost your nerve. "Ah, could I please make this into something beautiful?" you showed him the tiger lily you picked, and his expression gentled.

"Right away." He took it, beaming. "Any occasion you want it for?"

You followed him to the counter, butterflies in your belly. "It's for someone special."

You didn't see the way his expression faltered as he added leaves and embellishing flowers to the lily. He hummed as he worked, his forearms flexing and drawing your eyes to his figure.

The small bouquet was breath-taking. A red and yellow framed by green and white, a beautiful arrangement for a beautiful man.

Paying quickly, you admired the flowers in your hands, your nerves set ablaze with anxiety, your face feeling hot as you tried to find courage.

You took a deep breath and met his eyes head on. "This is for you, Rengoku." You offered the arrangement to him.

His stunned expression was something you won't forget for a long while, as was the blush quickly rising to his face, the tips of his ears nearly glowing red.

The moment passed and a warm startled laughter left his lips. You smiled brightly at that.

"You're so sweet, aren't you?" His grin made you fall in love with him all over again.

[starryevermore]

the house of snow (26) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board| ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his. 

chapter summary: you are not doing well without coriolanus, nor is he without you.

word count: 1,177

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later

chapter warnings?: angsty, giving coryo the silent treatment, dual povs, not proofread

You ran a hand down your bump. You were showing more nowadays, but Coriolanus had no idea. Since you moved to the other side of the palace, you did your best to ensure your path never crossed with your husband’s. You did not eat with him, you did not sit with him in the office, and you did not go to your library. The physician was under strict orders to not let him sit in on a single appointment. (Both you and the physician pretended you did not see the shadows of his shoes slip in under the doorway. Coriolanus was always gone before you left, anyways.) 

Though it was all of your own design, it was strange for Coriolanus to not be around. When you pushed him away during your courtship, as well as after the wedding, he clung to you. He sought you out. There was no getting rid of him. But this…This was different. For once, he was respecting your wishes. You weren’t sure how to feel about that. 

Perhaps you had taken for granted that Coriolanus would always be by your side. But Coriolanus took a lot for granted, too. 

Knock! Knock!

It was one o’clock. Just like clockwork, a butler would arrive with a couple new books for you to read. The Peacekeeper stationed at your door would knock to alert you, the butler would enter and set the books on your vanity, then you would be left alone all over again. This little routine was some of the most human contact you would have in the entire day. If it was not your books, it was your meals. If it was not your meals, it was the physician. 

This was all of your own doing, but it stung nonetheless. 

You could end this all. You could go back to Coriolanus, tell him you missed him and that you won’t go to the cottage, and it would all be water under the bridge. But then Coriolanus might never see what was wrong with how he had been treating you—how he had iced you out first. Yes, it was out of concern for your wellbeing. He was so sure he was going to lose you in childbirth. But, even if he did, he was wasting his time with you while you were here. He was losing out on this magical time. 

But, fuck, you were so lonely. 

You wished there was someone you could talk to. You couldn’t inundate the physician with your personal problems. And the staff were employed by Coriolanus—nothing you said to them could be kept secret. There was, perhaps, the painter, but he might just keel over if you told him what was happening between the Queen and King. Maybe you could tell Clemensia or Livia, if you wanted the news to spread all over the Capitol.

You were alone. 

The butler slipped inside your chambers. You watched from the settee as he crossed over to your vanity, carrying a sliver tray. He set the books down, and you expected him to leave. Yet, he reached onto the tray again and set a pile of letters down, too. That was new.  As he left, you hurried to your vanity. What was happening? Who would write to you now? When you saw the sender, though, it all made sense.

Sejanus Plinth.

Maybe you weren’t so lonely after all. 

You shoved the letters to the side, took out a fresh sheet of paper, and inked your quill. Coriolanus might never forgive you for what you were going to do. Maybe you could never forgive him for pushing you away during your pregnancy. Which was the bigger sin? Did it matter if everyone in the house of Snow was going to burn anyways? 

Dear Sejanus, you wrote, I have missed you. 

Coriolanus stared at your door. Every time your butler entered your chambers, Coriolanus waited outside. He hoped to hear your voice, to maybe catch a glimpse of your face as the door opened. He never got it. Coriolanus had not seen you in weeks, and it beginning to wear on him. He wanted to respect your need for space, but the cost that accompanied it…It was going to kill him, he was sure. At least he got to hear your voice when he stood outside of the physician’s office during your appointments. At least he got to hear you were okay. You had ordered your staff and the physician to not tell Coriolanus a single thing about you, and they had listened. Loyal bastards. 

He could not fault them, of course. You easily inspired loyalty. But when it came at his expense, it made him want to throw a fit like a petulant child. 

If he wanted you back, if he wanted you by his side, all he had to do was go into your chambers and grovel for your forgiveness. To tell you he will work on his protectiveness, that he will happily join you in the cottage. That he wants to be the kind of parent he never got to experience himself. Coriolanus would sink to his knees, weep into your skirts, if it meant you would stop this.

The door opened, and Coriolanus’s heart leapt. It was never you, but he always hoped it would. The butler made eye contact with him as he shut the door. Coriolanus tried peering around, hoping to see you. He didn’t. 

“Is she well?” he asked, voice low. Coriolanus wasn’t sure if you would be upset at hearing his voice. You had asked for space. How far was he supposed to go? 

The butler hesitated. He glanced between the two Peacekeepers stationed on either side of your door, as if one of them might strike him if he said the wrong thing. None of them were supposed to tell Coriolanus anything about you. 

“She looked as though she had been crying, Your Majesty,” the butler finally said. 

Coriolanus’s heart sank. No. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He did not delight in your pain—pain that he was causing. But, at least that meant you missed him. That maybe you would let him back into your good graces. 

“Did she say anything?”

The butler shook his head. “She rarely does. Most days she looks more like a ghost.” Then, as if he realized he offered too much, the butler said, “If you’ll excuse me, Your Majesty.”

Coriolanus nodded, watching as the butler disappeared down the hall. Once he was out of sight, the King turned his attention to the Peacekeepers. Unlike the butler, they ignored him. Stared straight ahead, pretended they didn’t hear Coriolanus’s questions about your wellbeing. 

Finally, Coriolanus left. But as he returned the office he once shared with you, he was determined to have you by his side again. He would not let his actions turn you into a ghost. He would not let neither you nor him deprive the other of company. 

He would not lose you. He refused to let it happen. 

[adverbally]

In Vain I Have Struggled

Written for the @steddieangstyaugust prompt “Right Person, Wrong Time” | wc: 492 | rated: G | cw: N/A | tags: regency AU, historical fiction, epistolary, apologies and love confessions, period-typical compulsory heterosexuality, lavender marriage, hopeful ending | title from Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

———

May 18, 1814

My dearest Edward,

I regret to inform you of my happy news by writing, but your uncle refused me entry upon my last attempt to call. I am to be married to Miss Buckley in the fall. You are of course acquainted with her, so you will know that this is not a love match. Surely you also know that I would never wed for love unless, somehow, it could be to you. Still, I am grateful to secure her companionship over any other woman’s, and we are immensely relieved that our parents have consented to the match.

All news aside, Edward, I must sincerely apologize for my abhorrent behavior towards you at the Wheelers’ ball. I have thought of nothing else for the past fortnight. It was terrible to see you across the room at the Hendersons’ dinner and not be able to speak with you, but perhaps it was for the best. It is much easier to write to you, as I have the time to be deliberate in my words so I do not come to regret another conversation with you.

Now I will tell you what I should have said to you that evening: that I love you with a breadth and depth which I have never experienced before. I am was frightened of the intensity of my feelings for you and what they would mean for us, and that is why I left with such haste when you confessed how you felt. If I could not comprehend my own emotions, I had no hope of understanding yours. The combination of both threatened to overwhelm me.

I am so very sorry that I could not muster the courage to tell you that I love you sooner. I fear that I have ruined our friendship irreparably with my cowardice. I have broken your trust and hurt you deeply, and I will regret that for the rest of my days. But I do not will never regret the time we spent together and the way you made me feel.

I do not know if you will read this letter or if you will, rightfully, cast it into the fire unopened, but I would never forgive myself if I did not attempt to right the wrong I committed. I wish that we lived in a kinder, freer time where we could openly love one another, but society’s disapproval will never change the fact that I love you with my whole being.

I will return to London with my parents at the end of the season and by September I shall be wed. However, you and your family will always be welcome in my home, whether it be in Hawkington or London. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I would invite you and Miss Cunningham to visit at your earliest convenience. Robin and I will both be glad to see you.

Yours always,

Steven

[utilitycaster]

actually taking the last bit out of the tags of that post because here is the thing. and I'm going to use specific examples, because I think it's illustrative.

the two groups of people in this fandom who have specifically harassed me have been, as I've said before, imo/dna fans mad I don't find the ship very good, and (to be fair, only on one occasion) shadowido/mauk fans who got mad that I said that tagging ao3 fic about throuples with individual pairs sucks. [hilariously the latter was not even about them at all, it was about me looking for imogen and fearne ship fic that wasn't witchy trio fic and finding it almost impossible to filter].

I do not like these people because they have engaged with harassment. It is not about identity; it is about actions. My closest friend, and the first non-family member I talked to on Wednesday morning, is a bi woman in an open marriage to a woman, with a longterm male partner. I was a bridesmaid in her wedding. The last time I visited her, in September, I was joined by other mutual friends, who are similarly in an open marriage with longterm partners and at least one relationship between two women.

I am entirely secure, in my personal life, that I am kind and accepting to queer women (of which I am one) and to poly people (of which I am not), and so I hope you can appreciate that if someone attempts to attack me on the internet on these grounds because I do not have the same exact opinions on pretend people kissing, my response isn't "oh my god I should go off and die because I'm a terrible person," it's "get a load of this moron making wild assumptions about my personal life based on a single data point in my preferences in fiction; I'm going to make them regret doing this to me, and hopefully anyone else, because this is genuinely a detrimental behavior in the fandom space." And also, you know what. If they were a homeless person on the street and asked for a dollar I would still give it to them if their attacks were merely verbal (yes, I know the idea of someone screaming "YOU'RE A LESBOPHOBE FOR HATING IMO/DNA can i have a dollar" outside the grocery store is rather comical, and I think that is how you need to consider statements like "um actually I won't help pro-shippers." Imagine that conversation happening in an irl activist group. Everyone would be like "uh...anyway, how do we fight back against this hostile bench architecture.")

I think right now it is vitally important to remember what actual bigotry looks like and what needs to be fought, and the reason I tapped the sign of this post last night is literally that I think you are wasting time and energy engaging with people who think bigotry is "criticizing the pretend guy Ashton Greymoore for concrete but pretend choices they made" when I also think most people criticizing Ashton would, if Ashton were real, still toss them change if they needed it, or are people who currently donate to or otherwise work with local programs that assist nb people, disabled people, or unhoused children.

I like to argue and I like to engage in fandom and I will continue doing that because it is a source of enjoyment and comfort for me, but I really urge everyone to ask yourself "am I arguing about genuinely different readings, or do I think that everyone who doesn't like my blorbo ship is a bad person" because if it's the latter, I think you need to nip that in the bud of online fandom before it grows into something darker and worse. A lot of irl hate and bigotry starts from a place of "everyone who doesn't agree with me and give me what I want all the time is wrong and evil" and perhaps I am too optimistic, but I think many people who say things like that in fandom just are caught up in the drama of it all and are capable of exercising empathy when they stop treating shipping or interpretation like a popularity contest that, if they lose, indicates that everyone around them is irredeemable. But I also think it can be the start of a really bad path.

[poorlittleyaoyao]

But Madam Qin explicitly did not want to doom Qin Su to the incest marriage. When she got the wedding invitation even after warning JGY she fainted dead away on the spot and died of depression shortly afterwards and could only bring herself to warn Bicao on her death bed.

I assume this is in response to my tags on this post about "plot holes" in MDZS, in which my exact words were "JGY and Madam Qin decided quietly dooming QS to the incest marriage was the best option." Deciding that something is the best option is not the same as wanting it. Deciding to amputate a gangrenous limb so the infection doesn't spread and kill me doesn't mean I want to chop my arm off, it means I've determined that this is the least-damaging option available to me.

I totally agree that Madam Qin did not want her daughter to marry her own half-brother, which is why I picked that option as the plot hole that is the hardest to give a Watsonian explanation for using the text alone. The other things listed on that poll don't impact the plot overmuch and can be explained based on other behavior we've seen from the characters and/or other expressly-stated events or aspects of the setting itself. Qin Su's pregnancy, however, is a fairly major plot point, and it being treated as something 100% inescapable where the only options are disgrace or a timely marriage, is contrary to what we know about this world and these characters. Madam Qin is not granted the privilege of having a character to begin with; all we know about her is that Jin Guangshan raped her, she kept this a secret, and that Jin Guangyao and Qin Su marrying despite her attempts to prevent it was so distressing to her that she died. Given that she so desperately wants her daughter to avoid being trapped in this marriage, but Qin Su is already pregnant, why is abortion not considered? There are possible explanations, but all of them require the reader to invent them wholecloth, because nothing we are told about her facilitates an explanation. Again, "doesn't want the incest marriage" is her primary personality trait. This is counter to that.

I do not feel it is reasonable to assume that abortifacients simply don't exist in the MDZS universe, because they exist--and have existed throughout history--in real life. They might not be safe, and they might not be effective, and they may be viewed as immoral depending on the cultural norms, but they exist. The MDZS world has magic. We see multiple characters casually walk off stab wounds even if they're of middling cultivation level. If Ancient Fantasy China's medical knowledge allows someone to successfully transplant Xiao Xingchen's entire eyes into Song Lan's head--a surgery that was only accomplished in the real world last year, with no vision in the transplanted eye--then surely abortion exists.

Meanwhile, Jin Guangyao would 100% know about abortion. He grew up in a brothel. Brothels sell sex. Sex sometimes causes unplanned pregnancy. Pregnancy for someone working in a brothel is generally a liability to be dealt with. There is no indication that we cannot apply these assumptions to the brothel in Yunping. Ergo, Jin Guangyao would know and should have at least considered it for Qin Su. There is no indication that he does.

Now--and I'm putting this in bold because this website can't read--that does not mean that there is no possible way for events to unfold as they did. There are many reasons why Madam Qin and Jin Guangyao would both disregard abortion as an option. If neither of them is willing to tell Qin Su the truth, they would need to give her drugs or treatment without her consent, and perhaps neither of them was willing to do that. Perhaps Jin Guangyao in his childhood witnessed self-induced abortions gone wrong and was unwilling to expose Qin Su to that risk, unconvinced that her social status would allow her access to better, safer care. Perhaps Madam Qin, struggling alone during her own unwanted pregnancy, had a bad experience of her own or was given bad information that convinced her abortion would be too dangerous. Maybe MDZS is like the Star Wars universe and is garbage at reproductive care specifically. Or something else entirely! The issue is that abortion is never considered within the text itself at all--not by the two parties in the know at the time, not by the peanut gallery listening to Bicao, and not by anybody interrogating Jin Guangyao at Guanyin Temple. And given how important the pregnancy is as a plot point, that's an issue!

[cuffmeinblack]

A Date, Of Sorts

Ron Weasley x f!reader

Summary: A chance encounter, a sympathetic ear. You find Ron Weasley drinking alone, a burnt out Auror burdened with heavy expectations. Once he opens up, the night takes you elsewhere.

Tags: explicit | post-Hogwarts | sex | cunnilingus | alcohol

2.9k words

A/n: For @ellivenollivander 🖤 I love how this is the fault of the Ominis server of all places. Despite the thing that got me writing was sub!Ron, I ended up writing this absolutely shameless self indulgent smut fic.

The Leaky Cauldron, London. Neither very grand, nor particularly cosy, absolutely terrible for conducting private business, and yet witches and wizards flocked to it like moths to a flame. You supposed it was convenient for the Ministry, given how packed it currently was with smart robed administrators with pinched faces and even the odd member of the Wizengamot or two. You were here for someone in particular, and yet after a careful sweep of the crowds, he eluded you. You considered that perhaps he'd been held up at work, deciding to settle down at a dark and dingy corner of the bar to wait.

The barman looked at you expectantly as he wiped a pint glass with a dirty cloth, your lip curling in faint disgust you were too slow to hide. “Butterbeer,” you requested, wishing it was something stronger. Keeping your eyes peeled for your date, you kept yourself busy by idly fiddling with the hem of your skirt whilst taking in the ambience—if it could be called as such. The old pub was dilapidated and held up by more magic and willpower than by the crumbling oak beams, yet you did admit it held a certain charm. Your eyes drifted down from the flickering lights and caught on something warm and familiar; a burnished copper mop that glinted amber and gold and reminded you of sticky toffee… “Ron?”

He hadn't heard you—though it was certainly the boy you'd gone to school with—clearly busy nursing a glass of what looked like whiskey with too much ice. You kept your eyes down, surreptitiously glancing across the bar whilst grabbing your butterbeer with clumsy fingers and shoving a pile of knuts on the counter. The barman grumbled, ignored. 

Oh, it was Ron Weasley, alright. So many years later, he'd not changed in all the ways that mattered. A sip of beer masked a smile, sticky sweet foam coating your lips, but your blush felt far too obvious. Lucky, then, that he appeared so deep in thought, so enraptured with his own fingernails. 

No wedding ring.

Ron sighed and picked up his glass and you instinctively copied him. He threw the rest of his drink down, wincing slightly at the burn before signalling the barman—who seemed far more genial towards him than yourself—for another. Whatever had him here, had him drinking for comfort; for solace. Now that you were really looking, you noticed how downcast he appeared, the once easy smirk he wore wiped clean from his face. The slight shadows under his eyes spoke of sleepless nights; the black suit of an Auror, top button popped open, the obvious culprit.

“Ron?” You tried again, and this time he looked up, slightly dazed, clearly not expecting to be addressed despite the busy pub filled with his colleagues. His eyes were blue and red; beautiful and sombre. A spark of recognition finally passed after a few agonising moments, and he offered you a sincere smile. Your name rolled off his tongue and you nodded—yes, it's me.

“Hey.” His voice was gravelly with drink. “Now there's a face I haven't seen in a while.”

He looked you over, unabashedly, as you'd done only moments before, eyes leaving a trail of prickled skin in their wake. 

“Likewise. Working at the Ministry?” you asked cheerfully, but it was clearly the wrong thing to say. Your question prompted another gulp of whiskey. “Sorry, bad day?”

“Bad day, bad year. But how about you? What are you up to these days?” He deflected easily, suddenly giving you his rapt attention. You told him the usual story—you were a healer at St Mungo’s, caring for the sick was your calling, and so on and so forth. You might have seen a flicker of doubt in his gaze, but he only smiled and nodded, eating up every lie you had, ravenous to hear anything but his own story. He pushed his hair out of his face as if willing you to keep looking, and that's when you realised he was using his routine on you. That's also when you remembered you were waiting for a date, a thought that almost sent butterbeer dribbling down your chin.

“What are you, really? Go on, you can tell me. My lips are sealed,” he slurred. He looked at your lips as he said it, and you looked at his.

Unfortunately for him, it would take more than mere flirting from an old crush to get you to dispense with your secrets. An Unspeakable is discreet, even in the face of adversity (and gorgeous redheads).

“I promise you I am a healer, despite my clear disregard for my own health and wellbeing,” you said, gesturing to your third—or fourth—glass of beer. 

“I think the most you'll get from that is cavities.” He laughed, and it sent you back in time to those days at school before everything went so horribly wrong. 

“I'm better at mending broken bones than hearts but if you wanted to talk…”

“Is that what you think I have—a broken heart?” Ron grinned, wide and bright, and you melted despite your foolishness.

“Is it not? Sorry, I just assumed the whiskey and general demeanour—”

“Okay, alright. Glad to know you noticed me being a sulky git. Truth is, my job really takes it out of me sometimes.”

“I can imagine,” you said quietly. In fact, you knew exactly what he meant. “Is being an Auror not what you expected?”

“I’d say it's exactly what I expected. The problem is, after everything that happened everybody expected me to do this, you know?” 

You nodded, fighting the urge to look away. Ron may have looked startlingly similar to his sixteen year old self—bright eyes; crooked smile; fiery, untameable hair—but despite the years that had passed he had a weariness about him that belied his true age. Once he'd started there was no stopping him, words pouring forth as he reached desperately for catharsis. He'd wished he'd taken a different path, and looking at him now, you had to agree with that assessment. Ron Weasley didn't suit the stifling crush of the Ministry.

You reached across the bar and put your hand on his, a gesture most unexpected and yet felt right for the moment. If your date happened to turn up now, then so be it. Ron looked at where your bodies joined with the slow sort of realisation of someone unused to physical affection—or maybe it was the firewhiskey. Everything certainly was quite hazy now. There was a soft glow around the edges of your vision that enveloped you in a warm hug of intoxication. The weak alcohol told you that anything was possible—even holding Ron Weasley's hand.

Ron cleared his throat, and for an awful second you thought he was going to pull away, not pull you closer. But soon you felt his callouses brush your palm as he turned over his hand and guided you closer, the hot tang of whiskey on his breath and smoke lingering in his hair—not the kind of tobacco smoke that clogged your lungs but the unmistakable scent of fire, of magic. You wondered what he'd been doing that day, why his coat was singed and he had the slightest hint of a bruise blooming on his cheek, but then he was kissing you.

His lips parted, soft and supple, coaxing you to respond amongst your shock. You tilted your head—an invitation—and he smiled against your mouth, sliding a hand onto your knee with only thin nylon between you and his burning palm.

When you pulled apart, both breathing heavier than before, it took a while to focus your eyes on his heavy lids that suggested he wanted much more than just your kiss. Despite his drunkenness, Ron kept his hand a respectful distance from your lap, despite your growing urge for him to venture higher and relieve the throbbing ache between your legs. He licked his lips and smiled.

“Do you do that to all the girls that lend you an ear?” you asked quite breathlessly.

Ron chuckled and smiled that crooked smile that set your pulse racing, but his answer was sincere and serious. 

“I always fancied you, know. At school.” He shrugged, a hint of boyish charm and feigned innocence. “And thanks for listening. It's not often anyone thinks to ask.”

His fingers still burned a brand into your thigh; so distracting was his hand's presence that you almost forgot to reply. 

“You're welcome,” you replied weakly. To your dismay, he knew damn well the effect he was having on you. Even more horrifying were the words that spilled from your mouth next. “Do you want to go somewhere quieter?” What in Merlin's name possessed you to say that?

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

You'd asked and he'd accepted, and your fate was sealed. Though there was no promise of anything more than quiet company the expectation hung thick and heavy in the air between you. After that kiss, how could you think clearly about anything other than how they'd feel on your body? 

You walked in the chilly night, wind battering the comfortable jacket of warmth the alcohol had given you until you were startlingly sober by the time you stood on Ron’s doorstep. By then you didn't care much—apprehension had made way for giddy excitement and lustful want. Reminiscing on old times and flirtatious banter continued into the hallway, which was much more tidy and homely than you'd expected. There wasn't much time to take in the decor before your lips were fused once more. 

Pressed against the wall with a dado in your spine, you were now reminded just how tall he was, towering above you and blocking the ceiling light like an eclipse. Your neck craned to kiss him, a gentle finger tilting your chin, a leg slotted between your own. Not enough pressure to relieve much of anything, only an enticement. His hands roamed whilst tongues entwined, and you moaned softly into his mouth once he found his way underneath your top, skimming the waistband of your skirt. You'd thought he might be fumbling, a little awkward, but Ron surprised you with his gentleness, his teasing strokes. He grazed the dips of your waist, groaning low with approval as your hips rocked of their own accord. 

His hair felt like spun silk, copper strands falling over his eyes as you displaced them. Laboured breaths and moans filled the cramped hallway, your skirt hitched around your hips and his thigh pressed tight against your aching centre. You might've let him take you there and then if he'd not pulled away. You felt like you'd been slapped, so sudden the absence of his lips was that you opened your mouth in protest before realising he was taking you to the bedroom with a smirk to end all debate. His red and kiss-swollen lips and mussed hair had you practically skipping behind him, falling into his arms and onto the bed as soon as the door shut. 

“I thought we were just coming here to lament about our jobs some more,” you said with a pout. 

You were on your elbows, looking up at him, half undressed and flushed as he knelt before you with a hand on his belt buckle. He stilled, looked at you and raised his eyebrows. 

“I mean, we can do that instead if you want.” He shrugged. He shrugged. Then his fingers slipped inside your knickers with one swift motion and his face split into a shit-eating grin. He didn't need to point out how aroused you obviously were, but he did anyway—something about being ‘soaking wet’ before he plunged his fingers inside you and silenced any retort. Not that you could have thought of one, given how addled your mind was as he curled his digits almost languidly. Your back arched, head thrown back against the mattress as you looked up at him, surrounded by a dim halo of light. He'd abandoned his attempts at undressing himself, fixated on your every reaction to him. You swore his eyes were now a darker grey, a swirling tempest as he drank you in, rather than the baby blues you'd been so enamoured with. 

“Ron…,” you managed to sigh between the pumps of his hand.

“You’re gorgeous.” The words dripped in what sounded like awe, coaxing a whine from your throat. 

Your body shifted and squirmed beneath him, desperate for more and he heard your silent plea. You thought he would finally shed his pesky clothes, that damned black suit that clung to his body so delectably, but once again he surprised you by dipping his head and disappearing from view.

“Ro—oh fuck.” 

His fingers remained buried to the knuckles but now the warm, wet swipe of his tongue sent your head spinning. Deciding that the bunched fabric of your underwear was far too impeding, he swiftly pulled them down, discarding them to the floor before laying flat on the bed. He shifted to get himself comfortable as you watched, waiting, gripping the bed sheets in eager anticipation. Ron spread your legs, looking up through blond lashes and holding your gaze as he buried his mouth between your thighs. Your knuckles paled, cotton straining in your grasp as his tongue flicked lazily over your clit. Just the right amount of firm pressure, testing the waters. 

He quickened, flicked and swirled his tongue, reacting to every heightened moan until he knew exactly how you liked it. By then you were close to the blissful end, your climax only a lick away, and you moaned his name so loudly the walls should have shattered. You came hard, fingers threaded through his hair and eyes locked on his, asking him without words to please don't stop as wave after wave swept over you. You felt him smile against you as he sucked until you squirmed, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

You were staring at the ceiling again, wondering when your ears would stop ringing, when the mattress shifted and Ron’s face loomed into view.

“That good, huh?”

You licked your lips and sighed in response, only now noticing he'd finally shed his shirt as you let your eyes fall on the expanse of freckled skin. He'd filled out since those school days, with broader shoulders and muscles you swore he'd not possessed even in his prime as a Keeper. Your palms flattened against him; firm and irresistible. 

Lower they roamed until you found his belt, the buckle clicking as you made quick work of it, moving onto his trousers whilst Ron watched you, apparently fascinated. Knuckles brushed his cock straining against the fabric as you loosened every button, only taking a second to run a teasing thumb over the head before his mouth crashed into yours. Your surprised gasp was muffled, twisted into desperate whines as he kicked off the last of his clothes and planted himself between your legs all whilst your tongues danced and gasping breaths mingled. A press of his thigh spread your legs wider, his erection grinding against your overly sensitive clit. Fuck, he’s big, you thought with a pleasurable squirm of excitement in your abdomen.

“Ron, please…”

That smile again, a flash of amusement before your eyes fluttered shut as he pressed inside you. Slowly, deliberately, with moans of pleasure from both sides, his cock stretched you so satisfyingly an inch at a time. “Fuck, so good. You feel so good.” The praise rolled off his tongue and he kissed you again, sloppier this time; a brush of lips and heavy breaths, sharing each other's air. Your fingers entwined in his hair as he finally, mercifully, started rolling his hips. He held you firm with bruising fingertips against your hips, speaking of restraint you wish he didn't have, but oh, it felt glorious. He hit all the right spots, his steady pace building you up for another explosion of pleasure.

“Right there, yes, more.”

Harder, faster; you witnessed Ron let go of the last of his self restraint, pounding into you with such reckless abandon you could no longer breathe, let alone form coherent sentences. You managed to cry out a string of yeses until your orgasm enveloped you once more and your body convulsed, toes curling and back arching, but he didn't stop. Towering over you with flames framing his face, mouth agape and eyebrows peaked. “That's it, come for me…fuck, I'm so close.” He chased his release with brutal thrusts, gripping your hips so hard you felt bruises blooming, until finally he came with a shuddering moan and your name shouted for all to hear. 

Somehow, it sounded right. 

He could have rolled over and asked you to leave; there were no expectations, no pressure from either of you to stay entwined for longer than necessary, yet that's exactly what you did. Long after your breath had steadied, he held you in those strong arms, still flushed beneath the smattering of freckles. This chance encounter had reawoken a flame from former years, and you'd never been so grateful for a date not to show. If just for one night, it had been unexpectedly perfect.

“So, fancy dinner tomorrow night?” Ron's voice drifted into your ear as you felt yourself lulling, and you turned to see him grinning like an idiot; a picture of the schoolboy you once knew.

Full of surprises.

“Yeah, go on then,” you replied in an equally casual manner. You both laughed, somewhat shy and giddy. 

“Wicked.”

[romanarose]

Honest Mistake (Cowritten with @missdictatorme)

Santiago "Pope" Garcia X Fem!Reader

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Birthday fic for me and Dolli! Her's was the 18th, mine is the 20th (TOMORROW AT LEAST IN THE US!!!) so we whipped this bad boy up together! It was a lot of fun, we worked well together and have similar humors. I think some parts you'll be able to tell who wrote what, but others it could honestly be either. I hope you enjoy, bc I think this is pretty stellar!

Fluff

5k words

Summary: Santi goes into a panic one morning when he realizes it's your birthday, the first since you and him got together at Will's engagement party... and he forgot. In a hurry, he calls on his team to pull off a special day in order to make it seem as if he this all planned out ahead of time.

Warnings: some smut (fingering, oral), uuuhhh that's it? Content warning implied/referenced Nicolas Cage.

***************

“God baby, you just woke up this soaked?”

“It’s doesn’t help you’ve been grinding your morning wood into my ass the last hour.”

Santi had his finger down your Star Wars pj pants as the two of you laid in bed on this sleepy sunday morning, Santiago spooning you. Santi loved how you looked like this. Don’t get him wrong, he loved how you looked in business casual for work, he loved how you looked when he took you out on a fancy date and you got all dressed up, but something about this drove him crazy. Maybe it’s because only he got to see you like this, or maybe it’s because he got to see this so often instead of the one night stands he was used to. There was something so fucking intimate about it.

And it just turned him on like crazy.

“Not my fault you look this goddamn good”

“I literally have drool dried to my cheeks right n- oh” There it was. Santi curled his fingers and hit that perfect spot inside your gushing core.

“Only way I can get you to shut the fuck up, huh? Make you moan like a little whore?”

“Hmmmm I think you should be just a little bit nicer to me considering it’s my birthday.”

It took all his will power for Santi to not stop finger fucking you right then and there, his face hidden behind you hiding the horror at himself. BIRTHDAY?!?! It can’t be your birthday. That was tomorrow, wasn’t it? No, no it was a Sunday… next Sunday? No, next Sunday was Will’s wedding- oh fuck it’s your birthday.

“Sure is, hermosa” Santi mumbled into your neck. “And I have a great day planned for you, starting with…” Flinging the blankets off the bed, Santi scrambled his way down your body, sliding off the pants and diving in, large nose and all, into your cunt. Santi put every goddamn ounce of energy he had into making you scream, licking and sucking away, only breaking away to nibble on your thighs for a breath while he finger fucked you, never once letting up on the sensations he was giving. 

“Fuck! Fucking hell Santiago, what’s- uuugghh, fuck, what’s gotten into you today?”

“Just trying to give my girl the best birthday ever!” He said, perhaps too enthusiastically. Only Ben get’s that fucking excited. Still you didn’t seem to find it odd because you were moaning his name as you came on his face, Santi lapping up every drop until he drew a second, smaller orgasm out of you. “Just lay here, princesa.” Still in a panic (and fucking hard, on top of it all) Santi went and drew you a bath. The perfect excuse to leave you alone with a towel, face mask, candle, and music going so you didn’t have to hear him hyperventilating.

How could he do this? How could he forget your birthday, his perfect fucking girlfriend who remembers every date from his birthday, to Frankie’s daughter Yasmine’s recitals to the anniversary of Tom’s death. And he couldn’t remember this? It’s a week on the dot before Will and Lana’s wedding, how could he forget! Between the wedding, the bachelor party, groomsmen duties and not to mention last month he signed Yaz up for a soccer camp which meant committing to picking her up from daycare for a few hours every day for the last week and of course he had to take her out for McDonalds after like the good uncle he was… you had just gotten lost in the flood.

This would not stand. He’d give you the best birthday he could pull together last minute or so help him god! He just needs a few reinforcements.

Benny’s Boys 😎

Pope: I fucked up.

Ironhead: You forgot her birthday, didn’t you. 

🐟: How the fuck do you remember, Will

No Call Sign: Will drinks respect women juice for breakfast 

Ironhead: It’s a week before my wedding. How did you forget?

Pope: I don’t know! But I need your help to fix this!

No Call Sign: Have you tried eating her out? That usually fixes things when May is mad

Ironhead: Jesus Christ Benjamin. Have some class.

Ironhead: Have you, though?

Pope: GUYS

Pope: Also, yes.

🐟: What do you need, Pope.

After a four way call on the balcony and planning that rivaled what it took to almost pull off Colombia (Why does Will have a white board and a corkboard with pictures of them all, you, Yazmine, Lana and red strig just ready to go?), a preliminary plan was made. Santi would start by taking you to brunch where Will would just have enough time to bring over a bouquet of flowers and put their names in for a table without being seen. Meanwhile, Frankie and Yaz were going to be working on a cake and Benny called up everyone you both knew (why does he have everyone’s numbers?). Lana was their man on the ground, updating the boards in an organized fashion she knew Will loved and keeping everyone on track. One task each would not be enough to get this done, they’d have to hussle the whole day to pull off what the 4 men had planned in an effort to make it seem like Santi scheduled this out ahead of time.

When Santi finished the calls and the grand plan was made, he walked back to the bedroom, just in time to see the bathroom door open. He quickly dove onto the bed, landing on top of the covers and he propped himself up on one elbow, acting relaxed.

"Enjoyed your bath, mi vida?"

You lifted an amused eyebrow, seeing that he bounced a little on the mattress and looked a bit out of breath, but you nodded.

"Yes, baby, it was perfect, thank you." - you blew him a kiss and walked to your closet to dress up.

He had a big house, much bigger and much nicer than your flat, but last night was spent at yours. When you two first dated, Santi set the rules by saying that he wants to keep things slow and casual (like with all of the women he had in the past, he loved fucking them, he respected them, but he wasn't the type to spend most of his free time with them). 

You agreed, not wanting to complicate things. The sex was great and he was fun to hang out with, and because of that you didn't want to rush things in case you get bored with each other too soon.

This plan flew right out the window when both of you spent your nights in separate beds, thinking about the other, missing the other.

The next time you had sex, Santi pulled you closer when you wanted to get up, get dressed and leave, asking you to stay the night, kissing your neck. You melted in his arms and cuddled close to him, and after having the best sleep of your life next to each other, it was almost impossible for both of you to let go of the other from then on.

Santi was surprised you and him were still together. Not because you two together weren't perfect. He just… never met someone who made him feel this… happy. Now he felt even worse for forgetting your birthday.

He watched you dress up with a soft smile, loving the way your body looked. When you were done he got up too, lifted your face up with one of his fingers and kissed your lips sweetly.

"How about I'll take you to that restaurant you eye fuck everytime we pass it? For brunch?"

Your eyes widened. That restaurant was… expensive.

You opened your mouth to protest and Santi smiled wider, putting his forefinger against your lips.

"Not that you get any say in the matter, I'm gonna spoil my perfect little princess on her birthday and you can't do anything to stop me."

You mock pouted and bit his finger making him laugh, then you hugged his neck and kissed his lips.

"Okay, Mr. Kidnapper, I sure as hell don't wanna go to that restaurant I've been dying to try since I first saw it. And just for your information, I'm gonna be all grumpy and shit the whole time while we're there!" - you said as you turned to walk out the door and Santi's heart fluttered at seeing the excited bounce in your steps as he followed you.

You kissed his cheek when he opened the car door for you, making him grin widely; you were so sweet, so good to him. Just when you were driving near Santi’s house to get to the resteraunt, you spotted a car similar to Benny's as it turned in the street.

"Isn't that Be…?"

"So are you excited to try this restaurant?" - Santi asked all too eagerly.

"I think that was Be…"

"You must be so curious what I brought for you as a present, carino. I can't wait to give it to you."

You frowned a little then started talking about the reviews you read on the restaurant and started listing him the stuff you'd be happy to get as a present.

When you were looking out the window while you were rambling on and on, Santi quickly reached for his phone and started a voice recording. He sent it to William so he'll know what to buy.

As Santi took you into the restaurant, he got nervous since it was packed. How was he supposed to make it look like he had made a reservation? “Sit here, amor.” Santi directed you to an open chair and went to talk to a host. As he walked away, he heard you call his name, and when he turned around, he saw you in your pretty white dress making a heart with your hands. Santi made his best attempt at a heart back (it looked terrible.) and went on. You were so perfect, so pretty… how was he supposed to give you the day you deserved?

“Hi, uuhhhhhh call ahead for Santiago Garcia? Or maybe it’s under William-”

“Yes! Mr. Garcia! Your friend put your name in. Luckily we just had a bunch of tables get up, so as soon as they get bussed off, we’ll seat you. Maybe 10-15 minutes?”

Santi breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, that’s perfect.” He turned to go back to you when he realized a weak link in this plan. The hostess. This was not a military operation and he couldn’t ‘take care of it’ the way they used to… lucky for the hostess. “Hey uh… can you maybe not mention my friend to my girlfriend? Or that this was a call ahead instead of a reservation?”

She smiled knowingly. “Of course, Mr. Garcia.”

When he got back to you, he told you the wait time. “Sorry baby, they said they had some tables stay longer than expected.”

“Oh that’s okay!” You assured. You used to work in a restaurant and know how it goes. When the hostess came to seat you, she made sure to tell Santi his “reservation” was ready.

Brunch was… expensive. But it didn’t matter, you were worth it, and you smiled so brightly at every bite and every sip, he wanted to take you here more just to see you so happy. Just when he thought Will couldn’t swing the flowers, the hostess brought up a bouquet and Santi watched in delight as you beam at him. 

Next on the agenda was a picnic. Driving home, Santi prayed for the first time in half a decade that the Millers had gotten their next part done. Ben came over to start decorating and prepping the picnic basket. Will had to bring the physical basket and blanket… and glasses that aren't plastic. 

“BEEEEEEEENNNNNNNNN” 

“Relax!” The younger man shouted back as Santi entered the apartment. “We’re way ahead of schedule” Ben had stopped at the store to get a cheese and meat platter and was adding the finishing touches. Will had already left for his next part; buying a gift in which Santi would venmo the cost back. He didn’t care how much, just make it good. 

“Tio!!!” A little brunette ran up and hugged her uncle, covered in flour.

“Mija, what are you doing here?” He asked as he greeted his goddaughter.

Frankie round the corner from the kitchen. “Yasmine, you just got him dirty!” He scolded. Santi assured him it was fine and wiped off the flour, and Frankie explained. “We figured we’d make the cake here instead of risking transportation.”

With hugs and thank you’s all around, Santi grabbed the finished basket and dashed out the door.

When he got back in the car, you looked at him curiously. “Is that Frankie’s car down the street?”

Santi gives a noncommittal answer and mutters something about Frankie having ladies in every zip code, then drives away, quickly changing the subject to the new Barbie movie you wanted to see so badly as he took you out to the park for a picnic. 

Santi found a nice spot under a tree where the shadow was big enough to cover the big blanket from the heat of the sun. He made you sit down and you watched with a smile as he pulled everything out of the box. While he did that, you decided to pull off your sandals and removed Santi's shoes and socks too, making the man chuckle.

He opened the bottle of wine while you picked some cheese on your plate and you beamed up at him.

"Today is going great Santi. Thank you for this."

Santi smiled back at you and leaned over to kiss your cheek.

"You deserve the best, baby."

You shook your head, feeling your cheeks heat up.

"Still… No one put this much effort into making me feel special, like… ever."

Santi's smile faltered a little and you thought it was because of sympathy. But he felt shame envelope him. He shouldn't have forgotten your birthday. If he would've remembered he would've made you take a week off from work and would have taken you to somewhere nice. To Spain maybe, or Guatemala or Italy, maybe Greece. To somewhere beautiful where you always wanted to go. To make you feel like the most special girl in the world. Because you were the most special! At least for him. What would you think of him if you knew his friends were helping him, because he forgot your birthday? Did he really deserve you?

You pulled him out of his thoughts when you leaned your head on his shoulder as you were watching the lake where ducks and swans were swimming peacefully.

"You always make me feel special though. Everyday. Sometimes I feel like I don't thank you enough." - you said quietly.

Santi looked down and kissed your head several times, until you chuckled.

"Don't be silly, baby. You're the best thing that ever happened to me. There are times when I just look at you and wonder how you ended up being in my life."

You grinned.

"It was one of Benny's parties where you were drunk as hell, grabbed his guitar and started to serenade me, singing about how I am the most beautiful woman you've ever seen."

Santi started to laugh.

"Well, you are!"

"I just finished throwing up, and was trying to wipe my makeup off with little success."

"Still. I was watching you since you entered the house and was drinking cause I was trying to get enough courage to go over to you."

"This is such bullshit!" - you said, looking at him.

"Que?!"

"Benny told me you are the biggest womanizer he ever met, why did you need courage?"

"Because…" - he started as he booped your nose with his fingertip gently as he leaned closer. - "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, and I didn't want to fuck it up." - he said and kissed your lips softly.

You snorted and kissed him back.

"So your grand plan was to get shitfaced and serenade me with silly lyrics you made up on the spot."

"Well, I didn't mean to drink that much, but Will just told us he got engaged and we had to celebrate." - he kissed your cheek again, then your neck. - "Besides… it worked." - he grinned.

"It did." - you laughed and kissed him again. 

Benny’s Boys 😎

🐟: Booked you a couples massage. Consider it your birthday gift. And christmas. Y Dia De San Jose.

Pope: I cannot say thank you enough, you guys

No Call Sign: Once would be great.

Pope: Hey! I said thank you!

Ironhead: Quit texting your boyfriend and woo your girlfriend. If you want her to be your wife you can’t let her think you’re going to ditch her for some blonde bimbo

No Call Sign: Wait. Am I the blonde bimbo?

🐟: Hey! He’s my blonde bimbo

No Call Sign: Thanks baby 😘

This was proceeded by Ben and Frankie ‘homie flirting’ as Ben called it, before Will reminded them Benny has a girlfriend and Frankie still needed to text Santi the details of the massage.

He took his time with you at the picnic, plopping little bits of meat and cheese and berries in your mouth, continuing to woo you with everything he had. He would make you feel like the most special girl on the planet if it was the last thing he did.

“You’re the most perfect boyfriend in the world“ You praised as you laid on this lap as he sat back against the tree. Santi dangled grapes over your mouth, feeding them to you as he fanned you (Will had a fan in his picnic kit? No wonder that man got engaged so damn fast). 

“Hopefully I’ll be the most perfect husband not long from now.”

The way you beamed up at him, eyes sparkling, made every worry he had disappear. “You mean that, Santi?” With bated breath, you await his answer. It wasn’t like you hadn’t been serious… but the line between meeting at Will and Lana’s engagement party where Benny brought you along to, where you had both said to stay ‘casual’ to where you were now, with you as Santi’s official plus one to Will’s wedding, spending nearly every night together… you hadn’t really talked about the future. You knew he was serious. He wouldn’t lead you along like this if he just wanted to casually date, and Benny would kick his ass if he thought Santi was being a dick to you (and threatened to do as much when you first told him about his two best friends dating), but you hadn’t really talked about it.

“I mean it, carino.” Assuringly, Santi caressed your cheek. “I know we’ve been moving a little slow, and I appreciate you meeting me at my pace. I know maybe it seems like I’m just messing around-”

“It doesn’t.”

“-but I promise you, I am very serious. And I’d like to take the next step.” He goes in for a kiss, pecking your lips and tasting the fruit on them.

“And what’s the next step, baby?”

“You’ll see when we get back to the apartment.” He did have one gift ready, something he had planned for weeks ahead of time to give today. It wasn’t that he forgot your birthday completely… he knew what day it was, he knew it was coming… it just got lost in the chaos. So yeah, he needed his 3 best friends, one’s fiance and his goddaughter to assist him. “But up next, a couples massage.”

Santiago did not mean to moan. He really didn’t. But between the stress of the wedding and this whole day, he was tense, and the massage therapist was good. Lucky for him, both his and your massage therapist were cool about it, and you burst into giggles, proceeding to tell his masseuse “I never get him to moan like that.”

He’d be humiliated if it was anyone else but you. You made everything so easy. You also mimicked his moan the whole car ride to his apartment as Santi prayed to god Benny had decorated and gathered enough people together to constitute a surprise party. It was definitely a perk that your friend was good friends with your girlfriend; they knew a lot of the same people. Okay, so maybe Santi thought Ben was competition at first! So maybe Santi kinda wanted to steal you from Ben! So maybe the reason Santi brought out the guitar is because Benny had previously played it and was singing ‘baby lock them doors and turn the light down loooowwww’ and Santi wouldn’t be upstaged! So sue him!

As he unlocked the door, he spoke REALLY LOUDLY in hopes they’d here and get into place. It worked. It definitely worked. Until Yaz shouted “DON’T SHUSH ME DADDY” and it was all over.

You looked at Santi suspiciously.

"You are either hiding your side-chick or… IT'S MY FAVOURITE LITTLE GIRL IN THE WORLD!"

In three seconds you two spotted Yazmine sprinting down the stairs and into your arms, giggling.

"No, Yaz, abort mission, I repeat ABORT MISSION!" - you heard Frankie yell after her, still in his hiding spot while Santi facepalmed himself.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" - she shouted excited as you picked her up and kissed her cheek.

"Thank you, honey! So tell me…" 

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!" - suddenly dozens of people jumped out from behind different furnitures and you jumped back scared, but then laughed when you recognized the faces.

"Oh my god, guys, thank you!" - you laughed as you put Yasmine down and hugged everyone who came up to you.

Santi quickly searched for his friends to thank them all the effort they put into to make this day special for you. The decoration was done and it seemed like you loved it, if the way your eyes sparkled when you spotted another balloon or a birthday poster was any indication. 

You loved the restaurant, the picnic basket Will and Benny put together was fucking delicious, the massage was heavenly and now all of your friends were here to celebrate you.

"Guys, seriously, thank you." - Santi said as he hugged them.

"You better marry this woman one day, since we did all this for you two." - Will winked.

Santi looked over at you with a soft smile on his face. 

"Maybe I will."

Frankie, Will and Benny's eyes widened and they grinned, pulling Santi into another group hug. They've never seen their friend this happy and it was easy to tell that it was because of you.

You had a suspicion that it wasn't all Santi. You're not saying he wasn't capable to pull all of this off, but he looked a bit on edge the whole day and he was on the phone a lot more than he used to.

When Santi appeared in front of you with a big gift box, you grinned widely, taking it from him.

“Baby it’s huge!!!” You squeal as you both sit down to tear it open; right away you knew he had sent Will to get it. When you had listed off things you guessed he might have gotten you in the car this morning, you had named several items. A pandora’s charm bracelet, the giant blanket off redbubble with Nicolas Cage’s face all over it, that rose shaped sex toy you were curious about, a new hair dryer since yours had broken, and it was, in fact, the last one. This had Will written all over it. It wasn’t that Will couldn't be romantic; he was, from what Lana had told you and what you had seen, very romantic. However, out of the four, Will was more practical, and absolutely went for the hair dryer. Santi was more fancy jewelry, Frankie would go for the sex toy, and Benny…

The hair dryer was nice, though, very, very nice. It came with several attachments, and Will even managed to put in different hair masks and deep conditioners in there. It was perfect, and you would absolutely be using it on you and May to get ready for Will and Lana’s wedding. 

“THANK YOU BABY THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!!” Jumping up, you tackle him onto the carpet and pepper his scruffy face with kisses as you both giggled.

The night went swimmingly, a fun weekend but nothing crazy since most had work the next day and the real party would be next weekend, but you had such a great time, Santi serenading you with a cover of You and Me by Lifehouse. Benny somehow read your mind and got you that god awful Nicolas Cage blanket you wanted, and Santi he was never staying the night again.

When the crowd cleared out, leaving you and Santi alone, you took both of his hands in yours. “Thank you for today, Santiago. I had an amazing time”

Santi smiled at you, adoration and love spreading across his face. “I’m so glad, mi vida. It took a lot of effort” Now he could honestly say that wasn’t a lie.

Looking around, you compliment his work. “The decorations look great” You nod to the streamers that were so high up. “You use a step stool?”

Fake glaring, Santi furrowed his eyebrows. “Oh you’re gonna be a brat now, are you?”

Pulling your boyfriend closer, you look his dead in the eye but keep a light smile to make sure he knows you aren’t upset. “You forgot my birthday, didn’t you?”

His eyes go wide, and immediately he starts stammering. “No! No- why would you- baby I would never- your birthday of all days!”

You cock and eyebrow at him. “Santiago Garcia.”

He sighs. “Fine! So I forgot it was today, but I knew it was coming! I just got so… I don’t have an excuse, baby, I’m sorry.” He genuinely looked so sad, so disappointed in himself. 

“Oh Santi.” You lean in to kiss him, caressing his face tenderly. “It’s okay, you made me feel so, so special, so loved, not just by you but by your family, and that means a lot to me. Knowing that they care about me too. So thank you today was perfect.”

His face softens, smiling lightly. “Okay, so I had a lot of help. But!” He departs from you, walking into his bedroom and coming out with a small box. “This is something I made up weeks ago. I didn’t completely forget about your birthday.” He hands it to you.

“Santi, you shouldn’t have! You’ve already gotten me so much!” 

“Well, this one cost me like. Three dollars.”

When you open it, you see a small key from those kiosks at walmart that even had a Star Wars design on it. “Santi” You gasp. “Is this-”

“A key to my house, yeah.” Santi stuffed his hands into the pockets of his dark pants, shuffling nervously. “Well, we’ve been dating for a while, and you practically live here anyway” He teases. “I want you to just… make yourself at home. And when your lease is up… and if you feel ready… I was thinking…” The hopeful look on his high-strung face after everything he did to put today together at the last minute… you fell more in love with him every day.

“SANTIAREYOUASKINGMETOMOVEIN?!” You blurt out, practically jumping.

“If you want-”

Kisses. Nothing but kisses and I love you’s and you jumped and squealed in excitement. 

When you had settled and confirmed yes, you’d move in when your lease was up in a few short months, Santi took your mouth in his for a more passionate kiss, and a handful of ass in his hand for a squeeze. Sloppily, you two made out on your slow trek back to what would soon be your bedroom (Where the Nicolas Cage blanket was awaiting him, little did he know) he asked you.

“How did you know I forgot?”

“Weeeelllllll”  you draw it out as you go for his neck. “There were a few signs.”

He mumbles a few swears. “Was it Benny and Frankie’s car’s?”

“Well, yeah. But there was the fact, and baby I love you very much, but that level of decoration requires Benny’s enthusiasm.”

“Okay, yeah, well-”

“The gift screamed Will, and the massage had to be one of their ideas at the very least because you would never willingly strip for a woman you weren’t sleeping with.”

“Hey-”

“The cake had a chunk of missing frosting that was suspiciously Yasmine sized”

“She takes after her uncle Ben-”

“There was a fan in the picnic basket”

“Okay so?”

“And baby…” You stop right outside the bedroom door, both of you panting and eager for each other. “You never eat me out like that unless you are trying to make up for something.”

His stupidly sharp jaw drops. “Are you saying I’m not a pussy eating champion?”

“Hey!” You raise your arms in defense. “All I’m saying is if Lana and May are correct, you could take some tips from the Miller- AH!” Santi scooped you up, slinging you over his shoulder.

Despite his words, he was clearly smiling, his shoulders shaking in laughter. “I don’t need jack shit from the Millers!” 

“Except this party”

“Except this party! Now, let me show you a little hint of what my wifey will get.” With that, he carried you into the bedroom, promptly greeted by a giant blanket collage of Nicolas Cage.

“Babe. What the FUCK!”

***********

Hope y'all liked!!!!

Dolli I hope you had a great birthday!

Tomorrow I'm decorating my classroom with baby yoda decorations, giving my day care class party favors, and bringing them cookies.

then this weekend thank GOD i have friday off and im going camping

@eyelessfaces @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @my-secret-shame @whatthefishh @miraclesabound @littlenosoul @fandxmslxt69 @campingwiththecharmings @melodygatesauthor @moonknightly @ahookedheroespureheart @jake-g-lockley @kittyofalltrades @milkymoon2483