#perfect vacations and maybe a wedding

[nelkcats]

Divine Signal

After Danny became king his level of meanness towards Vlad only increased. In his defense, the vampire ghost had been a nuisance for too many years to pass up, and now that he could command him the situation was hilarious.

However, at some point Vlad got tired. When Danny commented that he wanted to take some vacations, he decided to took that literally and threw him straight into a black hole, yelling "Have a good trip!", Vlad wasn't sure if the black hole was really a portal to another dimension like the rumors said but it was worth the try, is not like the King could die twice. And the stars would calm him down if it fails.

At the same time, Desiree had sneaked into Clockwork's lair to observe his time windows (something the time master was fully aware of), and heard Jason sigh in resignation and say, "I wish I had someone to love, someone similar to me" with a sad voice; Although he was good at hiding it, Jason had always wanted a romance like the one described in his books.

So of course, she fulfilled his wish. Which ended with Danny being transported to the DC universe via a wormhole and falling straight into Jason's arms, who just stared up at the sky in amazement.

[running-with-kn1ves]

Satin Pillows To Cry On

CW: coercion with money, age gap(7 yrs), transactional marriage, obsessive/yandere behavior

gn! reader

﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀

You’ve got nothing else, no one else to rely on. 

‘You’re something he bought to keep from growing old.” 

Your clothes are worth small countries. Your cars stacked in 3-level garages. Diamonds, emeralds, pearls hanging from your wrists and ears, satchels made of endangered animal skins, different shoes for each day of the year. 

Your boyfriend of three years spat at your feet when you told him what you were doing. 

“His money can’t love you, not like I can.”

The wedding was only two months away when you broke up with him, told him you couldn’t live in his broke-down apartment anymore, that you couldn’t live with debt trailing wherever you went. You went so far as to make him hate you, to tell him that you never wanted to see him again, that you never loved him, that he better not bother showing up to the wedding. You didn’t want him there, you never wanted to see him again. 

“You’re lying to me; he’s making you say these things, he’s using you against me! You’ve known him what-- two seconds, and you’re going to marry this man?! He’s nearly a decade older than you!” 

Seven years of an age gap or not, he was still a thousand times more independent, wealthy, and a safer choice than your boyfriend. You weren’t some fresh college student new to the world, you had graduated over two years ago, still finding no luck in getting a stable income-- forget about whether or not it was in the field of your degree. 

You left in a single day, fitting all of your scavanged belongings into one of your fiance’s awaiting cars. You left anything worth of value with your ex-boyfriend, knowing he’d find more use out of it than you would. You would even leave the rest of your things there if he could find use for them, but you knew they’d just be one more painful reminder of your betrayal. 

He did as you said, not showing up to your wedding, staying clear, never appearing in your line of sight since the day you left. It made it easier…. For both of you that way. 

And now you were happy-- well, maybe not happy, maybe not even content, but you were… safe. You had everything you needed: a working car, a stable job that you felt productive in, a clean and comforting house to come home to, a spouse. Sure, maybe you didn’t get your new job yourself, or your house or your car-- but did that really matter, in this economy? Who wouldn’t trade their life and their independence for this kind of wealth?

And your husband… he wasn’t all bad. He might have only wanted you for the sake of having you at first, like a new jewel or the latest technological invention. But he was doting and caring in his own way. Maybe just a tiny bit too invested in you, in your schedule and who you talked to. A little too hateful towards your ex-boyfriend, the one who had you before he could. But everyone had character flaws, and on good days you could distract him from his grumpy mood and stress and obsessive behaviors by being the loving and oh so perfect spouse you had trained yourself to be ever since he asked to marry you. 

“Colder than all that gold…” You repeated in your mind, the words your family whispered to each other at your wedding reception only a few feet away from you. 

That was over six months now, though… the honeymoon phase never existed, you rarely saw your husband except for his midnight appearances back from the office, and whenever he would whisk you away for a weekend vacation to savor the time he had with you. For someone more sophisticated, much wealthier, and dare you say handsomer than the average man-- you were surprised to find he didn’t have a line of divorces behind him. 

No; he said, he had been “waiting for you.” whether  you or he knew it, he understood right from the moment of meeting you that you were the one he’d have for the rest of his life, even if it killed him. That severity… scared you. But in a sick sense, it made you feel relieved. Forever? This could be yours, forever? Your family would never have to struggle again, you would never have to worry where your next meal came from?

“I cleared your schedule until tuesday; we’re going to the isles. A mini vacation, you might call it. Get your things.”

He was cold, that was for sure. But, was he any worse than your ex-boyfriend, especially when he was offering you an expensive experience on top of that?

“All right..” You acquiesced. 

And now, you lied sunken into the bed feeling his loving, hot breath on your navel. Going so sweetly slow, so oddly and uncharacteristingly lingering with his touches as he gazes into your eyes. You didn’t like this; didn’t like that when he was cherishing you, making love to you, holding you so intimately, he was appearing… like a husband should. Where did he get the nerve to ignore you everyday, to have hardly any time for you, only to come back and beg for your love when it was convenient for him? 

But you keep your mouth shut, like you should, if you want to keep eating breakfast in bed, keep wearing silk robes while watching the view of the ocean outside your window.

“So beautiful…you’re like a work of art, the kind no amount of money can buy.” 

That was funny, hilarious even. Enough so to make you cry. 

A familiar face passes by the slightly ajar door to distract you, likely one of the housekeepers leaving for the night. But you swear the man’s figure reminds you of someone from your past, someone you loved and left for good. 

Your husband brings back your attention by placing a gentle kiss to your temple, blindly undoing the clasp of the necklace he bought you.

“I’m so lucky… so lucky to have been the one to catch you, forever. No one could’ve done it, not without what I have.”

He wanted you to kiss and caress back, but sometimes lying still was just enough. It was enough for him to witness you, basking in the glow of everything you wore from him, lying in the Egyptian cotton sheets he paid extra for, your body molded to the diet his personal chefs cooked. 

Even as he pushed a knee between your legs, traveling from your navel to your stomach with open-mouthed sucks and kisses in the rawest form of affection, you couldn’t help but turn your face deep into the pillow. So soft, the soft purple shielding your eyes from his tender gaze.

You might’ve given up love, given up everything familiar and those who you’ve cared for-- but at least you had satin pillows to cry on, and the finest jewelry to wipe your tears with. 

[eddiesxangel]

My Little Bunny | Older!Eddie x Reader

For Evie, @oneforthemunny prompt for her writing challenge. “based off the lore that older!eddie gets slutty on tequila lol. gimme tequila eddie. make it slutty. the og prompt was at the beach for a wedding of a cousin, if you’d like to follow that, but if not- where does it happen? how do you think it would go? don’t spare a single detail please!!!!” I hope I did your man justice 😘 happy one year!

Happy new year! Here is some smut to start the year off right.

This is pure filth, don’t look at me🫣

Cw: age gap, oral, p in v, ass play, anal. Minors DNI. Only slightly proofread so if you see a spelling mistake… no you didn’t 😤

“Bunnnnnnnnnnnnnny” Eddie slurred. The man could not handle his liquor. But neither could you.

After what happened and the wedding, Eddie swore he wouldn’t drink tequila for a very long time. However, tonight was special. Tonight, the baby was with your parents, and Bri was off with your sister for the evening. It was just you. And Eddie. Alone for the first time in what felt like years. Eddie was wining and dining with you tonight.

You convinced him to go to a bar to dance. Well, you danced, he watched. He watched your body; he loved the new curves you got from bringing Delilah into the world. You returned to the bar where he was sitting and ordered four tequila shots. Eddie had been nursing a beer all night; he was shocked at your drink of choice.

“Bunny you know what happens when I drink this…” giving you a stern look.

“Maybe I wanna get a little freaky tonight…. It’s been so long” you run your hands up and down his chest.

“I don’t know”

“What if I gave you an insensitive?”

“And what would that be?”

“I want you to fuck my ass tonight” you whispered against your husband’s ear.

“Bunnnnnnnnnnnnnny” Eddie slured again as you both stumbled into your home.

“Fuck I need you. I need your tight ass so bad”

You can’t keep your hands off one another. Your lips are attached to his neck, and your hands run up and down his body. You barely make it through the front door before your hands are trying to get down his pants.

Somehow, you make it to the bedroom. You were stripping your man with each step. Something inside of you was burning, and Eddie was the only thing to put it out. A visceral ache in your core, screaming at you to do something about it.

“I need you, I need you so bad,” you whined because he wasn’t moving fast enough. You were already on the bed waiting for him.

Eddie giggled as he tried to unbutton his dress shirt, but it didn’t seem to work.

“Come here,” Eddie coxed you closer to him. “I need your help.”

“Arms up,” your mom instincts kicked in, and you pulled off Eddie’s shirt in one swift motion.

Without hesitation, you worked on his pants the second your fingertips left the fabric of his shirt. Your nimble fingers worked his belt, button, and zipper, and finally, why you craved most was released before you.

"God, you're so hot! How did I land a wife so fucking hot?"

You let Eddie cup your face, kissing you as he pushes you back onto the bed. His tongue parted your lips, and you gladly let him take charge.

It was needy and messy but so deliciously delightful. You missed your hundreds touch. You’d been so busy being a new mom, and Eddie tried picking up extra shifts to make a little more cash so you could take a nice vacation this summer. You hardly spent time together. You needed this. He needed this. The fire in his belly was also burning the second you mentioned your perfect tight little hole wanting to be stretched and pounded by his cock.

“You gonna be my good little bunny?” Eddie spoke as he slinked down your body so his face was level with your throbbing pussy.

“Yes!” You had zero patients, and he thought it was cute.

“Well then... You gotta get nice and wet, f’me”

“Already ammmmm” you wined again. Why was he prolonging this?

“Oh is she? I guess I’ll just have to see for myself.” Eddie didn’t spare another second. His hands wrenched your legs open, pressing them as far as they could reach.

You let out a moan of pleasure when his mouth finally attached to your lower lips.

Eddie needed to taste you. He usually didn’t do this often, but tonight you deserved to be thoroughly fucked. He needed to feel you cumming in his mouth, to taste you, to feel you. His eyes rolled back into his head as he moaned into your pussy.

“Looks like you were right, baby bunny, and you taste so good. Just can’t get enough,” Eddie dove back in, flicking and licking at your clit. Your body was so reactive to him tonight. Let’s thank the tequila because it didn’t take much to make you cum from his mouth.

“Baby, I’m so close”

“Already? But I just started playing with her” he pouted.

“Yes! P-please.” You stuttered.

“You wanna cum? You going to cum for me?”

Unexpectedly, Eddie replaced his mouth with his finger just as you were on the brink. Before you could say anything, his finger was inside your wet fold, collecting all of your slick, and was quickly replaced by his mouth again.

You could feel the warmth building back up. Eddie continued to work your clit. All the while, his finger, drenched with your own natural lube, was starting to tease your other hole.

“Oh my god,” you moan as his finger slowly makes its way inside.

“You okay?”

“Don’t stop!” You begged as your first orgasm washes through you.

“Fuck, your tight little ass is sucking me in so good,” Eddie continues to finger you as you ride out your orgasm.

“Good bunny. Turn around, ass up, show me what’s mine.”

You quickly obeyed his orders and flipped around so you could show him what he wanted. You loved when he got possessive.

“Tell me what you want bunny”

“You.”

“Nu-uh,” Eddie tutted. “Be more specific.”

“Edddiiiieee, please, I need you.”

Eddie couldn’t believe your extra brattiness tonight.

“No,” a sharp slap filled the room and your ass stung. “Tell me what you need, Bunny,” he spoke, and he massaged the area he slapped. Soothing your skin.

“Your tongue… and your fingers,” you pant.

“Good little bunny,” he smirked. “You want me to tongue fuck your tight little hole? Get you nice and ready for me?”

“Yes,” you sigh as you arch your back more so Eddie can see more of you.

“Fuck bunny, you’re perfect.” Eddie gripped each cheek, spreading you open before dipping his head down.

When you felt his tongue make contact with your hole, you cried out again. You were revelling in the fact you were in an empty house. You could be as loud as you wanted.

“Mmmmmm, you taste so good, Bunny,” he moaned into you.

“Eddie!”

“Yes, Bunny?”

“More!”

“More what?”

“Please fuck my pussy”

“You’re such a good little slut for me. Good girl telling me what you want…. But is that all you want?” God, he was so condescending.

You let out an irritated huff. “Eddie, please,” you begged as you wiggled your ass in the air to entice him.

“You need to behave, little bunny, or else you’re not going to get what you want.” Eddie’s hands gripped your cheeks tighter.

“I’m sorry, I just need you so badly baby”

“Ohhh, I like that; tell me more.”

“I need you so bad! I’m aching for you. Please.”

“That’s my good girl.

Eddie lined up his cock with your wanton hole and slowly stretched you out.

“Thank you.” You sighed with relief.

His thick long cock stretched out your walls. You couldn’t help yourself as you rocked your body back and forth onto his cock.

“That’s it, bunny. Show me what you really can do” he slapped your ass again. You rocked your knees and hips back onto Eddie’s cock as he stood at the edge of your shared bed.

“Mmmmmm”

“More!”

You felt a wad of spit drip down your ass, lower and lower, until Eddie’s fingers found it and rimmed your picked hole. As you rocked your body against Eddie’s cock he dipped in his single digit, adding another and another until you stretched out.

Your body is screaming; Eddie was making you feel so good.

“Ok, bunny, you’re going to ride me, bounce on this cock and show me how good of a Bunny you are.”

“Yes, please. Need you.”

Eddie pulled out so he could get underneath you, but not before he reached the nightstand to pull out the lube you had stashed away for nights like these.

“You ready for me, baby?” He asked as he covered his cock in the slippery substance.

“Yes,” you swung your leg around his hips, aligning yourself with his hard cock that lay on his stomach.

“My beautiful girl,” he whispered as he guided your hips down onto him.

“Oh fuck” you both grit out in unison.

You watched as Eddie glazed over with lust.

“Fucking so good. Damn, tight.” Eddie gritted through his teeth.

He planted his feet on the mattress to ground himself. His hips started thrusting up into you, matching your strokes.

“Fuck fuck fuck I love the way you take my cock. Tell me how much you love this cock.”

“I love it,” you panted as you bounced on his cock. You felt so full, so complete. So ready for his cock to fill you.

“Baby, touch me,” you commanded.

Eddie dipped his head to take a nipple in his mouth as his hand found your pussy, finding your clit. A rush of pleasure ran through your body as his mouth and hands explored your body.

“Oh baby,” you threw your head back with pleasure.

“How much do you want it, baby bunny?”

“I want it so bad!”

“What do you want?”

“Your cum”

“Sucha little slut, want me to fill your ass with my cum?”

“Yes!”

Eddie’s hand never stopped working your clit. You could feel the pleasure build and build. Your legs were burning, but it was in measure to how Eddie was making you feel.

“You’re close baby I can feel you clenching down on me so tight.” He squeezed his eyes shut with pleasure.

“Cum for me, baby, cum for me, then I’ll fill you up so good you’ll be leaking for days. Do you want that? To feel my cum dripping out of you tomorrow?”

“Fuck. Eddie!” You cried out as your body clenched around his cock, cumming hard.

"Eddie continued to pound into your ass until he unloaded up into you, filling you up just like you begged him to do.

Your body went limp and your soar muscles rested as you lay your weight fully on your husband.

"Remind me again. Why don't I do tequila?" Eddie laughed as his brain released serotonin. "That was amazing." He kissed the top of your head.

"Remember that question tomorrow, big boy." You giggled, and Eddie finally pulled out of you.

"Come on, Bunny, let's get you cleaned up. " Even in his drunken state, he still needed to take care of you.

"Can't move. You fucked me too well." you sighed.

"I think you did most of the work Bun, you fucked me."

"I did, didn't I?" You smile at the realization.

"Don't get cocky now" He slapped your ass, and you jumped up out of bed with Eddie following close behind you.

[obsessednothing]

Her

George Russell x fem!reader

Summary: being stood up by your fiancé a week before the wedding is something woman doesn’t want to go through in her life, ever

Warnings: nothing special maybe heartbreak, break up, curse words, cheating, no use of Y/N, one use of L/N

A/N: I really love Sex and the City movies, so this is basically inspired by the events from the first movie. My English is sometimes hot or not, so I’m sorry for any mistakes! Please don’t use my writing without my consent, also I don’t own any of the pictures! Enjoy.

“There’s no possible cancellation, miss. You need to come to the honeymoon vacation or it’ll expire.”

Yes, the word honeymoon. Woman without a man. The man who stood her up week before their wedding. It was all perfect, everything about their love. And yet, here she stood, single, heartbroken and humiliated in front of the suite for newlyweds that carried their names Mr. and Mrs. Russell. Out of all the girls from the grid family, Kelly was the one to be there for her. She packed her up and got her on this vacation, because she already payed a lot for this to be a surprise for George. One that he’d never forget, one with which she’d shown him how she loved him.

For two days straight she only slept. Kelly fed her a little with some fruits and yogurt from breakfast. It was painful to watch her close friend to suffer like this. She looked pale, her face puffy from all the crying, and her gaze was dull.

As the night fell on the resort in Mexico, Kelly picked up her phone, Max was FaceTiming her.

“Hey, babe. How is it going?” He asked with frown.

“Hey, love… please, promise me, that if you ever want to break up with me, don’t you dare to propose to me before that.” Kelly said in sadness.

“How is she?”

“It’s bad. She’s sleeping for second day already. You should see her face when she saw the name tags on the door… it was like a punch in the gut.”

“I’m really glad, that you’re there with her, Kells. She deserves the best. I must’ve restrain myself very hard to not punch George when I saw him at the paddock today.”

“Wait, what? He’s back at racing? I thought that he was supposed to get a break from all that stuff, like he said to her.”

“Don’t say it to her, but… There’s this woman with him here, like a shiny bracelet on him. Lando nearly threw up from the sight of them and everybody here is giving him a silent treatment.”

“Holy shit… this is a nightmare.”

“Yeah… keep her away from socials, she doesn’t need more heartbreak than she already received.”

“No probs, babe. I’ll keep her occupied and her phone is with me anyway and it’s turned off.”

“Okay, I’ll keep you posted. Take care, love you.”

———

Fourth day into vacation she got up from bed, surprising Kelly at the terrace for breakfast.

“Hi, K.” She said, her voice raspy from all the sleep.

“Ah, the sleeping beauty. How are you today, darling?” Kelly hugged her instantly.

“It’s strange, but good. I think the most of the hurt is gone. I know it’s not that simple, but today is good and I’m gonna enjoy it.” She softly smiled but her eyes spoke another story. Kelly gave her a sympathetic look as they talked through the breakfast.

“Max is wishing you well. He’s so worried about you.” Kelly said sipping on her coffee.

“Aw, thanks. He’s a good man, Kelly.” She smiled kindly with little sigh.

“Hey, don’t let your mood flatten, we’re here to have a good time, you’ve worked hard for this. So, we’re gonna make the most of it.” Kelly said with amused smile.

And they did. Girls nights, partying a little, spending afternoons at the pool and beach, some trips around the resort too. Two weeks went by like a click, when they stood at the airport waiting for Max’s private jet.

It was also first time after that weeks of freedom when Kelly gave her her phone back.

“It’s time to go back to reality and I know it’s gonna be hard, but we’re gonna do this. Don’t get those things get to your head. You’re you and you’re the most amazing human in this world.” Kelly reassured her.

She turned on the phone with her stomach churning. Millions of notifications of messages, emails and tags. In the tons of photos at the socials she noticed that one photo, that George posted. She felt like she’s gonna throw up. All the sickness was back, the pain in her chest too.

“Mi amore. Love you to the moon and back.”

George and his new girlfriend. She was so pretty, like a doll. And god, how he was glowing.

As they boarded the plane, Kelly noticed the turn in the her mood as she slipped her phone to her bag.

“I guess you found out, don’t you?” Kelly asked with frown.

“Y-yeah. I don’t know what to say, it’s driving me insane. And he’s back at racing, he just… he’s a fucking liar.” She was at the rage stage.

“It’s gonna be okay. We‘ll manage.”

———

And it was true. Kelly managed to get a people to pack her things out of their shared apartment with George, the first day they went on that vacation. She didn’t want to stay in Monaco, she wanted to go back home to London, where her flat was for rent. She was lucky that it was free in the moment.

Getting from the Heathrow airport was like a blur, feeling all the nostalgia from the surroundings and memories of her past life were everywhere. But it didn’t hurt as much as when she finally unlocked the door to her apartment, getting in the known scent and looking over the boxes there and there. All her life packed like it meant nothing. She was in no mood to start unpacking, because she was afraid to untangle the suppressed emotions. It was a job for her in the next months.

———

It was like six months after the called off wedding. She shut down her socials, getting herself a fresh start with private profiles with a few people following on them. Her main public profile was still up, she didn’t post any new photos, the last post there was a photo of her tasting the sweet cake for wedding with caption wedding vibes #therussells.

She turned her attention to the direction of self love, reconnecting with her old friends in London and little bit of vacations and mainly work. Her going to the Monaco was absolute no go, so when someone from her grid friends wanted to see her, they needed to visit. But they were more than glad. Nobody talked about George, it was her strict rule number one. She practically erased him from her life and mind.

Life just has a strange ways to make things a little crazy.

Sunny morning in London, she went to the café for her morning coffee. She liked to try new places. As she was on the phone working already, she ordered a waited for the cup of hot love.

George sat in the corner of this café, looking through the newspaper like a classic English gentleman. His life turned upside down for the last six months. He was now reminiscing all the things he had done and how he hurt people around him. Brushing another feeling of shame off of him, he looked up from newspaper and his eyes found her standing at the order counter. It was like some nasty dream, ripping his heart apart for another time. She stood there, talking over phone, smiling with her classy appearance. Thinking about the way he wanted to approach her, he tried not to look suspicious. He was the one, who made her life hell, betrayed her the worst.

She slid her phone to her purse, got her coffee and turned around to get out of the café, when she spotted George already staring at her. She was so taken aback by seeing him, that she bumped into the glass door. Hard. Feeling her head spinning and the blood running from her nose, coffee was everywhere on her skirt. People around her was at her immediately, helping her, but she was in some kind of trance.

“Excuse me, please. I need to get to her. Hey, are you okay?” George got through the crowd to her, his protective persona on, getting his white napkin to wipe her bloody nose.

“I-I’m not…” she said still in shock.

“I’m going to take you to the hospital, you may have broken nose.” George frowned in guilt because his presence caused this.

She only nodded, there was no place for denying it. George gave her reassuring squeeze to her shoulder and guided her to his car, which was parked outside on the street. Feeling his hand on her back and on her arm felt strange.

Ride to the hospital was quiet. She held the napkin at her nose, blood was slowly stopping pouring, and she was staring in front of herself, still processing what just happened. She felt her anger rising in her, how dare he shows in her life now, when she’s been on the good way of healing her wounds.

“Why are you here?” She mumbled slightly wincing in pain.

“There’s race in Silverstone this weekend.” He said taking the last turn to parking lot at the hospital. As he stopped the car, she put all her strength to get out from the car without his help.

“You can go, I’m gonna take care of myself.” She took quick steps towards the hospital.

“Wait! I’m not gonna let you handle this alone. I caused this, so let me take care of it.” He ran after her, softly grabbing her arm.

“At least please just don’t touch me, George.” She got out of his grasp still walking.

They were waiting for doctor to see her, while George wrote down the application for her. He stopped at the column about family status. Flagging it as married, he hoped that he would get access to information about her condition. She just signed it off not caring about anything. Her phone rang, it was Kelly. Oh god, they were supposed to meet today.

“Hi, Kells. I really can’t talk right now.” She tried to talk coherently but her lips started to get swollen from the crashing to the door.

“You sound weird, are you okay?” Kelly asked in concern.

“Yeah, I just bumped into the door at the café, hard, that I might have broken nose. I’m currently at the hospital.” She sniffled a little blood.

“What?! I’m getting there, we’re already in London!”

“No, no! Actually I’m not here alone.” She looked up at George.

“You’re full of surprises, girl. Is that the new man, you’re seeing?”

“No, it’s not him. It’s George.”

George was listening to her conversation and pinpointed the word him. Is she seeing someone new? Is she in love with him?

“Holy shit, what the fuck?!”

“Calm down, K. I can’t talk right now, all you need to know, that I’m okay. I’m gonna text you, bye.”

She sighed putting her phone to her purse.

The awkward silence between them lasted for a while.

“Is there- are you-“ he started to ask but it came out as a blurt.

“I’m not seeing anyone, if that’s what you want to ask. I’m just tired of questions if I’m still single, so I said to my friends that I’m working on my dating life. So no. I can’t love anyone after what you’ve done to me and you have this sick luck of hurting me still.” She said with sad sigh.

“I’m sorry.” He said plainly.

That was words she wanted to hear from him all this time. She met his gaze full of guilt.

“I’m so so sorry. I was just stupid and foolish, I really didn’t care about things I had around me, in my life. I was so ungrateful. And I hurt the most precious thing in my life. You. No words can mend the wounds I caused. I just want to make it up to you, so bad.” His eyes was glistening with tears as he talked sincerely.

She processed all the words he just said. Her heart broke again, but now for him. For the way how he talked, how he was honest. After that months of silence between them and his lies from the last conversation they had together.

“I forgave you. A while ago. I just didn’t understand those lies you told me. About you taking a break from everything we shared together, that it drowned you. And then I saw that post on the socials, you back at track with her.”

George felt pang in his chest, he was deeply ashamed of his actions. Before he could say anything else, nurse peeked from the doctors office calling her inside. She stood up and George assisted her.

“You’re her husband right? You can come inside too.” Nurse politely smiled.

She wanted to protest but George interrupted her. “Yeah, I am. Thank you.”

After getting some scans and check up, doctor said, that she doesn’t have broken nose, just little bruised and that in few days the swelling would be gone same as bleeding.

George took her to her apartment, helping her with everything she needed. Sitting on the couch with cup of coffee in her hands, he was in process of putting the cream on the bruise on her nose. She sat still her eyes closed. He took in her features, how she was still herself. The same woman he loved, and still loves.

“You’re supposed to be with her, not with your ex fiancée.” She said while opening her eyes to look at him.

“I’m not with her for some time now. As much as it was mesmerising, it wasn’t it. I had time to think about my mistakes. I was the number one asshole.”

“You were, that’s for sure. I was so mad at you, angry and pissed off. You just threw our lives we built together out of the window. We could’ve talk about that, I would understand anything. But not that huge heartbreak you put me through. I had a surprise honeymoon booked for you. And I went on it with Kelly, because it cost really so much money…” her eyes were filled with tears as she relived the memories of pain.

George looked down in shame, he was pained by his actions towards her. She truly loved him, deeply, she was always so caring and he was… him.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve talk to you more, not just tear you from me and destroy our life.”

Their conversation was interrupted by doorbell.

“That’s most likely Kelly and Max.” Grace said. George retreated from her as she stood up to get to the door. As she opened, Kelly hugged her immediately and Max looked through the space for George with mad look.

“How are you, love?” Kelly looked at her nose with frown.

“I’m good, Kells, really. George took care of me.” She softly smiled.

“Really? No doubt that he did.” Max looked with narrowed look at George, who stood in the doorframe to living room.

“I’m on my way out, I see that she’s in good hands.” George said plainly.

“In the best hands.” Kelly said with not amused look.

She sighed tired from all the tension.

“Take care.” George kissed her forehead lightly as he brushed off around them.

All three of them were looking at his figure until he disappeared in the elevator.

“How- what the actual fuck?” Kelly asked looking at her flushed face.

“Kells, please.” Max groaned at the word fuck.

She took them inside as she prepared some coffee for them.

“How was your flight?” She asked casually.

The duo looked at her in disbelief. “You just had your ex in your home and you’re asking us about flight?”

“Yeah and yeah?”

“Tell us everything!”

She sat in front of them in the armchair. “I was at the café this morning, you know, I like to try new places and he just happened to be there. I spotted him and I was so in shock, that I crashed to the glass door. He got me to the hospital, took care of everything. And he apologised for everything he put me through. He said that he was number one asshole.”

Max snorted as Kelly looked over him with stern look.

“And then you came and that’s it.”

“He kissed you. You’re okay with that?” Kelly asked sipping on her coffee.

“Why not?”

“Because he practically left you at the altar?”

“Oh that. I nearly forgot about that.” She gave her an sarcastic smile.

“You’re falling for his lies again.”

“No, I’m not. We just talked, he was nice. I deserved to know, what was on his mind and behind his actions. I can move on now.”

“Can you?”

The question was hanging in the space. She was sure, to this day, that she wouldn’t even lay her eyes on him. But it was all nice and she felt loved again. All the wrong things.

“Can you?” Kelly asked again.

“Fine! I don’t know!” She rolled her eyes.

“You’re unbelievable. He broke your heart, you were a mess. And now he’s messing with you again.”

“I know, I know all that. And I’m grateful for the care you have for me. But… it’s complicated.”

“It’s not. You love him.” Max interrupted them. Kelly gave him another look of disbelief.

“I’m not sure, I don’t know. I’m not ready for anything but it feels so close to home.”

“Jeez… just be careful. Anyway, it’s perfect timing really, because we wanted to get you to spent a weekend at Silverstone with us.” Kelly said with sour face, now her idea sounding not so perfect.

“I need to think about it. And I don’t know how this thing will turn out to appear.” She pointed to her bruised nose.

“You know the power of makeup, dear.” Kelly rolled her eyes.

“As much as I like you here with me I need some space right now.” She said with sigh.

“Just think about it and give me a call and we’ll manage it. You could use some fun around old friends.” Kelly said while she hugged her.

Max gave her reassuring smile as they walked into the elevator.

———

She took a shower as she thought about George. How his fingertips felt against her skin, his scent calming her down, how he looked at her with care and love, he was completely different. He looked like he was ready to die for her.

Then there was the other side. How she felt humiliated when he left her at the restaurant in Monaco with smile, ready for his new life.

How the ring on her left hand was somehow heavy.

Thoughts there and there, she needed to be honest with herself.

She loved him. Still. And truly. Even after all of this.

As she laid in bed scrolling through her phone, she got a call from unknown number.

“I have a package for you, is this Ms. L/N ?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

She went down to receive the mystery package. Back at the apartment, she opened it. There was VIP and paddock pass with her name, also she spotted a sticky note with handwriting.

“Just in case you want to have fun on the weekend. GR”

Her heart skipped a beat as she read those words. Snapping a photo of it she sent it to Kelly with comment I think the plans are clear for the weekend. Kelly answered with crazy emojis and comment I can’t wait.

She decided not to tell George that she’s actually coming, because he deserved a little silent treatment. He’s gonna need to win her heart back.

As the Saturday approached, she was already on her way to the paddock gates. The first she spotted her was Lando.

“Oh my god! Am I dreaming?” He nearly shouted as he hugged her tight.

She giggled happily. “No, this is real.”

Greeting with others went well as she arrived at the Mercedes hospitality, her stomach churning and turning in nervous way, reliving all the memories she had there. She got to chat with some people, which were surprised that she’s there. Nobody had the courage to ask her, why she’s there and she was glad.

Grabbing some coffee she stood outside on the little terrace looking at the Silverstone track. It was like coming back to home.

“You came.” The voice said behind her causing her to turn around. There stood George, wearing his Mercedes shirt and white pants along with kind smile.

“I thought that you not being sure if I’d come, would be a good treatment for you.” She sipped her coffee with a little smile.

“I absolutely deserve that.” He said coming to her side.

“I’m sorry about yesterday. Kelly and Max were there for me for all that shit you put me through. They’re worried.”

“I understand that. They’re really good friends. I’m grateful that they helped you through tough times.”

“I thought I’d never see this again.” She looked over the track.

“I thought I’d never see you here again.”

“I don’t want to poke in that hurtful things from past anymore. If anything, I want things from fresh start.”

“Again, I’m sorry. And I understand.”

“You know, it’s not like winning race to win my heart.”

“I’d likely do both.”

“We’ll see.”

She chuckled as she was enjoying messing with him.

“Good luck.” She smiled softly giving his arm a little squeeze as she walked out to find Kelly.

———

George got the pole position and she couldn’t be more proud. She fought that huge smile on her face as she noticed, how Kelly was watching her. Max took a second place.

She leaned against the frame of the entrance to the Mercedes garage, where George celebrated with everybody around him. Then he noticed her standing there and smiling proudly. Immediately he walked towards her getting her into his tight embrace while she giggled.

“You’re incredible, George.” She said laughing.

“You’re my lucky charm.” He said as he placed kiss to her hair. His embrace was warm and soft. All she missed that long.

“Please, just don’t let me go.” She whispered to his chest.

“I’m not gonna make that mistake ever again.”

[jarofstyles]

hey lovely, don't wanna bother u bc you specifically put ceo but those harry pics are making me think dad's friend! harry. like maybe he is married or not. just... dirty thoughts. he is looking very very dilfy.

ACTUALLY UR CORRECT because it does also give that vibe…. So I got a bit out of hand and made it filthy.

Patreon

Warnings- age gap, daddy kink, teasing, bratty y/n, name calling/ degrading… it’s dirty but if u want more I’ll definitely continue lol

——

It was always the things she shouldn’t want. Chocolate after midnight, peeking in on Christmas gifts, looking over someone’s shoulder as they texted. Y/N knew she had a taste for things that should not be- but she had definitely taken the cake when it came to the man sitting next to her at the dinner table.

In all fairness, she hadn’t been the only one looking. It was his gaze on her legs that she noticed the first night they were introduced that she had her interest peaked, but it had been nearly impossible for her to leave it alone. Not when he was such a staple in the family dinners they had, the parties her parents threw, hell- he had even joined them at the very lake house they were at now. It was indeed Harry’s lake house that he had offered up for them to use for their annual summer vacation, her father gratefully taking the opportunity. He was just blind to the reason why.

Fucking your father’s best friend was probably one of the worst things you could do, but when they looked like Harry? She doubted many people could blame her. She’d always been into older men and seeing one as successful and charming as the man to her left, it wasn’t hard to give into the temptation. There was guilt there, of course. There was always the knowledge that this wasn’t exactly right and it would hurt feelings. But she wanted to be selfish for once.

The first time they’d said it was one and done. Get it out of their system. The second time they’d called it a mistake. The third they’d blamed alcohol and a wedding. By the forth they’d stopped making excuses. Now she knew the man’s tattoos, knew the spot on his neck he liked to be kissed, she knew his favorite position to fuck her in and that he had the most talented tongue she had ever experienced. She was becoming an expert in all things Harry right under the nose of her parents, who saw him as their great friend.

Her fingers ran over his thigh as he spoke, calm as ever while he sipped his bourbon. He didn’t spare her a glance as they trailed to the inner thigh, her other hand bringing the wine glass to her mouth and her tongue being greeted by the tart bite of the notes in the blend. Harry had gotten this with her in mind, she was positive. Not too sweet.

They were talking about something she, quite frankly, didn’t give a fuck about. They were in two different businesses but somehow found some way to talk about stocks or something like that. Y/N didn’t particularly care as long as Harry kept giving her cute little gifts like the diamond tennis bracelet he’d brought her when they first arrived and he snuck her into his bedroom.

They weren’t alone on this vacation- their little friend group of a few men and their wives and grown kids were at the table too, but her focus was on Harry. His rolled up sleeves and hair freshly cut, cropped close tot he sides and growing a bit longer at the top. A perfect amount to run her fingers through.

She knew she was getting into trouble when her fingers brushed his semi hard prick laying under his trousers, a smirk kicking up the side of her mouth. He gripped his glass a bit tighter, eyes cutting to the side discreetly to give her a look. Y/N didn’t move her hand, instead running her fingertips over the bulge and pretending to be engaged in the conversation.

Of course she was going to pay for this. But the rush made her even more wet. Doing this in front of people, being bratty because she wanted his dick inside of her two fucking hours ago and this dinner was dragging on, she was aiming for him to give in. Her ass would be sore tomorrow but she would love each stinging slap and yank of her hair.

“Cut it out.” He mumbled, hiding his lips with the glass. The words were quiet enough, just for them. The conversation continued around them and no one was the wiser, oblivious to the hand palming over the older man’s cock under the tablecloth.

“Make me, Daddy.” Her soft whisper purred, eyes glittering with mischief. She’d signed her own punishment papers there, watching his own gaze darken before shooting back the rest of the drink that was meant to be sipped and savored. Giddiness shot ip her spine as he ripped her hand off, stretching slightly in his chair before saying he needed to call it a night. There was the unspoken promise that laid under his words, the secret message in his tone that meant for her to follow.

It didn’t take her long to scurry up the stairs and find the master bedroom, slipping inside the dimly lit room- only to be grabbed roughly from behind, a gasp leaving her lips as she was pressed against the door. The click of the lock was quiet, his labored breathing against her ear making her grin widely as his cock pressed into her ass. “You just had to be a fucking brat, didn’t you?” He growled, wrapping her hair around his fist and tugging back so she arched into him. “Gagging for it that much, touching me right in front of your family?” Lips ghosted her neck, making her shudder as the sting in her scalp made her whimper. This was exactly what she wanted, what she deserved. “Dirty whore. Fucking cockslut.”

The degrading words were spit in a way that would make the normal girl want to tear up, but Y/N knew she was exactly what he described. She was a cockslut just for him. “What are you going to do about it, Daddy?” The slightly delirious giggle left her as if she wasn’t about to be fucked brainless, but she loved every fucking second of this. Harry didn’t treat her like a little girl. He treated her like a woman, gave her the things she needed. He fucked like a real man should, something she knew no one else could replicate for her. “Are you going to fuck me with them just a few doors down? Don’t think you’re going to make me scream loud enough to get caught…” her mouth dropped as she felt his teeth graze her throat, wishing he could bite down. Not here, not when she had to wear her summer dresses and tank tops.

“No. I’m going to shut you up.” Y/N didn’t have a chance to react before fingers were shoved into her mouth. The two long digits hooking over her teeth, prying her mouth open as she whined, feeling him grind his thickening cock over her ass. She had wanted this so badly, the neediness of her weepy pussy only reacting to him. Her own fingers never did it justice. He’d ruined her in ways she hadn’t expected to ever be ruined, but she wouldn’t change it for the world. “You aren’t going to make a fucking sound unless you want your father to know how disgusting you are. Like to call me Daddy with my cock pounding your perfect little holes.” He hissed, breath washing over her ear as he pressed her further into the door. “So you’re going to shut the fuck up and lift that pathetic excuse of a dress up so I can slip into the sloppy cunt and make sure you keep your hands to yourself tomorrow.”

[brucewaynehater101]

It would be sad if Tim was a dove

his parents show off him and his likenesss to angels at galas before leaving him alone again

After a long night of fighting in the city smog and grime goes to vacation at his wings look similar to Jason’s pigeon wings and the way Bruce looks at him? That hurts

if they have traits of their birds welp mourning doves mate for life and will just like slowly sink into depression without their love, and everyone Tim has ever loved dies constantly so that’s neat

during the tt attack Jason goes at them bc “doves are just better pigeons” and Jason is grumpy

people seem to forget that doves are used at weddings and funerals, they are a blessing and an apology

dick hates Tim’s wings at first bc divks moms wings were like a Eurasian collared doves wings (dick inherited his dads wings) so every time he sees them he is reminded of her

Damian probably see them as another part of his perfect brother, can do nothing wrong so everyone hates me compared to him lenses that Damian wears bc a bird with undying loyalty and easy to train?

Steph probably preened with Tim as like bonding, instead of just cleaning, and Tim probably was just so happy

The shot in the back ruined one of Babs wings as well and so she probably has Tim fly around and grab the things she needs up high and he listens like a good little brother

Tim approaches Duke when he is all moved in and offers to help him preen (dukes parents always did it with him) and this helps duke feel included

It would be fun if one day Tim gets really hurts and his feathers are tinted red when they find him

Oh, fuck. I love pigeons. Sorry. I got distracted... but the symbolism with Jason being a pigeon???

Fuck.

Right. Quick history with pigeons: They were originally domesticated animals and the oldest documented domesticated bird. Their wild lifespan is 2-5 years. If they are domesticated, it's 15 up to 30 years.

They are loving, intelligent animals. They are some of the few birds to:

Have a form of milk

Mate for life

Equal child-rearing between sexes

Recognize themselves in mirrors

Humans threw away pigeons after using them for message carrying, bombs, and spying.

The wealthy used to breed pigeons to have appealing features (which can be used as Jason's initial misconceptions about why Bruce Wayne is adopting him in this AU).

They are widely considered to be pests, vermin, or "rats with wings."

Some more symbolism with Jason, pigeons have a "GPS" and can find home from an unfamiliar place up to 620 miles away. Maybe something something Jason wandering closer to Wayne Manor before the LoA captured. Something about the Pits fucking with his homing abilities.

Anyways. I got distracted.

Tim as a dove... Let's go!

Pigeon and dove, according to online research, are used interchangeably. Some languages translate them the same (symbolism with Tim and Jason???)

Saw a joke about doves being pigeons with good PR

Doves are typically smaller than pigeons but have a longer tail

Doves are symbols of peace, though they have been used in war like pigeons

Mourning doves make flimsy, fast nests and are not picky about location (something something Tim with the Waynes??)

Mourning doves are some of the most adaptable species in North America, they are skitish, and they are chill

Apparently, wedding doves are typically just pigeons???? If they aren't pigeons, then they don't have the homing properties and are endangered by the sudden release into the wild

Anyways, totally fucking with this idea ^^

[justwinginglife]

Helooooo!! can I please request Soshiro finally introducing his fiance to his Father and Brother? Or maybe they're already married and have a kid and they went to introduce the child!💕💕

Loud Love

Soshiro hadn’t shut up since you agreed to marry him.

He was always a talker, but your engagement to him sent him into a perpetual state of gleeful frenzy. 

He’d wake up everyday and immediately snuggle closer to you, murmuring how lucky he was over and over again. He’d brush his teeth, mouth filled with foam, and gush about how excited he was to marry you. He’d pick out his outfit for the day then ask you a million times what you thought you’d wear on the wedding day. You responded by telling him it was a secret to which he’d pout but then he’d grin and say “Okay baby, I can wait for you.”

And you were sure your friends and your coworkers were sick of him skipping around, drunk on love, as he told literally anyone and everyone who walked by that you were his fiancee. He talked of nothing else and everyone was done with it but you.

Okonogi, as sweet and as caring as she was, had already scolded the two of you many times, telling you to get a room before she barfed. She had even slapped Hoshina with a rolled up newspaper when he asked her if she’d help you pick out lingerie for the wedding night and then secretly tell him what you’d gotten. She said she absolutely did not want to know what you were going to wear when you got freaky with the Vice Captain. 

Shinonome had always been jealous that Hoshina was so much more verbal of his love than Narumi was, but after hearing him word-vomit for hours on end about how much he was obsessed with you, she was glad Narumi wasn’t a talker. 

Nakanoshima held out the longest- she was used to crazy antics, having usually been the one perpetuating them. But at some point, even she thought that Hoshina was way too down bad for you. “Is it even possible for someone to be that love crazy?? It’s not natural.” 

But you thought he was perfect. You thought it was so cute that when the mail carrier dropped by with packages, Soshiro dragged you over so he could show you off to the guy before he signed off on the packages, exclaiming “Isn’t my fiancee such a beauty??” (of course, when the guy agreed with him, Soshiro then proceeded to protectively pull you closer to him, saying “Yeah, but you can’t have her, she’s mine”). And when the takeout guy delivered your food, when the cab driver came to pick you up, Soshiro did the same exact thing, over and over again. He just couldn’t stop parading you around. He was in love, and this was how he showed it. 

He was so high on happiness, that even when he had to work, when he had to fight, his adoration and devotion continued. He’d walk right up to a Kaiju and say, “Now, the love of my life is going to kill you now, but it’s okay because it’s an honor to be killed by someone so gorgeous. I mean, I’d die by her hands too.” Then you’d bash its core in, giggling like a schoolgirl and he’d admire your handiwork, showering you with compliments about your form and your talent. 

Eventually, Captain Ashiro gave you both a week off of work, just to save the base from the cheesy, flirty banter the two of you so publicly displayed, so frequently. Even she had grown tired of the lovey-dovey routine, happy as she was for you both, and she hoped you’d take this small vacation far, far away from the rest of them. Give them a bit of respite, so that they could still like you when you came back. 

Soshiro took this golden opportunity as a chance to take you back to his hometown. He wanted to show you where he grew up, and to introduce you to his family. He’d even made preparations so his brother, the Captain of the Sixth Division, would be home to meet you. He was beyond excited, even “ecstatic” didn’t begin to cover the extent of his feelings. 

He couldn’t sit still through the train ride. At first, he tried to- he snuggled up to you and rested his head on your shoulder, letting the train shift you back and forth against him. But then he wanted to show you the view as they got closer and closer to his town and he’d run back and forth across both sides of the train car to point out different sights to you. And then eventually he got so giddy he couldn’t sit back down anymore, he would just hum to himself as he paced beside you. You weren’t surprised, you’d been with him in bed, you knew how much energy he had. He was like a little golden retriever and you adored him for it. 

Finally, you arrived at your destination. 

You thought that he would be in a rush to take you to his family, but to your surprise, he wanted to give you the entire tour of his town first. He showed you the tree he had tried and failed to climb when he was younger, breaking his arm when he hit the ground wrong. He had been scared it wouldn’t heal right and he’d never be able to wield a sword properly again. He showed you his favorite places to train, his favorite places to run away to and avoid his family, his favorite places to hangout. You met all his neighbors, you met the owner of a convenience store that Soshiro frequented a lot when he was younger, you even met Soshiro’s barber (and thanked him for making your fiance look adorable every single time). 

With all this socializing, you felt you had to be prepared to meet his family now, you were already in the groove of things. But as you stood at the doors to the Hoshina manor, you felt your nerves seeping in. You remembered how Soshiro would tell you that his father had wanted him to give up on joining the Defense Force because it wasn’t logical. If he didn’t bless this union, if he didn’t see a future for the two of you, would he ask you to give up Soshiro? He’d have to suffer through his disappointment if he did, because you would never give Soshiro up. You were selfish, you couldn’t live without him. And you were greedy enough to hope he couldn’t live without you either. 

So you took him by the hand, hopes and dreams piled high, as you stepped into his childhood home. You could face anything, as long as he was beside you. 

He must’ve felt the uneasiness weighing you down, because he pressed a kiss to your hand, whispering, “It’s alright, I’ve got you.”

His parents are the first to greet you (they explain that Soichiro will be joining later).

They welcome you more warmly than you imagined they would, and it allows you some slight respite from your fears, your breath coming more naturally to you now.

You notice he got his looks from his mom, and presumably his strength and his skill from his dad. As you talk with them more, you discover his skill actually mainly came from sparring with his brother, and his stubbornness was a result of losing those spars with his brother. 

You wish you could’ve seen little Soshiro, sulking after another lost round, demanding for a rematch over and over until his body ached. You’ve only ever known cocky Soshiro, smug Soshiro. Soshiro, who was never unsure that he’d prevail in a fight. Soshiro, who was never afraid to challenge those who were supposedly better than him, butting heads with even the famous Captain of the First Division. Soshiro, who upon first seeing you, immediately began pursuing you with a frightening amount of fervor. Or it would have been frightening if it had been anyone but you; in actuality, you thought his passion and intensity were endearing, or at the very least, intriguing. You couldn’t wait to see what he had up his sleeve next. And he kept entertaining you every single day until that entertainment became fondness and that fondness became love. 

And now, here you were, begging his parents to like you, to accept you, to bless your union. You knew it was usually the man asking the woman’s family for their blessing, but you couldn’t help but feel the need to reassure the Hoshinas that you would take care of him. You would love him all your days. You would treat him the way he deserved, and support him the way that he needed. You wouldn’t just move mountains for him, you’d move solar systems. You needed them to know that, and you needed him to know that.

So, as Soshiro and his parents enjoyed their tea, you thought you’d take advantage of the silence. 

“I love your son.” You blurted out, causing everyone at the table to turn to you. “I love him more than anyone ever has or ever will. I love him so much it hurts, I love him so much that the hurting is blissful. I love him more than I did yesterday and the day before, and tomorrow I’ll love him more than I do today. I love him in this universe and every other one. I love who he was, who he is, and who he will be. I love every version of him, every detail of him, everything that there is to love- I love it all. I love him so much that I came here, with hopes high, even despite my fears, to meet you all. Because I want to know him more. Because I want to love who he loves. And if you could find it in your hearts to allow me the privilege of marrying your son, I’ll love him to the ends of the earth and back and never stop. And if you somehow don’t approve of our marriage, I want you to know that I’ll keep on loving him regardless. I love him so much that I don’t physically know how to stop. And I’d never choose to stop. I’d choose him in a million lifetimes, without a second’s hesitation, without a single doubt in my mind, he’s the one for me. So. Anyway. Please let me marry your son.”

You ramble and you ramble, but suddenly, as you’re nearing the end of your rant, you find your confidence stumbling. You’ve said too much and you’re hoping they’ll still hear you out. You wonder if they stopped listening after the first few sentences. You wonder if Soshiro is embarrassed. You wonder if you’re brave enough to look at him. You’re not. You pick at your fingers and stare into your cup of tea, waiting for someone, for anyone to break the silence. 

“Well, I think that pretty much covers everything. Sounds like you’re a lucky guy, Soshiro.” A voice from behind splits the silence. You all turn to see Soichiro Hoshina sauntering towards you, excited to join in on the conversation. He grins from ear to ear as he slaps Soshiro on the back and ruffles his hair, calling him “little bro,” to which Soshiro responds by shoving him away, grumbling. 

With him here, and having so publicly approved of your little love declaration, his parents seem to relax more. They speak their agreement and your hands finally stop shaking. 

You did it. You got their blessing. And you also earn yourself the most loving gaze Soshiro has ever bestowed on you in the process. He squeezes your hand as he continues beaming at you. The man is practically overflowing with love for you and now it’s evident for everyone else to see. 

His family exchanges fond glances with each other before finally offering up their congratulations and best wishes to you both. 

His adoration gives you the confidence to say what you’ve been thinking for a long time now, and you’re so glad you can finally say it.

“God, I’m so excited to be a Hoshina.”

[honeipie]

the perfect present

izuku midoryia x fem!reader

synopsis: izuku midoryia. the number one hero, and your husband. his birthday is coming up and you have to find a present that suits him.

animated banners from @cafekitsune

w/c: 2.0k

“we all know that our favorite hero's birthday is swiftly approaching! so we’re all itching to know.. what are you getting your husband? i’m sure everyone is wondering how you deal with getting him a birthday present. i mean, the man can quite literally have anything he wants. people either give it to him or he can buy it with all the money he has from being a pro!"

it was your fault for thinking you could just go get a coffee in peace. especially around this time of year. ever since izuku had become number one people are starting to see izuku's birthday as a small holiday. they would have a small parade for him whether he decided to attend or not. though every year he did post out his humble thanks on social media.

you got into your car quickly shutting the door in the paparazzi's face. it wasn't the first time that this was being brought to your attention. from the first time izuku hit the ranks people have sent him elaborate gifts. from friends, family, and fans (lots and lots of fans) it stretched out from small handmade gifts to free week long vacations at the resort of his choosing. so yeah, there was a bit of pressure when giving him gifts. he'd always reassure you though that gifts from you were hands down his favorite.

though this year you wanted him to actually mean it. because last year you were sure that whoever gave him that extremely rare, limited addition all might figure beat you by a long shot. given it's displayed in his home office right next to your wedding picture.

it had taken you a while to really figure out what would mean the most to him in a gift, but you had finally figured it out. the only hard part was putting it all together in the short period of time.

---

"hm" izuku hummed rubbing his hands up and down your sides. a cheap paper birthday hat sitting crooked on his head "when can i open your gift?" he mumbled looking up at you. it was clear that he was slightly tipsy from the way his cheeks were dusted pink, and the fact that you had just told him the answer. you gently placed one hand on his cheek leaning in to give his nose a kiss.

"i told you baby. when they're finished outside" you smiled at his small pout and weak attempt to pull you in closer. you all had decided that it would be nice to have a get together centered around him. since it was just old friends, none of them cared about the proximity of you both.

five minutes had passed before the guys came in giving you a thumbs up.

"it's all set!" kirishima wrapped his arms around katsuki and kaminari who nodded in agreement.

"you sure you don't need help cleaning up y/n? we can stay" ochako offered already throwing things away along with the help of iida. you shook your head getting up from izuku's lap.

"no it's fine! you've already helped so much already" you said your goodbyes along with coaxing izuku to do the same. once they were all gone you shut the door and immediately felt a looming presence behind you. izuku wrapped his arms around your waist with a goofy smile.

"is it a sexy surprise? is that why they had to leave?" his hands roamed lower making you yelp with a giggle.

"izuku, no! it's not that kind of surprise" you turned and pulled away making him frown "but maybe you'll get that later. now c'mere" you grabbed his hand pulling him outside. he trailed behind you with curious eyes. though curiosity turned into confusion as he noticed what they had set up. it was an inflatable movie screen with a projector in front of it.

you guided him towards one of the couched you had in your backyard "take a seat and i'll explain" he nodded going to sit down as you brought the projector back then placed the computer in his lap "okay, so this is my gift to you. it's kind of like a little trivia game and you get rewards if you know that right answer. all of the answers will be numbers and when you get the number you click on the file that matches" you pointed to the computer full of files with different numbers. he noticed the piece of paper you were holding and decided to take a peek "so this is your first little question. how many students were there in class 1-A?"

"twenty" he said with no hesitation and went to find the file on the computer. a smile found its way onto his lips when he found it, but before he could click it, he noticed the weight shift on the couch. you were leaving. his hand instinctively went to grab yours "where are you going?"

you placed your hand over his "izuku this present is just for you. i promised i wouldn't look and you'll see why" you leaned in to place one last kiss on his cheek before walking back into the house to clean up. he watched as you walked inside but turned back to the computer. if this was how you wanted it to go then so be it. he clicked on the file which made the computer screen go dark.

"what the.." he mumbled trying to see if he broke it somehow, but his attention was quickly redirected when a video popped up on the inflatable screen and started to play.

familiar faces popped up on the screen with smiles as they waited for ochako to set the camera up just right.

“it’s perfect like that!”

“just make sure it doesn’t fall!”

“okay! okay!” she carefully stepped back into the group with a smile "three.. two.. one.."

"happy birthday deku!" his old class yelled in unison, ringing out against the cool night air. his breath caught in his throat as he looked around at the people he once went to school with and was now fighting alongside in the real world.

well, almost everyone.

"we just wanted to let you know how much we love and appreciate you!"

"you've done something special for every single one of us man. we wouldn't be the heroes we are today without you! stay manly!"

"agreed, thank you for everything you have done midoryia. we owe you" iida nodded firmly giving him a thumbs up. each one of them making sure to give their love before ochako grabbed the camera bringing it closer.

"we love you!" they all shouted before the video shut off.

crickets replaced the sound of their voices. he could feel the slight sting in his eyes which was an all too familiar feeling for him. his hand was quick to wipe them away before looking down at the next card.

how many kids have you saved?

how many people do you protect in japan every day?

what was your childhood apartment's number?

all might was which wielder for one for all?

each video held people that he cared about. all of them expressing their love for the green haired hero. the more files he opened, the closer he was to crying. though he wouldn't let himself, not yet. there were still two more that he needed to open.

how old were you when you met kacchan?

the mouse hovered under the 'five' file. he had forgiven him a long time ago, hell, he didn't even know if he was mad at him in the first place. it was only during the war where he expressed any type of emotion about their relationship.

a deep breath left his lips as he clicked on the file.

katsuki's face showed up on the screen looking softer than usual "this fuckin' thing.." he mumbled going to make sure it was recording "alright.. if you're watching this then it means it's your birthday, so happy birthday deku" he sighed scratching his head "when your wife asked me to do this i'm not going to lie i thought it was dumb way to stroke your ego, so i said no. but then i thought about it some more and realized that i'm the one with an ego not you. you've always been humble even after you were given the most powerful quirk on earth to date" katsuki shrugged as if they talked like this all the time "as much as i hate to say it, you've taught me things. whether i was willing to learn or not. if i were to say i am the hero i am today because of only myself that would be a lie. you helped show me what a genuine hero is.. so thanks you idiot" katsuki went to turn the camera off but then another video was clipped at the end "and if you tell anybody i said this to you i'll blow your damned brains out you got that you nerd!-" the video then stopped abruptly cutting off the number two hero.

hot tears ran down the man's freckled cheeks as the clip closed out. it had taken years of hard work, but it felt like there was something inside him that finally healed. izuku sniffled taking one of the tissues from the side table which you had left out for him. always so thoughtful.

after taking a moment to gather himself once more, he picked up the very last card.

how many carats is your wife's ring? (which you did an amzing job picking by the way)

he chuckled at your little note beside it before clicking on the very last file. your face popped up on the screen with your bright smile right in the camera.

"oh! sorry if there's anything in my nose. i didn't check before this started" he laughed watching as you went to back up. you sat down on the couch of your shared living room. he couldn't help but admire you sitting there. he remembers when the two of you first bought the house. going from store to store to pick out the most perfect decorations that would satisfy both of your tastes. even though he said he was happy with whatever you loved.

"hi my love, and happy birthday. i hope you liked this little gift i put together for you. i know it's not some impromptu vacation, but i hope you enjoyed it at least a little bit. i guess my video is just going to be a repeat of what you already know. just that i love you and i am so so proud of you not only as a hero but as a person. i know how hard it is for you to ask for help sometimes, so just the fact that you feel comfortable with me is enough. you've come so far from all that you've endured in high school til now. i hope you had an amazing birthday izuku midoryia. i love you!" you blew a kiss to the camera before going to shut it off.

izuku let out a shutter of a laugh, that quickly turned into a cry. though these weren't tears of sadness, but the absolute opposite. he stood up and made his way back into the house. you had just finished wiping down the dining room table and felt him before you saw him. two big arms wrapped around your torso. a rather familiar feeling that you hoped you would never forget. you should feel a slight shake to his body which had you turning around.

tears could be seen streaming down the man's face but he didn't have an ounce of shame. you grabbed the bottom of your shirt going to wipe them off but he didn't give you a chance. his arms pulled you into a tight hug. one hand resting on the middle of your back the other on the back of your head. you wrapped your arms around him head laying on his chest.

and the two of you stood there. izuku's quiet cries being the only noise that filled your living room.

he needed this.

you didn't know how long it had been before he spoke up, but it really didn't matter.

"thank you.." he whispered out giving you one last squeeze. you pulled away ignoring the newfound wetness on your sleeve.

"of course izu. happy birthday"

[a-twistedheartslonging]

IM LOVING UR NONHUMAN AU.

Do you think Crowley would be protective of us? Maybe fend off the beasties that try to court us?

That's a cute thought.

Realistically, Crowley is a dick that often leaves the protagonist to fend for their self and pushes them to take care of dangerous stuff that they really shouldn't have to.

But on the other hand…hehe birb dad.

One of the reasons he avoids us is because of the whole us “wanting a way home thing.”

Imagine his surprise when you tell him you would rather stay. Maybe you don't have a family, maybe the family you have is horrible, or maybe it's because our world is a polluted mess with a cruddy economy. Regardless it means he doesn't have to (pretend) to put in the work of sending you home. 

Well, as long as there's a place for you to stay that is. He is sort of your guardian and it would be in the best interest of himself and the entire school if you stayed.

Now a thing I like to think about…this man is likely lonely. I mean, a lot of people don't like the guy. (for good reason) The students and teachers are tired of his shit, though he and Trien seem to be homies and have tea together, the guy’s cat still hates him. Crowley also doesn't have a mate or any hatchlings waiting at home for him.

Combine the guilt trip of having nowhere else to go, add his loneliness, and then butter the guy up. I would say you have a good chance of getting him attached.

Imagine he sees you heading his way and is about to screw off cuz he doesn't want to deal with whatever thing you need to get fixed or have to complain about, you catch the sleeve of his coat before he can, and so he braces himself. But instead of asking him for something or scolding him you simply ask him about his day and how he's doing.

Birdman is shook.

Bit by bit the tasks and chores he gives you are ones where you'll be around him or he’ll randomly pop in to check in on you while doing them. Soon you end up being the preferred person for making and bringing him his tea. He pretends to nap on his office couch while you do his paperwork. May even ask you to help him file his claws on occasion. If it wasn't so dire for you to take care of things at the school he would be half tempted to bring you along on one of his vacations. If you give him anything it's going on his desk and he will brag about it to anyone who enters his office.

His cheap ass isn't going to spoil you but he will bring you small gifts. Usually the random shiny thing and small souvenir from his trips away. You might start finding loose feathers around Ramshackle and more crows around who also bring small things.

He starts thinking up plans for you to stay on as official faculty of the school once graduating. Of course, it's only because you are super useful and not because he’ll miss you or anything…

It doesn't really hit him until after he sees one of the teachers getting all father figure-y with you and he gets jealous.

Displeased bird noises.

Even before he started to get attached to you he did keep an eye on you, your easy prey amongst beasts after all, but he does develop a habit of popping in more when a boy happens to show his interest in you…or anytime he thinks someone is trying to sneak in and swipe his unofficial dad role…he does a lot of that with Crewel and Trien in particular.

Still, even with his affection for you, he’s still very much…him and the boys know this. Not long till he finds the more well-off beasty boys in his office offering donations to the school in exchange for certain things. More info about you, making you a member of his dorm, ect. A few have learned that the best thing to butter him up with is to talk about what a kind and generous father figure he is and how lovely it would be for Crowley to give the perfect away on their wedding day.

As a result, he, and probably Grim, are going to nudge you toward certain preferred suitors.

[amethystarachnid]

You're doing so much for Tony's fans 🥹

Please can you write a one-shot with Tony and reader going on vacation to a very cold and snowy place? Reader is pregnant, and they want to spend some time together before the baby arrives... Tony pampering the reader, kissing her belly, talking to the baby, cuddling by the fireplace, watching movies, Tony making them hot chocolate... all that cute stuff you can include 🥹💗

SNOWY LOVE - part I

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance fluff,

ᯓ★ Request from: normal request

ᯓ★ Story type: short fanfic

ᯓ★ Part II

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.8k

ᯓ★ Summary: nothing more than what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing, this is really just a rom-com

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

Snowflakes drift lazily down from a soft, silver sky as you look out the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse. It’s a quiet morning—rare, with Tony’s unpredictable schedule and the ever-demanding world outside. But here, in the warm comfort of your shared home, you’re both wrapped up in a blanket of stillness. You rest a hand on your slightly swollen belly, the weight of it oddly comforting, already so much a part of you.

Tony watches you with that glint in his eye—the one that means he’s about to say something just on the edge of outrageous.

“So, how do you feel about a vacation?” he says, sliding his arms around you from behind, his hands settling possessively over your belly. His fingers splay out, warm and protective, and he leans down to press a kiss to your temple. “You, me, somewhere snowy. A little chalet up in the mountains. Luxury, of course,” he adds with a smirk. “Just us, before our world gets a lot… noisier.”

You laugh softly, leaning back into him. "Snow? Mr. Stark, are you sure you can handle the cold?"

“Hey, I’ve got plenty of ways to keep you warm,” he murmurs, lips trailing down to your ear. You can practically feel his smirk as he nuzzles you, his hands moving slowly in circles over your belly. It’s something he’s done since you started showing—this fascination he has with your stomach. Sometimes it’s like he’s more excited about the bump than you are.

But the idea of a trip sounds perfect. Just the two of you, tucked away in some winter wonderland with no interruptions, no Avengers business, and no noise but the crackling of a fire.

“Alright, Tony,” you agree, turning around to look into those warm, mischievous eyes. “Book it.”

A week later, you’re gazing out at an impossibly serene winter landscape from the floor-to-ceiling windows of a sprawling, secluded chalet. The world outside is a pristine blanket of snow, untouched and glistening under a brilliant winter sun. The whole place is filled with all the luxuries Tony insisted on, but you hardly notice them. Just being here, far from the city, feels like a dream.

Tony insists on carrying you up to the bedroom, despite your protests. "You're carrying my baby," he says with a grin, as if that answers everything. And maybe it does. You can’t help but laugh as he sweeps you up and carries you over the threshold like he did on your wedding day, placing you gently onto the plush bed, which is already turned down and waiting.

“Comfy?” he asks, brushing a stray hair from your face. “Need anything? Foot rub? Bubble bath? Hot cocoa?”

“Tony, I’m pregnant, not helpless,” you tease, but his attentiveness melts your heart. You can tell he’s just as thrilled as you are to have this time alone together. He lies down beside you, his hand immediately finding its way back to your belly, resting there like it’s his anchor to you and to the little life growing inside.

“Not helpless, but definitely carrying precious cargo,” he murmurs, his thumb moving slowly over the curve of your belly. He’s quiet for a moment, looking almost shy, which is rare for Tony. His fingers trace gentle patterns, and you feel his lips brush against your temple again. He’s practically glued to you lately, as if being close enough to touch isn’t close enough.

“Hard to believe, huh?” he whispers, his voice low and tender. “That in a few months… we’ll be a family.”

You reach up, brushing your fingers along his jaw, softening the intense look in his eyes. “We already are a family, Tony.”

He smiles, and there’s something in his expression that looks almost vulnerable. “Yeah,” he says, nodding. “Guess we are.” He rests his forehead against yours, and you close your eyes, breathing him in. The smell of his cologne, the warmth of his hands—everything feels right.

As the sun dips below the mountains, casting a warm, golden light over the room, Tony pulls you closer. “You know,” he murmurs, voice thoughtful. “I’m going to spoil the hell out of this kid.”

“Oh, I have no doubt,” you laugh, already picturing it. “And the baby will be just as stubborn as you.”

He raises an eyebrow, feigning offense. “Excuse me, I think I’m very reasonable.”

You just shake your head, grinning. “Uh-huh. Sure, Mr. ‘I’ll-Build-a-Suit-Just-to-Prove-a-Point’.”

He chuckles, hands never leaving your belly, and you feel a flutter—small, but undeniable. You both go silent, wide-eyed, as the two of you share this first, private moment of feeling your baby move.

Tony’s hand stills, his face lit up with a mix of wonder and amazement. “Did… did you feel that?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, feeling your heart swell as you look into his eyes. He looks like he’s seen something miraculous, and maybe he has.

He leans down, pressing his lips to your belly, murmuring words you can’t quite hear, but you don’t need to.

The first morning in the chalet is calm and quiet, and Tony seems determined to keep it that way. You wake up to find him already awake, propped up on his elbow, watching you with a soft smile as he strokes gentle circles on your belly. It's become his little ritual, like he's memorizing every curve, every shift. His touch is warm, tender, and though you roll your eyes, pretending you find it excessive, you know it fills him with a kind of awe.

"Good morning," he murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss on your forehead. "How’s my girl? And our little peanut?"

You laugh, a light scoff. "You’re calling our kid peanut now?"

He shrugs, grinning as he continues his lazy circles on your stomach. “I like it. It’s cute. You know, like you.”

The day passes in much the same way. You’re still tangled in blankets by the fireplace hours later, Tony insisting you stay wrapped up, cozy, and “entirely off-duty.” You try to protest, of course, but he’s already thought of everything. He brings you mugs of hot chocolate topped with fluffy marshmallows, tucks you under layers of soft blankets, and ensures you don’t lift a finger.

"Tony," you groan playfully by midday, trying to wriggle out from under one of the million blankets he's wrapped around you. "I’m not going to break, you know."

He raises an eyebrow, shaking his head with a smirk. "Nope. No sudden movements for you. Doctor Stark’s orders. You’re staying right here, keeping warm, and giving me an excuse to keep you all to myself.”

“Tony,” you say, rolling your eyes with a laugh, “you always keep me all to yourself.”

"True," he admits, pulling you even closer, his eyes lighting up as he rests his hand, yet again, on your belly. His thumb traces a lazy arc over the slight swell, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. “But this… this feels different. I just want to make sure you’re safe. Both of you.”

You feel a warm blush creep up your neck. He’s normally so light-hearted, but when he talks about the baby—or you—he becomes almost reverent, so full of purpose. His gaze flicks from your face to the window, where snow drifts down in thick, fluffy flakes, blanketing the world outside.

“Look at that view,” he murmurs, as you both turn to take in the sight beyond the glass. “Snow as far as the eye can see. No distractions, no interruptions. Just us… just this.”

You lean back into him, smiling as he wraps his arms around you, the fire crackling softly in the background. It feels surreal, being here, tucked away from the world in a perfect little bubble. For a while, you both sit in silence, content to watch the snow fall and melt into the earth.

But after a day and a half of this "full relaxation" agenda, you're beginning to go a little stir-crazy. Tony’s fussing is sweet, but you miss having some independence. You shift a bit in his arms, trying to stretch out.

“Tony,” you start slowly, giving him a pleading look. “I can’t stay wrapped up in blankets for another minute. I feel like I haven’t moved in days.”

He laughs, a low chuckle, but there’s a sparkle in his eye, one that hints he’s had this plan all along. “Alright, alright, I guess I can let you get a little fresh air. But only a little,” he teases. “I didn’t bring you here just to let you wander off.”

You swat his arm lightly, rolling your eyes. “I just want a change of scenery, maybe step outside on the balcony and actually feel the snow, not just watch it.”

“Well,” he says with a grin, pulling you gently to your feet, his hands never quite leaving you, as if he’s afraid you’ll topple over. “Your wish is my command.”

He helps you bundle up—because of course, Tony insists you wear every warm layer he can find—and leads you out onto the balcony. The view is breathtaking, the mountains rising high and snow sparkling across the landscape, untouched and serene. You inhale deeply, the crisp air filling your lungs, and a sense of peace settles over you.

Tony comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, pressing you back against his chest as you both look out over the snowy expanse. His hand instinctively moves to your belly, resting there with a kind of possessive protectiveness. You feel his fingers splay out over the soft fabric of your coat, and you smile, resting your hand over his.

“You’re really into this dad thing already, aren’t you?” you say, a hint of amusement in your voice.

“Never thought I’d say this, but… yeah,” he replies softly, leaning down to nuzzle your neck. “I can’t help it. There’s this little person in there—half you, half me—and it’s… I don’t know. Amazing.” His voice is barely above a whisper, and you can feel the weight of his words, how much he means them.

You lean back into him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “It’s amazing for me too, you know.”

He smiles, warm and so full of love that it takes your breath away. For a moment, you stand there, quiet and still, feeling like the only two people in the world, with nothing but the mountains, the snow, and each other.

“Alright,” he says finally, breaking the silence with a lighthearted tone. “Now that I’ve fulfilled your wish for some fresh air… how about we go back inside?”

You laugh, letting him guide you back into the warm chalet. He’s never going to let you go five minutes without checking on you and the baby, and maybe that’s okay.

The next morning, you wake up with a mission. The peace and relaxation have been wonderful, but with the Italian Alps right outside, you’re itching for a little excitement. You’ve been sneaking glances at the slopes through the windows, watching skiers carve graceful lines in the fresh powder. It looks exhilarating. And you’re ready to try it yourself.

"Tony," you say, giving him your most persuasive smile as he sits on the edge of the bed, already rubbing a hand over your belly in his customary morning greeting.

"Hmm?" he asks, clearly distracted by the sight of his hand on your bump. It's almost become his morning routine: wake up, say good morning to you, then immediately direct his attention to the baby as if the two of you are separate entities he needs to greet individually.

“I want to learn to ski," you say, leaning forward eagerly. “And snowboard, maybe. We’re here, right? It’d be a crime not to at least try.”

His eyes widen in mock horror. "You want to what?"

“Ski. It’s a pretty common activity in the Alps, Tony. You might’ve heard of it?”

He narrows his eyes, crossing his arms and giving you the classic protective Tony look. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack? You’re pregnant. Skiing seems… let’s call it ‘ill-advised.’”

You roll your eyes, standing up to wrap your arms around his neck, giving him a gentle smile. “Relax, Iron Man. I’ll be careful, we’ll take it slow, and you’ll be there the whole time, Mr. I’ve-got-a-suit-for-everything.”

He sighs, but you can see he’s starting to relent. “Fine. But if anything even remotely looks too intense, we’re calling it quits. Deal?”

“Deal,” you agree, trying to keep the excitement from bubbling over as you pull him down for a quick kiss.

After bundling up and taking a car to the nearby resort, you’re thrilled to finally be on the mountain. The snow glistens under the bright sun, and you can feel the crisp air on your face as you look out over the slopes.

Tony has rented skis for both of you and has been cautious all morning, making sure everything is “pregnancy-friendly.” But you start to get suspicious when he leads you, hand-in-hand, toward the bunny hill—the tiny, kid-friendly beginner slope with ski instructors in bright colors and a smattering of tiny skiers who look no older than five.

"Uh, Tony?" you say, holding back a laugh as he hands you the kid-sized poles. “Are we… are we learning with the preschoolers?”

"Yes, ma’am,” he says with a grin, clearly proud of himself. “Only the best for you.”

You arch an eyebrow, planting a gloved hand on your hip. “Tony, I may be pregnant, but I’m not a toddler.”

"Hey," he says, feigning offense as he crosses his arms. "You’re always saying I should loosen up. This is me loosening up. And look," he gestures to the hill, "the kids look like they’re having a great time."

You look over and sure enough, a tiny kid in a neon green snowsuit zips by, wobbly but determined, his instructor cheering him on. Tony raises an eyebrow at you in victory, and you let out a laugh.

“Alright,” you say, trying to keep a straight face. “Teach me how to ski… over here on the baby slopes.”

"That's the spirit," he says, giving you an exaggerated wink. “Now, follow my lead.” He slides forward with a certain smugness, easing down the slope in a careful, exaggerated snowplow that’s almost as comical as it is effective. You try to copy him, mimicking the position, and you both start inching your way down the hill like two overgrown kids.

"You're actually not bad at this," he calls out, looking back to grin at you. "You know, for a beginner."

“Oh, please, I’m practically a natural,” you tease, wobbling as you hit a small bump. He’s instantly alert, gliding over to make sure you’re steady.

“Natural, huh?” he teases. “You know, if you master the bunny hill, you might just graduate to… the medium bunny hill.”

You give him a playful shove. “Oh, you’re hilarious, Tony.”

But despite all his ribbing, he’s by your side every step of the way, guiding you through the basics. And every time you start to get the hang of it, he’s quick to throw in a joke or a playful nudge, making you laugh so much that staying balanced becomes an impossible task. Eventually, you both end up tumbling to the snow in a fit of laughter.

“Alright,” he says, helping you to your feet and brushing snow from your jacket. “How about we reward ourselves with a little break at that bar up the hill?”

“Best idea you’ve had all day,” you agree, your cheeks rosy and your breath coming in happy puffs.

You find a cozy bar just up the path, perched near the slopes with a view of the mountains beyond. Inside, it’s all rustic charm and warmth—flickering lanterns on each table, cozy booths, and a crackling fire in the corner. Tony leads you to a booth by the window, where the view of the snowy slopes and skiers zipping by makes for a perfect scene.

He orders a mulled cider for you and a whiskey for himself. “To surviving the bunny hill,” he says, raising his glass.

“Almost,” you correct, clinking your mug against his with a grin. “But don’t get used to it. I’ll be an expert by tomorrow.”

Tony laughs, leaning back and draping his arm around your shoulders. “Alright, but if you go pro, I expect a cut of your sponsorship deals.”

“Deal,” you say, laughing as you take a sip of your warm cider. You feel a hand on your belly, and you look up to find Tony looking down at your stomach with a soft, content expression.

“Peanut had quite the day, huh?” he murmurs, tracing a finger in slow circles. “First ski lesson with Mom and Dad. It’s only a matter of time before we’ve got a little snowboarder or skier running around.” He looks up at you, eyes twinkling. “Imagine, a little Stark racing down the slopes.”

You snuggle closer, your heart swelling as you picture it. “Sounds perfect.”

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and for a while, you both sit in comfortable silence, soaking up the warmth of the fire, the view, and each other. It’s simple, domestic, and so achingly perfect that it feels like a dream.

After a while, Tony’s hand finds yours under the table. “Alright,” he says, giving you a mischievous grin. “Ready for more of the bunny hill tomorrow?”

“Bring it on,” you say, grinning back. “But fair warning—I’m graduating to the medium bunny hill by the afternoon.”

He chuckles, tightening his hold on your hand. "That’s my girl."

As Tony slips away to pay the bill, you settle back in the booth, taking a slow sip of your cider and watching the snow gently fall outside. You’re lost in thought, already picturing yourself attempting to conquer the “medium” bunny hill tomorrow, when a figure suddenly slides into Tony’s seat across from you.

“Ciao, bella,” says a man with a thick Italian accent and an easy, confident smile. He’s tall, with dark hair peeking out from under his knit beanie and an instructor’s badge hanging around his neck that reads Marco. “I couldn’t help but notice you on the kids' slope earlier,” he continues, his gaze lingering a little too long for comfort. “You looked…how do you say…deliziosa on those skis.”

For a second, you’re too surprised to respond, but then you let out a small, amused laugh. “Oh, uh, thank you?”

He leans in, clearly misreading your laugh. “Not many adults are brave enough to take on the bunny hill. It’s very… endearing.” He gives you a grin that, on anyone else, might be charming, but on him is just a bit too self-assured. “I’d be happy to give you a private lesson sometime,” he says, his voice dropping suggestively. “Show you the ropes… maybe even move you up to a real slope, sì?”

“Oh,” you say, putting down your mug and giving him a polite smile. “That’s very nice of you, Marco, but I actually have an instructor. He’s, uh, very attentive.”

Marco raises an eyebrow, glancing around. “Ah, well, he can’t be that attentive if he left you alone. Such a bella donna should never be alone, sì?” He leans back, his gaze sweeping over you appreciatively. “Besides, you deserve someone who can give you all the… attention you need.”

From across the room, Tony turns around from the bar and sees you—laughing, apparently chatting with some random guy who’s leaning way too far into your personal space. Tony’s jaw tightens as he watches, his eyes narrowing. He knows that look; he’s given it a few times himself. And from the way this Marco guy is practically draping himself across the table, it’s clear he thinks he’s got a chance with you.

“Oh, no,” Tony mutters under his breath. “Not happening, pal.”

You’re still trying to deflect Marco’s attention politely when you hear a familiar voice behind you.

“Am I interrupting?” Tony asks, his tone pleasant but with a sharp edge that makes you almost burst out laughing.

Marco straightens up, his brows knitting as he looks Tony up and down. “Oh, scusa, amico,” he says, his smile not quite as confident now. “I didn’t realize she was with someone.”

Tony gives a tight-lipped smile, sliding smoothly back into his seat and draping his arm around you, fingers brushing casually over your shoulder. “She is,” he says pointedly, turning his head to plant a possessive kiss on your cheek, clearly for Marco’s benefit. “I’m Tony. And you are…?”

“Marco,” the man says, trying to maintain his cool as he extends a hand, which Tony promptly ignores.

“Right,” Tony says, looking unimpressed. He raises an eyebrow, giving Marco a once-over. “So, Marco, were you just, what… offering private lessons to my wife?” He emphasizes the word, his voice dripping with amusement and a hint of a threat.

You see Marco’s eyes widen just slightly as he glances at your hand. Of course, Tony had bought you gloves that are so bulky your wedding ring is completely hidden, which must be why Marco hadn’t noticed. He quickly recovers, chuckling and putting his hands up defensively. “Ah, mi dispiace, I did not realize! The snow clothes, you know, they hide… certain things.”

“Sure, sure,” Tony says, giving him a smile that’s as cold as the snow outside. “Easy mistake to make.” He pats his own chest as if in apology. “She’s wearing the ski instructor-approved disguise. Real easy to miss the whole married and pregnant thing, isn’t it?”

Marco’s face turns bright red as he stumbles over his words, looking everywhere but at you. “Ah, yes, well, I should… I should be going. Enjoy your stay, signora. Signore,” he says hastily before practically running off toward the other side of the bar.

As soon as he’s out of earshot, you turn to Tony with an amused smile, crossing your arms. “Was that really necessary?”

Tony huffs, his arm still firmly around you as he shakes his head. “Necessary? That guy was two seconds away from trying to hand-feed you pasta.”

You burst out laughing, nudging him playfully. “You know, if you’d just waited a minute, he probably would’ve figured it out on his own.”

Tony leans in close, grumbling theatrically. “Absolutely not. I have to nip these things in the bud. And, for the record, I don’t appreciate other guys throwing themselves at you while I’m paying for our cozy little cider date.”

“Oh, so you’re the only one who can throw himself at me?” you tease, arching an eyebrow as you take a sip of your cider.

“Damn right,” Tony says, pulling you even closer, his eyes sparkling with humor. “That guy clearly didn’t realize he was dealing with the Tony Stark.”

You roll your eyes, but your grin betrays you. “Well, Mr. Stark, thank you for rescuing me from the terrible fate of ski instructor flirtations.”

Tony smirks, raising his glass. “Anytime, Mrs. Stark. Anytime.” He takes a sip, eyes glinting with satisfaction as he watches Marco retreat out of sight.

Then he turns to you, looking perfectly serious. “Next time, maybe you should wear a sign or something. Like, ‘Taken. Baby on Board. Do Not Flirt.’”

You snort, shaking your head. “Oh yeah? What’s it going to say on the back, ‘Back off, Tony Stark’s property’?”

“Exactly,” he says with a wink, obviously pleased with himself. He settles back into his seat, one hand firmly planted on your belly as if staking his claim all over again. "Guess I’ll just have to keep my eye on you from now on. Can’t have any more Italian Casanovas getting the wrong idea.”

You rest your head on his shoulder, smiling as he holds you close, his hand tracing idle circles over your belly. “Guess that’s what I get for marrying a billionaire superhero,” you say, snuggling up to him with a sigh.

“Lucky for you, I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

And for the rest of the afternoon, with Tony’s arm around you and his gaze occasionally sweeping the bar for any would-be admirers, you realize that even with all the teasing and banter, you wouldn’t want it any other way.

After lunch, Tony insists on checking out the chalet’s indoor pool, especially since you’ve both been bundled up in heavy ski gear all day. He’s unusually excited, already talking about the “therapeutic properties” of a warm dip as he escorts you down the hall, arm draped protectively over your shoulder.

Of course, you know that Tony’s idea of “relaxing by the pool” involves detailed pre-planning. He spent a full five minutes earlier confirming with the staff that the water temperature is exactly within safe limits for pregnant women. You couldn’t help but laugh as he ran through a list of questions so long it could have filled a health inspector’s checklist.

Now, as you enter the pool area, you can’t help but smile at the ambiance. It’s luxurious yet cozy, with ambient lights reflecting off the water and soft classical music playing overhead. Families and couples splash around, and there’s a wall of glass that opens to the breathtaking view of the Alps, snowy peaks standing tall against the sky.

Tony’s hand is on your back as he guides you to the pool’s edge. “Alright, love, just take it slow,” he murmurs, adjusting his position to help you ease into the water.

You roll your eyes, smiling as you step in. “You know, I think I remember how pools work.”

“True, true,” he says, hands still hovering protectively, “but now it’s a whole different ball game. You’ve got precious cargo.” His eyes gleam as he says it, and you can’t help but feel a rush of warmth at the way he looks at you.

Once you’re in, he joins you, holding you close in the waist-deep water. The pool isn’t crowded, but it’s busy enough, with families and couples wading nearby. None of it seems to faze Tony, though. His focus is squarely on you—and, of course, your small but growing bump.

As you float in the water, Tony’s hands find your waist, and then, naturally, his fingers drift to rest gently on your stomach. He’s been in awe of this small swell since it first showed up, and now, he’s practically glued to it. You glance around, feeling a little self-conscious with the other people around, but Tony catches the look and just smirks.

“Oh no,” he teases, voice low. “Don’t you dare get shy on me now.” He presses a gentle kiss to your temple, his hand still resting warmly over your belly. “I want the whole world to know I’m crazy about you and our little peanut.”

“Tony,” you say, laughing softly. “You do realize you don’t have to shout it to every stranger we meet, right?”

“Why not?” he quips, beaming. “I’m proud. They should know. Besides…” He pauses, glancing down with that soft, protective look again, “It’s not every day you have this much to celebrate.”

He leans down, pressing his cheek gently to your stomach, and for a moment you’re sure the people nearby must be watching, but he’s completely unfazed. In fact, he looks content, brushing a thumb over the slight curve and murmuring, “You know, kiddo, you’re going to be loved so much. By me, by your mom here. You’ve got it made.”

You smile, running your fingers through his damp hair as he whispers to the baby. “I think you might be getting a little too into the dad role already,” you say, trying to keep the laugh out of your voice.

“Is that a complaint?” He lifts his head, grinning at you.

You shake your head, smiling as he draws you close, his arms wrapped protectively around you in the water. “Not at all. I love it.”

“Good,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a soft, affectionate tone. “Because you’re both stuck with me.”

After a while of floating and talking about the future—debating possible names, dreaming of first steps, first words, and first Stark-engineered tricycles—you drift closer to the edge of the pool, resting against it with Tony still close. Every so often, his fingers return to your belly as if by instinct, rubbing small circles or tracing a lazy line from side to side. He’s got this way of being tender without even thinking about it.

A mother with two young children paddles nearby, and her eyes linger for a second as she takes in the two of you. She gives you a knowing smile, and you smile back, feeling Tony’s hand on your bump.

As the family moves past, Tony gives you a conspiratorial grin. “You know, you could always give them a heads-up. Let them know there’s another future superhero in the making right here.”

You laugh, poking him lightly in the chest. “They already got the message, I think. You weren’t exactly subtle.”

He chuckles, letting his arm settle around your shoulders. “What can I say? I’m enthusiastic.” Then he leans down, placing another soft kiss on your cheek, his breath warm against your skin. “This might just be the best thing I’ve ever done.”

Your heart swells as he looks at you, his gaze full of love and devotion. And with his arms around you, the warmth of the water, and the snowy mountains in view, you feel like you’re floating in the perfect moment, one that you’ll carry with you long after you’ve left the chalet.

“I love you,” he murmurs, voice so soft it feels like a secret just for you.

The morning after your cozy pool time, you wake up with a scratchy throat and a stuffy nose, which you’re pretty sure wasn’t there when you went to bed. You groan softly, reaching for the tissue box on the bedside table, and give a tiny sneeze.

Of course, that little sneeze sets off Tony’s alarm bells like you’ve just pulled a fire alarm.

He’s instantly at your side, his hand on your forehead to check for a fever, his brow furrowed in deep concern. “Are you feeling okay? You don’t look okay,” he says, his voice going from calm to anxious in a heartbeat.

You try to wave him off, laughing a little. “It’s just a cold, Tony. I’m fine, really.”

But he’s already in full-on crisis mode.

“Oh no, this is not ‘just a cold.’ You need to lie down. Rest. Hydrate. Whatever it takes to get you feeling better, I’m on it.” Before you can protest, he’s pulling back the covers and gently tucking you back into bed like you’re made of glass.

“Tony,” you say, amused as he pulls a blanket over you, “I can still move. It’s just a cold.”

“Exactly,” he says, leaning down and giving you a soft, serious look. “That means it’s a virus. Which means I have to take all necessary precautions. And you”—he points a finger at you with all the authority of a doctor—"are to stay right here. On bedrest. Doctor’s orders.”

You raise an eyebrow, trying not to laugh at how serious he looks. “Doctor’s orders? You’re not a doctor.”

“Yet.” He winks, then pulls out his phone, typing furiously. “But Dr. Chen is.”

Your eyes widen as you watch him text your OB/GYN in the U.S. “Are you really calling Dr. Chen? Just because of a little sniffle?”

He shrugs, tapping the screen. “Yes. Because I want to be sure I’m doing everything to help you and our little peanut. That includes expert backup, if necessary.”

You can’t help but smile as he waits, phone in hand, glancing up every so often to check on you as though you might disintegrate if he looks away. Then, as if on cue, his phone pings, and he holds it up victoriously.

“She’s on board,” he says with a little too much triumph, showing you a text that reads, If Y/N is comfortable, plenty of rest, fluids, and warmth should help. Call if needed. He holds his phone with a flourish. “See? Expert-confirmed bedrest.”

You laugh and snuggle further under the covers, feeling the warmth of his concern more than anything else. “Alright, alright. Bedrest it is. But only because Dr. Chen said so.”

He nods, clearly pleased with himself, then presses a quick kiss to your forehead, mumbling, “Good call, Doc.” Then he’s off, already muttering to himself about getting you more pillows, a humidifier, and maybe a few dozen blankets.

As you settle in, you watch him scurry around the suite, gathering all your essentials as if you’re stranded on a desert island. He fluffs the pillows, fusses over the blanket arrangement, and keeps glancing back at you every few minutes, as if double-checking you’re still there.

“Alright,” he says, stepping back and eyeing his work critically. “Now, can I get you anything else? How about a hot drink?”

“Hot chocolate would be amazing,” you say, chuckling at how over-the-top he’s being.

“Hot chocolate, coming right up,” he says, snapping his fingers and practically running out of the room.

He returns a few minutes later with a mug of steaming hot chocolate topped with whipped cream and chocolate shavings (he’d never go for anything less than five-star quality). He’s practically bouncing as he sets it down on your bedside table, arranging it like it’s a Michelin-star dessert.

You take a sip, savoring the warmth and sweetness. “Mmm. This is perfect, Tony. Thank you.”

He visibly relaxes as you sip, then settles into the chair beside the bed, clearly not planning to leave your side anytime soon. “So, here’s the plan,” he says, as if he’s unveiling a major Stark Industries project. “You’ll stay here, rest, drink all the hot chocolate you want, and I’ll make sure you don’t have to lift a finger.”

“I can’t imagine it’s that serious, Tony,” you say, trying to reassure him. “It’s probably just from being in the cold for so long yesterday.”

But he’s already waving off your words, leaning forward with an intense look of determination. “Listen, we’ve got less than five months before the baby arrives. That means I need you healthy and happy and not dealing with any unnecessary stress, discomfort, or…viruses. So if that means pampering you with hot chocolate and movies and blankets all day, so be it.”

You laugh softly, reaching for his hand. “Alright, fine, Mr. Stark. I’ll indulge you.”

“Good,” he says, pressing a kiss to your hand, his eyes warm with love and gratitude. “Because it’s really me who’s indulging. Now, I’ll get the laptop so we can watch some of those cheesy holiday movies you like.”

“Oh, so you’re finally admitting you secretly love them too?” you tease, already knowing the answer.

He sighs, rolling his eyes playfully. “Maybe just a little,” he concedes with a smirk. “But only if we can start with the ones where the couple fights, then has a dramatic confession at the end.”

“Deal,” you laugh, shaking your head as he pulls out the laptop, settling it onto the bed.

For the next few hours, you lose yourselves in movie after movie, his arm around you, the cozy warmth of the blankets surrounding you both. Tony doesn’t move an inch unless it’s to refill your hot chocolate, adjust your pillows, or bring you more tissues.

Every so often, he glances over, brushing his fingers over your hair or pressing a hand to your belly, murmuring things like, “How’s the little one doing?” or “Don’t worry, we’ve got you both covered.”

Eventually, as the snow falls softly outside and Tony nestles closer, your eyes start to drift shut. He notices, pulling the blanket a little higher over you, his hand resting protectively over your belly.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, his voice soft. And as you fall asleep, you feel the steady warmth of his hand, his presence wrapped around you like a shield, reminding you that, no matter what, you’re in the best hands in the world.

After a few days of rest, hot chocolate, and constant pampering from Tony, you feel perfectly fine again—your cold a distant memory. It’s a relief to be able to get up, stretch, and take in the mountain views without feeling Tony’s eagle eyes watching your every move like you’re about to faint at any second. But, just as you’re settling back into enjoying the last of your time at the chalet, the final day of your trip arrives, and it’s time to pack up.

The goodbye comes too soon for your liking. As Tony arranges for your luggage to be sent down, you stand by the window, watching the snow-covered peaks as if they’re already miles away instead of just outside the glass. There’s something magical about this place, and leaving it just makes your heart sink a little—pregnancy hormones only making the ache stronger.

Tony notices the way you linger by the window, quiet and a little sad, and he comes up behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder and wrapping his arms around you. “Ready to go, love?”

You swallow, trying to keep the sudden lump in your throat from turning into tears. “Yeah,” you say softly. “I just… I really loved it here. It feels like we’re leaving this perfect little world behind.”

He pulls you closer, his voice gentle as he murmurs, “I know. It’s hard to say goodbye.” He kisses the side of your head and gives your belly a soft pat, as if trying to comfort both you and the baby. “But don’t worry. I promise you, this isn’t the last time we’ll be here.”

You manage a small smile, leaning into him. “Really?”

“Absolutely,” he says, squeezing you a little tighter. “I’ll bring you and our little peanut back here once a year, at least. A little annual tradition, just for us.”

The promise settles warmly over you, softening the sadness, though the idea of leaving still tugs at your heart. “I think I’d really like that,” you whisper.

On the plane, Tony makes sure you’re settled into the comfiest seat, blankets piled up and pillows arranged just right. He brings you a fresh cup of tea and sits beside you, holding your hand as the jet takes off, lifting you away from the snowy Alps.

The closer you get to New York, the more your emotions start to bubble up. You try to hide it, focusing on the book in your lap and staring out the window at the clouds. But Tony’s eyes are on you, reading every little flicker of your expression like he always does. Finally, he slips his fingers under your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Talk to me.”

You let out a small, shaky laugh. “I don’t know�� it just feels silly. It’s just a vacation, right? But… it’s like I’m leaving behind this dream.” Your hand drifts down to your belly, and you feel a wave of warmth spread through you at the thought of the baby growing there. “Everything just felt so perfect there. I feel… I don’t know… safe, in a way I haven’t before.”

He studies your face, his expression softening. “That’s not silly at all. It’s exactly how you should feel.” He leans in, resting his forehead against yours. “And listen—I know I don’t have to tell you this, but you’re safe wherever we are. Doesn’t matter if it’s the Alps, the tower, or the middle of nowhere. I’ve got you, and I’ve got our little one. We’re a team, remember?”

A small smile forms on your lips, and you blink back the tears that were threatening to spill. “Yeah. You’re right.”

He takes your hand, pressing it to his lips before placing it over his heart. “Besides, next year, you’ll get to see the Alps through a whole new perspective—with a mini-Stark tagging along. Who knows what kind of adventures we’ll have then?”

You laugh softly, imagining a future where you’re bundled up with a little one in tow, teaching them to ski down the bunny hills and showing them the same stunning views. “Okay, that does sound pretty amazing.”

“Exactly.” He smiles, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “We’ll have so many new memories, you’ll forget you were ever sad to leave.”

You settle back into your seat, comforted, and squeeze his hand. “You know, I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re pretty good at this whole husband thing.”

He winks, leaning in for a quick kiss. “Only the best for you, Mrs. Stark.”

As the jet soars through the clouds, he keeps a warm hand on your belly, whispering a few playful promises to the baby about future trips and grand adventures. He says something about building a personal ski lift one day so you won’t ever have to brave the bunny slopes again if you don’t want to.

You laugh, feeling grateful for him, for this life you’re building, and for the adventures you’ve yet to share together. And as you close your eyes, leaning against his shoulder, you let the promise of future memories fill you with peace, knowing that with Tony by your side, you’ll always feel at home—no matter where you are.

in love with this story like really <3

[nightwingbb]

This scene is from an old DamiJon WIP that I don't think I'll ever finish (Never say never, but I lost my outline and simply do not remember what the plan was for this lmaoo), but I think about it often, so sharing with all you on Tumblr so it doesn't disappear in my Google Docs for all of eternity.

It had been amusing, back then, that Damian didn’t understand the appeal of a wedding. Jon had laughed as Damian complained, then brushed the whole thing off with a Man, I feel bad for your future husband.

“And I for your future wife,” Damian had replied. “The poor woman will have married an idiot.”

The reception had been in full swing at the time, with first-generation Titans swarming the dance floor, Dick and Kory at the floor’s center with grins that stretched as wide as their faces would allow. There was a crowd by the bar, as well, where Jon’s parents were sipping at champagne and talking with a few Justice Leaguers. Bruce and Selina were among that crowd, Bruce nodding absently as he looked over at Dick and Kory, a proud smile pulling at his lips.

Damian and Jon had settled themselves at a vacated dinner table, both too young to drink, and Damian too Damian to join the crowd on the dance floor. They were talking as best they could over the music, bickering the way they always had and scrolling listlessly at their phones.

Jon hesitated, biting at his lip. He had yet to come out to anyone. The idea was daunting and still relatively new— he had only figured out that he needed to come out a month or two prior, and the idea of telling Damian was particularly intimidating. 

It wasn’t that Jon thought he would react badly. Damian had come out back when he was eighteen. Jon had been sixteen and teasing Damian for not having a girlfriend because, again, sixteen, and Damian had simply raised an eyebrow and said, “I’m gay.” 

Damian had been unperturbed— almost flippant— when he had come out. He was almost guaranteed to be just as unbothered by Jon coming out. 

But Damian was also the one who had single handedly sparked Jon’s sudden sexuality crisis. 

Damian, who was arrogant and rude and hot-headed, but one of the most compassionate people that Jon had ever met, with stupid— stunning— green eyes, and full lips that Jon would give anything to—

Jon took a stuttering breath, peering at Damian from across the table. He needed to forget about his stupid crush. Damian was still his best friend, and his best friend had just given him a perfect opportunity to come out to him.

“Maybe,” Jon said tentatively, “I won’t have a future wife.” He took another breath. He’d dipped a toe in. Might as well take the plunge. “Maybe I’ll have a future husband, too.”

At that, Damian whipped his head up from his phone. He blinked at Jon. “You’re—?”

“Bi,” Jon interjected. The word felt weird on his tongue. He swallowed, then said, “I’m not gay. I still like girls, but guys are… good…” 

Guys are good. Rao help him.

Damian blinked again. “Okay,” he said, then turned back to his phone, and that was that.

[weirdmultishipper]

Unpopular opinion(?): Deruth Henituse

Let's all face it: Deuth wasn't a bad father to Og!Cale. He was millions of times better than a lot of fictional fathers and I wholeheartedly agree with that. ദ്ദി（• ˕ •マ.ᐟ

Unpopular opinion: That's doesn't mean I have to like him. (¬⤙¬ )

And I'm all for different opinions. People can view one thing in various different ways, and that's perfectly understandable! I don't like Deruth and that's mine.

Deruth was-no, is a coward. The lovely author of the novel has made it pretty clear. And I don't hate him for it. Being a coward is not a sin, but neglecting your son is.

Like b*tch, most fanfictions make you a better father than you are just because your wife was dead like WTF?!?! Your son's mom was dead too REMEMBER THAT?!?! 눈_눈

And I'm not against Cale and Deruth having a good relationship or those fanfics that basically erase Deruth's wrongdoing because to be honest, I enjoy them too. It's much easier to pretend Deruth was a good father and that our lovely little Og!Cale had a wonderful life than look at canon. o(TヘTo)

Let's recap: Deruth was a decent father until Jour died. Then he went into a deep depression of which Cale tried his bestest to pull his father out of. We know Cale basically ignored his own sorrow just to take care of his father AND the count duties his father was ignoring at the same time. While there is nothing wrong with grieving as losing Jour was very hard for Deruth, couldn't he have at least put SOME effort into assigning someone efficient to handle his duties so 7-year-old Cale didn't have to?

While on the topic of grieving, Deruth not only failed his duties as a count but as a father. I personally have no experience with this, but I had a friend with a dead mother. Even though her father must've been sad too, he put in effort to take care of her and her sister, send them to school, make money, manage the household and everything. Fathers and mothers push aside their sorrow every day to do the bast they can for their children. Deruth, on the other hand, was too much of a fool to do any of that.

Deruth wasn't the only one who lost Jour, after all. Cale lost his mother. The one who gave birth to him, raised him, hugged him, told her all his secrets, whom did the same in return, and was the only other person with the same bright and beautiful hair that he had.

And he could've turned around after a few weeks and fixed everything up and let both him and Cale heal with each other. But NOOOO~ He had to leave his only cute, lovely, wonderful, but most of all GRIEVING son all alone in a cold and lonely mansion for vacation. Like he could've at least taken him along so they could grieve together? But NOOOO~ Cale looks too much like his dead wife and that's so iMpOsSiBle~ ～(　TロT)σ

But he fixed that? How? By marrying the woman on the spot! Bringing in a new countess when no one but him got over the old one and turning up all the dark shades of sorrow into wedding curtains before Cale even knew what was happening! (°ロ°)

But I also know he had good intentions. Being the count and all, he probably knew marrying Violan would mean she could help her with the household. Maybe he also thought that Cale would immediately think of her as his mother.

Now, him falling in love wasn't a sin and Violan is an amazing woman😍, but I think he undermined his son's sorrow just because he found a reason to move on from Jour.😔

BTW, Violan, Basen, and Lily are amazing. They're one of my most fave fictional families and no one can tell me otherwise. Go them! q(≧▽≦q)

And as the years go by, our smart Cale realizes that the vassals and the collateral family are coming after Violan and Basen and decided to throw away his life and soul all for his father's picturesque perfect family; just so that coward can be happy.

And then KRS!Cale comes along (also love him, go my baby make fires 🔥 and steal MONAH!!! 🫰💰💵) and suddenly, Deruth thinks Cale is all "fixed" and "not broken" so he can finally reach out to his son, only it's NOT HIS SON ANYMORE!!! Like, he had over 10 years even after marrying Violan to reach out to him but ?????

But since there are no implications of him raising a hand against Cale, I don't hate him and wish for his death like another certain protagonist's father (I'm looking at you, Kim Dokja's 'father'), but that doesn't mean I can just forgive and forget all of this, okay?

Yes, he let Cale waste his life away because he couldn't even protect the new family member that he brought into the family HIMSELF as the count, so Cale had to do it himself. And from what I can infer, when the Choi Han incident happened in TBoaH, he didn't even show up or visit him even though we know Cale would fight the damn gods if it were the other way around. He did provide Cale with the best treatment and kept an eye on him, but couldn't bear to face him.

So in conclusion: I don't really hate Deruth, but please for the love of peace, family, and chaos DON'T convince me to like him one bit.

[meidui]

fics about tony's aging

rough enough for love by @silkspectred

The first time they had sex was right after their first kiss. Steve dropped to his knees and then Tony reciprocated after making Steve lie down on the bed. The second time it was Steve that initiated it, slow handjobs under the hot spray of the shower, and Tony looked surprised by it. Like it was weird that Steve wanted it. Wanted him.

No Better Version of Me by talesofsuspense

When Tony announces his retirement publicly, he’s not ashamed to admit he cries.

It Will Be This, Always by @pineapplebread

Steve has started to notice recently that Tony shies away from his reflection, and finds him cataloging and criticizing his scars and greying hair. Steve finds it unacceptable that Tony sees himself as anything but beautiful and perfect.

Sixty by @sibmakesart

Tony's sixtieth birthday is coming.

will you still want me (when i'm nothing new) by meidui

It's the night of their wedding rehearsal dinner and Tony doesn't love his aging. Steve does.

Mitigation of the Mildly Miserable by @deervsheadlights

Tony wakes up to the realization that not only is he getting old, but somewhere along the way, he has also put on a noteworthy amount of chub.

Iron Man has a pouch. Wow.

A Love's Work by PGHumfort

“You’re too patient with me.” Tony replied, quietly resigned.

There had been a difficult time in Tony’s 60s, after some tabloid had published a series of pictures, gathered over the course of a few months, and titled it ’15 times Tony Stark looked like his husband’s dad’. Tony had sunken into a feverish spiral, searching for a ‘cure’ for aging while simultaneously trying to convince Steve to divorce him, because he was only going to get older.

It had taken time and long nights of talking and lovemaking to bring his husband back into the moment with him. Somehow, Tony had forgotten that Steve meant the ‘until death do us part’ portion of their vows.

four footprints (side by side) by @ladymacbethsarmy

Tony laughs mirthlessly, “I always thought I’d die as Iron Man,” he says, and it’s nothing Steve doesn’t know because Tony never held back, never hesitated back then. His eyes always said huh, maybe next time. “I didn’t think I’d make it to my sixties. And now I’m sixty two and I have no idea what awaits me.”

“A very long vacation?” Steve offers weakly, and is surprised when Tony laughs.

Silver Fox by @arukou-arukou

Howard's motto was "Stark men are made of iron." Tony's is "Never let 'em see you bleed."

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Hey darling

Sooooooo I just saw your post about writing for larissa x Melissa x reader and wanted to request one. Maybe reader is sat reading a ✨️spicy✨️ book and gets really needy from it so begs larissa and Melissa to make everything in the book come true

🦄

Yessss…! Hey 🦄 anon!! Thank you so much for the request! I haven’t written for Melissa xLarissa xReader so this is exciting!! I love it 🥰 Hope you Enjoy ♥️♥️

Spicy Fantasies ~Larissa Weems xMelissa Schemmenti xFem Reader

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, smut, fluff, polyamorous, threesome, doggystyle fucking, g!p, shapeshifted d!ck, implied humiliation kink, more implied future smut, etc.

Enjoy (;

Your thighs clench together as you read the pages of you book with anticipation… Your eyes wandered shamelessly up and down each page, taking in the explicit words, lines, and sentences. You sat curled up in one of Larissa’s reading chairs in her office, your breath bated and your mouth dry…

It was Friday evening, which meant Melissa would be coming home from her job in Philly. You and Larissa waited eagerly in the blondes office, the tall principal working away at her job, while you read your spicy book.

~~~

But I was also lonely and heartbroken and so fucking wet it was dripping down my thighs.

Then I let her fuck me. Because she was right: I do like it, I do always want it. And as she slammed into me over and over again, I told her to tell me the fantasy, this life she was offering me. And she did, goddamn her, and it all sounded so perfect coming from her lying businesswoman’s mouth. She told me about the lazy afternoons wed spend together, the expensive restaurants she'd take me to, the orgasms she'd give me on top of smooth Egyptian cotton sheets. She told me about the flowers and jewelry and vacations in Bora Bora and expensive cars and everything else that would fill up our illicit life together, all while I ground myself on her plastic cock, ground myself toward the best orgasm Id had since college. She was cursing by this point, folding me over the bench and driving into me from behind while she pressed my face against the leather and I felt the cold metal of her wedding ring against my hip. It was degrading and terrible and I came almost immediately.

And then I came again.

~~~

“Y/N…? Y/N…?!”

Melissa’s voice grew louder and more clear as she pulled you back out of your trance.

“Hi sorry what?” You stuttered, putting your book down and trying to cover the blush on your face.

Melissa wore a devilish smirk as her gaze met yours. You looked around and found Larissa standing up, looking at her two wives, holding her office bag, and ready to go home.

“Watcha readin’?” Mel cooed.

“Nothing much…” you mumbled, tucking the book away.

But before you could, the redhead lunged forward and grabbed the book from your hands. You squeaked in resistance, but to no avail. Melissa flipped through the pages, until she found your bookmark. Her eyes widened as she read the passage that you had just read.

“Naughty girl…” the redhead chuckled under her breath, waltzing over to the blonde and dramatically showing her that very same passage.

You slunk down in your chair in embarrassment as you cheeks went fire engine red. Larissa’s eyes lit up and darkened on very she’d finished reading the passage.

The tall principal then put down her bags and whispered something to the other teacher. They both hummed and agreed in unison. Mel then went to the door, locking it shut. You looked at your wives one after the other in puzzlement.

“Change of plans…” Melissa hummed.

Larissa came over to you, placing an arm on each side of your chair, effectively blocking you in.

“How wet are you from reading that, Darling…?” She seductively cooed.

You gulped and your whole face went red at her directiveness.

“I… ummm… dripping…” you choked out a whisper.

“Hmmmm…” Larissa hummed in delight, “Dripping…” she repeated in satisfaction.

Melissa came up behind you and the chair, teasing your neck and shoulders with her mouth and fingers.

“What do you want, Baby…? Use your words…” she tauntingly cooed, continuing to tease you.

You whimpered incoherently.

“I bet she wants to be ruined. Is that what you want, Darling…? Do you want us to show you a proper, lavish time, pamper you, only to absolutely ravish you later on…?” The blonde huskily cooed.

“I… yes” you breathed out, your eyes wide and your face red.

The red head chuckled at your response, and she began leaving distinct and painfully-pleasurable marks. The tall principal quirked her head at you, her eyes ablaze with a dark, dominating lust.

“Now now… Mistress wants to hear you.” Larissa wickedly chuckled, “Beg, sweet girl. Use your words and tell us exactly what you want…”

You gulped and nodded.

“R-right, sorry Mistress… Want you to fuck me… P-properly fuck me… Tell me how you’d take me out to dinner, show me off as yours to everyone… How you’d take me to an exp-pensive hotel room afterward and… and…” you whimpered.

“And…?” Melissa purred, grabbing your shoulders, and urging you to continue.

They were both getting off on this…

And that only made you wetter.

“And I… you’d tell me how you’d spoil me… H-how you’d be my sugar mistress… Degrading me… Slamming into me… Holding me down while I squirm, while I beg for you to go h-harder—” you breathily stammered.

Both women hummed in satisfaction at your words. Melissa then circled your chair, coming up next to Larissa, both of them now staring you down intently. They exchanged looks once more and nodded, before looking back at you. The blonde then stood up, releasing you from your confinement.

“Strip. Then go lean on the desk, tits first.” Larissa demanded.

You gulped and nodded, squirreling upwards and quickly undressing. Your wives also began undressing, although they halted once they reached their undergarments. Once you were fully naked, you scurried to Larissa’s desk, leaning against it as you had been told to you. Melissa came around the desk where your head was facing her, and Larissa came up behind you, groping your ass.

You whimpered at her sudden and harsh touch. Larissa then removed her knickers, and you gasped and squirmed when you felt her shapeshifting dick against your bare ass.

“Oh Darling, we are going to make all your little fantasies come true…” Larissa purred lustfully.

~~~

Melissa Schemmenti Masterlist

Larissa Weems Masterlist

[adore-laur]

RENDEZVOUS

— a steamy flashback from the dadrry universe about harry as your fiancé 💍

——

After another shot of vodka went down the hatch, you still didn't qualify yourself as drunk. Tipsy was the more accurate feeling since every shot you had taken in the last ten minutes hadn't quite affected your bloodstream yet. The fifth one was being poured already. Or maybe the sixth. It didn't really matter since letting loose was what bachelorette parties were made for.

The event was being held in a small theater in downtown San Francisco, occupied by you and your friends, to celebrate the last few weeks before you officially became a married woman. A drag show was the extravaganza for the evening, and it was currently the intermission, so everyone was out of their seats drinking and catching up with each other.

You and Harry had needed a getaway amid the final phase of wedding planning. The both of you were staying at the Ritz-Carlton for the weekend, and it was nice to take a breather from the stress of the big day coming up. In the weeks leading up to the mini vacation, you had decided it would be perfect to have your bachelorette party in the scenic city. Most of your friends lived in surrounding areas, so you sent the invites out and hoped everything worked out. It clearly did because everyone was buzzed and having the time of their lives. 

Your throat hurt from loudly cheering on the drag queens who had just performed. The tiara on your head with a tiny veil attached was slipping off, and the bride-to-be sash across your body was getting wrinkled, but you couldn't care less. Happiness and love exuded from your friends who had come to carouse with you.

Harry had proposed a little over a year ago after he cooked a fancy New Year's Eve dinner and led you to the backyard at midnight to get down on one knee, popping the question with shaky hands and watery eyes. You were incredibly thankful it hadn't been a grand display in public. It had been just you and him at home under the string lights, with butterflies breaking loose in your stomach.

In planning the wedding, you had vowed to him that you wouldn't be a bridezilla. You'd allow him to have equal insight and let him completely take the reins regarding the food that will be served since it's his forte. Overall, the process hadn't been too draining. You worked well as a team, and he was always open to suggestions and last-minute changes of plans. The final touches would be put together once you came home from the trip. Then, it would finally be time to marry him.

"Did you leave Harry alone in the hotel room?" asked your friend, pulling you from your thoughts.

"Yeah, but I'm sure he'll find something to do," you said. "He can never sit still for too long."

She carefully fixed your tiara. "When's his bachelor party?"

"Next weekend. He's having it at the restaurant he works at."

"Not at the strip club?" she teased, wiggling her eyebrows.

You laughed. "He's mature enough to understand that I find it suspicious when guys go there for their bachelor party. Some call it their last night of freedom. How weird is that?"

You had nothing against strippers, but you thought it was reasonable that you'd rather have Harry spend his night somewhere else to celebrate his, you know, commitment to you.

"You're marrying such a gentleman. It makes me jealous," she said with a playful nudge. She wasn't wrong, so you just shrugged smugly and sipped your fruity cocktail.

Gasps and excited clapping suddenly stole your attention. You furrowed your eyebrows and looked at the stage, watching the red velvet curtains draw back once again. Shuffling to your table, you smoothed down the back of your dress and sat.

The lights dimmed as people who worked at the venue began rolling a black piano onto the stage. You wondered what it would be used for since the drag queens earlier had strictly danced and lip-synced to music booming from the speakers. Other instruments were also being brought out—guitars, drums, and even a saxophone.

Growing more confused by the second, you turned around and stared at your friends around the room to see if they knew what was happening. All you received were mischievous smiles.

Before you could ask questions, you were abruptly pulled out of your seat and led to the front of the stage as people situated themselves by their respective instruments. You leaned into your friend and asked, "What's going on? This doesn't look like a drag show is about to happen."

She smirked and shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. Let's find out."

You didn't reply because the band started playing jazzy music as the stage lights turned on, revealing quite a modern setup for what you knew was definitely not a drag performance. A spotlight shone, and it began to move toward the left wings, where a silhouette of someone was waiting.

"Please give a warm welcome to Harry Styles!" introduced the saxophonist.

You just about choked on your Mai Tai.

Your vision finally focused on Harry as he strutted out wearing yellow trousers and a button-up under a suit jacket. A tiny microphone was clipped to his collar, and you couldn't even begin to guess what he had planned tonight. He gave you no inclination that he'd be here. No subtle hints had been dropped in conversations with him, and no sneaky clues had been given by your friends. It was actually shocking, considering he was usually awful at keeping secrets.

Everyone cheered for him; whistles and encouraging hollers were thrown his way as he held his arms out and walked toward center stage. You were too taken aback to join in as you watched him cut the band off with a gesture before facing the room with his hands behind his back.

Was his hair parted down the middle?

"Thank you, thank you," Harry said with a bow, his deep voice echoing throughout the theater. "It is so great to be here hosting a bachelorette party for the first time."

Wow. He had jokes up his sleeve, apparently. Was he about to do a stand-up routine?

The applause and praise continued as you shook your head in disbelief, letting a huge smile take over your face at the unexpected surprise.

"This is new territory for me," he said. I'm very excited to step back from my chef duties and do some comedy tonight."

There was no way he was going to do a comedy bit. You couldn't believe he crashed your party with a fancy suit and a routine ready to go. He was talking to your friend group in the audience like he was giving a Saturday Night Live monologue. You were going to lose it if he started playing the piano.

"You see, my fiancée and I go way back. We met about three years ago at a bar." He finally looked at you. "I ordered a lemon drop martini, and she ordered a strawberry margarita."

A stagehand brought out a clear martini and set it on the piano, and another one came down the stairs and placed a pink-colored margarita on your table. Your face heated at the simple yet thoughtful act.

"We talked for hours until I drunkenly asked her on a date. You know what she told me?" A plethora of whats were screamed from the crowd. "She said, 'Ask me again when you're sober!'"

Everyone laughed, and you hid your face in your hands. That wasn't even a joke; you had genuinely said that to him. You were blown away that he remembered such a tiny detail.

"Ultimately, I'm a very serious partner," Harry continued as he began sauntering toward the piano, "and nothing says serious partner like learning how to play the piano to impress my fiancée."

Taking a sip of your margarita, you glanced behind you. Some of your friends were recording him with their phones, and you were glad this could be something you could watch repeatedly.

Harry sat on the bench and exhaled. "Ooh, that feels good."

You had to wave one of the fans the drag queens gave out to cool down. He looked unfairly handsome, he was playing the goddamn piano, and he kept giving you secret looks that made you sweat.

"Now... I don't know if you've heard, but I'm not a boyfriend anymore." He stared straight at you. "I'm a fiancé now." Whistles from your friends caused him to proudly smile. "I'm also going to be dad," he casually blurted. "We're going to have a baby."

The entire room gasped, and you gaped at him with wide eyes. "We're not," Harry added after a short pause. "Wouldn't it be crazy if we were, though?" Your friends were now shaking you and battering you with questions. Harry smiled before his face dropped comically. "We're not."

He teasingly raised eyebrows and smirked at you as if to signify that you were actually pregnant, although you were drinking alcohol. Hopefully, everyone knew that you'd never be that stupid. 

The girls were gawking at you, but Harry rolled his lips in and shook his head to remove the confusion. He continued playing the piano, and your cheeks hurt from laughing so much. He was doing such a great job, and you were genuinely trying to figure out how he had pulled all of this off.

"I love my fiancée; she's my best friend," he said smoothly. "She's hilarious, honest, caring, fuckin' beautiful"—he trailed off and furrowed his eyebrows—"and, uh... good in bed." You rolled your eyes as he puckered his lips at you, more cheers filling the room.

"Yeah, that's right." He blew out a relieved breath. "I'm so grateful she doesn't live with her mother anymore."

"Oh my God, Harry!" you yelled with a surprised laugh.

It was a more private joke that no one understood fully, but it was funny nonetheless. You had used to live with your mother when you started dating Harry, and you always had to be quiet when he'd come over because, in his early twenties, testosterone needed to be having sex with you at the most inconvenient of times.

He winked at you before resuming. "However, for me, it's not about how my fiancée is in bed, even though I'd consider myself very lucky in that department. It's about her soul and her heart. And in all seriousness," he added as the laughter died, "I truly believe her soul is my love language."

Coos and squeals echoed at his statement, and you shyly smiled. You were the one who had taught him about all the different love languages; he had told you once that he thought your entire soul was what his was.

"Maybe some of you aren't convinced I'm a serious partner. You may be asking yourself: Did he really take secret piano lessons to do this? Well, if in doubt, just ask the maid of honor."

Your head whipped toward your maid of honor, sitting at a table behind you. She waved with a proud smile, and you gasped when you realized he must've done piano lessons with her since you knew she had played the instrument for several years.

Harry hummed loudly while closing his eyes, bringing your attention back to him. "I love being here in San Francisco. So much history."

The band behind him cheered as Harry dramatically sipped his martini. You'd never seen him so in his element with something besides his job. The confidence in the delivery of his jokes, the comedic timing, the professional stage setup—it was something you'd never forget.

"I've learned so much this week. Here's a few secrets about the hotel we're staying at," he said gaily. "Did you know they gave us the haunted room because of how pale I am?" He shook his head with a boyish smile. "That is funny."

You chuckled at the awful joke because he was actually paler than usual. It was the end of January, and he hadn't gone outside much since it'd been cold and gloomy by the coast where both of you lived.

"The bed in there is so creaky that it sounded like that one night in Mexico!" 

Shocked gasps and bursts of laughter rippled throughout your friends in the audience. It was a harmless joke about how you had all gone on a couples trip a while ago, and your friends had heard you and Harry getting down with it in the hotel room. It had been terribly embarrassing.

Harry laughed. "Everybody thinks we're a couple that has a lot of sex. We don't; that's why she sleeps in a different bed than me at home."

Okay, now that wasn't true.

"Except tonight!" he shouted cheekily while pointing at you. "I mean, I think I'm just about ready to take her home with how she looks right now."

The girls at your table nudged you, and you began to get flustered. He was giving you that look again.

Harry cleared his throat and stopped playing the piano. "All jokes aside, thank you so much to everyone for celebrating with her tonight. You've all been wonderful friends over the years, and I can't wait to see you all at the wedding. It'll be terrifying, but I'm so ready. Also, thank you for bearing with my terrible jokes. Have a good rest of the night!"

You applauded along with your friends, some of them throwing leftover confetti from the drag performance earlier toward him. He brought his hands together and bowed politely as the band played a closing song.

Harry's cheeks were as pink as your strawberry margarita when he walked down the stairs with one hand behind his back and the other adjusting his suit jacket. He locked eyes with you and pursed his lips, trying to hold back a smile. Everyone stood from their seats to greet him, and the band came down holding bouquets of white iris flowers, passing them out to each of your friends.

You met Harry halfway and instantly wrapped your arms around his waist as he tilted your head up for a messy kiss on the lips. He coaxed and smacked kiss after kiss out of you until your friends started making fake gagging noises from behind. He eventually pulled away and removed his hand behind his back to hold out a bountiful bouquet of red roses that matched the color of your dress.

"For my lovely fiancée." He gave you the bouquet and then turned your head so his mouth was by your ear. "I've got a taxi picking you up after this is done."

You nodded and ran your fingers across his stomach. "Sounds perfect. That was so incredible, Harry. And the piano? I'm impressed."

"It wasn't too much?" he asked, shyly rubbing a knuckle under his eyebrow. "I didn't know if you'd appreciate me crashing your girls night."

"Are you kidding? That was the best thing I've ever seen. I'm so proud of you."

Harry blushed, and you lovingly pinched his cheek. "Thanks. I was nervous because your friends always make fun of my jokes. I thought they wouldn't laugh."

"We were cracking up. You did so good," you complimented. "How did you keep it a secret from me? I had no idea."

"I'll never tell," he said with a cute shrug.

You lightly slapped his chest. "I'll get it out of you one day. Are you staying for the rest of the show?"

"It's your night, baby. Go enjoy it with your friends," he said. "I'll be waiting in the hotel room. You should stop by for a little rendezvous."

Your tipsy mind missed his attempt at a joke entirely. "We're staying in the same room, though."

"Bloody hell," he said with a laugh. "How much alcohol have you had?"

"Excuse me, not even a lot. Mind your business. I'm having a great time."

"I'm glad you're having fun. That makes me happy." Harry adjusted your tiara and then softly pecked the corner of your mouth three times. "I'll see you back in the room, okay?"

"For our rendezvous?"

"Our top secret rendezvous," he murmured against your temple. "Don't go around telling anyone, all right?"

"Sure thing," you replied while squeezing his sides. "You can go now."

An offended scoff escaped him, and he cradled the back of your head and leaned in. "Watch your mouth. I expect you to behave when you get back."

You puckered your lips and hummed contemplatively. "But it's my special day; you said so yourself. I can say whatever I—"

Harry cut you off by pressing his lips to your bottom one, biting it with his teeth before pulling back. "I love you so much, but that attitude isn't going to fly with me tonight."

You rolled your eyes. "Okay, dad."

"I'm leaving before this gets weird," he said with a smile. "Be safe, have fun, and call me if you need anything."

"Now you literally sound like a dad."

"Shush," he said. "I love you. I'll see you soon."

You pecked his lips one last time, tasting the sour lemon residue from his martini. "Love you."

"Have fun, ladies," he called out to your friends. "Take care of her, yeah?"

They all nodded, and Harry hugged you before heading to the stage to shake hands with the band. Soon after he was gone, the lights in the theater dimmed again, and the curtains opened for the final portion of the show. You headed back to your seat, feeling exceptionally giddy.

The rest of the party went by in a flash. Wigs, pop songs, and glitter invaded your brain, and now you were ready to return to the hotel. The tone he'd used earlier had made a shiver run down your spine. Low, insinuative, and almost impatient.

It was a tone that suggested you were in for a treat when you got back.

——

The key card swiftly slid into the slot. Two chirp-like beeps sounded, indicating that it was unlocked. Opening the heavy door, you stumbled inside the hotel room in the black heels you had already started to unclasp in the back of the taxi. There was confetti stuck to the bottom of them, and it nearly made you slip on the hardwood floors. That, and there was also a trail of rose petals and tea light candles weaving throughout the presidential suite that you didn't remember seeing when you had left earlier. 

You giggled to yourself as you followed the trail to the bedroom. Oh, Harry. You had almost forgotten he was here.

When you walked through the doorway, the king-size bed came into view. So did your fiancé. Harry was sitting pretty on the silk sheets with a flute of champagne in his left hand as he looked out the window at the San Francisco skyline. He was wearing the same outfit from his surprise act not too long ago, but his hair had become messier, and his eyes were glassy from the bubbly liquid you noticed was already half gone from the bottle on the nightstand.

You crawled toward him on the bed, setting your bouquet down. "Hi. I'm back."

His gaze was focused on you. He granted no response as his lips took a sip of the pale and fizzy drink he held so delicately, the gold engagement band on his ring finger gleaming from the moonlight illuminating the room. A low groan escaped his mouth when you straddled his thighs and applied pressure to his already hard cock. He wasn't saying anything, but you knew exactly what would get him to speak.

"What's got you so hard, baby?" you asked softly, tutting. "Were you thinking about me?"

His lips twitched as he finished the champagne and set it on the ground beside the bed. "Like you don't fuckin' know. Look at yourself, darling. It's honestly a shock that I wasn't on my knees for you at the theater."

Your hands rubbed up and down his thighs. "I had a feeling you'd like this little number."

It had been a struggle to get through the door to leave since his touch had been all over you the second you put on the red satin slip dress.

"What about me? Do you like my outfit?"

Such a narcissist, you thought to yourself. You ground against him, and he let out a breathy moan. "I do. Apparently, no boxers are part of the get-up."

Harry closed his eyes and smirked. "I might have no boxers on, but there's something else you might find. I went and did some quick shopping while you were gone."

Your slowed thoughts tried to catch up to what he could have been hinting at. "Shopping, huh? What did you buy?"

His large hands kneaded your ass. "Take a look."

He leaned forward and guided your hand to the button of his trousers. You quickly flicked it undone as he removed his suit jacket and began undoing the button-up. His body lifted on the bed so you could slide the garment off easier, and he hissed when it brushed past his cock.

Slowly but surely, his legs underneath were revealed, and your face heated to a thousand degrees. Fishnet tights. His leg hair and tiger tattoo peeked out from under the crosshatch material stretched tight against his skin. The redness of his cock looked painful from its restraint under them.

"I might've bought a little something too," you admitted as you scratched his skin through the thin fabric.

"Yeah?" He jerked his hips when your fingers grazed the head of his cock. "Show me, then. Go on."

You sat on your knees and lifted your dress to reveal the baby pink garter around your upper thigh. "It's your favorite color."

Harry licked his lips as his fingers delicately rubbed the lace. "I see that, sweetheart. Anyone particular on your mind when you bought it?"

"Was there anyone on your mind"—you snapped the waistband of his fishnets—"when you bought these?"

He bit his lip. "You're the only one I think of. The only one I would wear these for. I would crawl on my knees to you wearing them if that's what you wanted."

"Is that so? Quite the visual."

"I'll do it if you want me to." He paused, a smile slowly creeping across his face. "We can practice the garter toss for our wedding."

You made a noise of protest. "We are absolutely not doing that in front of our families. It'll be so humiliating."

"Don't have to, because we can do it right now," he suggested. A nip was given to your neck before he climbed off the bed and grabbed a chair.

Your eyebrows arched. "What are you doing?"

"We're doing this the traditional way," he explained with a nonchalant shrug. "I have to go under your dress and take it off."

"Will you be nice, or will you tease me?"

"Which do you prefer?"

You swung your legs over the bed and sat in the chair. "I prefer the way that gets you inside me as soon as possible."

"Well, I'll let you know once I'm between your thighs," he said, kneeling on the carpeted floor and waving his hands for you to spread open for him.

"No tickling, or I'm staying in another room," you warned as you slid off your heels and parted your legs.

Harry started crawling toward you with his tousled hair and day-old stubble, only wearing his fishnets and unbuttoned dress shirt. He never broke eye contact with you until he reached where you were sitting.

Your satin dress was then lifted over his head. You could instantly feel his hot breath against your legs, his lips grazing every patch of skin he could find. He left an open-mouthed kiss over your underwear that was already damp, and you moaned when his facial hair rubbed against your inner thigh.

You suddenly felt his teeth grab the garter as he pulled it down to your ankle. He took it off the rest of the way with his hand, bringing it over your shoe and moving out from under your dress. He stuck it between his teeth again and removed his button-up. Green eyes stared at you, and you clenched your legs under his intense stare. His tattooed torso was on full display. He was so, so beautiful.

Harry grabbed the garter and slid it on his bicep before saying, "Stand up."

You got up and switched spots with him, standing in front of him while he sat in the chair. He crossed his legs, his thighs thickening even more under the fishnets. You walked over and parted them so you could straddle him. The chair was thankfully wide enough to fit both of your knees on either side of him. You could almost feel his cock throb as you started desperately grinding against him to offer relief.

"Baby, slow down. Shit, slow down," he said quickly, his hands gripping your waist. "I need to last. You'll make me come right now if you keep doing that."

Slowing down, you took your time with each grind on his thigh. The pressure of the muscle felt like heaven as your core clenched around nothing. "Is that better?" you asked, raising your dress to see how his body reacted underneath you.

"Yes," he choked out, his neck straining. "I need to be inside you so bad."

"How bad?"

"So bad. I'm fuckin' throbbing for you. Please get on the bed."

You squeezed one of his balls through the fishnets, his hips bucking. "Where does it ache? Tell me how to make it better."

"Get on the bed," he gritted. "I'm not going to ask again."

There was the dominance you wanted. You nipped his earlobe and crawled off his legs. He immediately stood, hissing as he palmed himself through his tights. You helped him take them off.

"Top or bottom?" he asked while closing the curtains. "My fiancée's choice."

"Neither. I want it from behind."

"Say less." He turned around, gripping his cock and squeezing it once. "On the bed. Now."

You quickly slipped your dress and underwear off and knelt on the bed, facing the headboard. Harry got in position behind you, his cock resting on your lower back. He moved your hair to one side and whispered, "On all fours."

You placed your forearms on the bed and arched your back so he had a good angle. "Open your mouth," he commanded. You tilted your head up and to the side as he leaned in to spit in your awaiting mouth. His saliva pooled on your tongue, and you swallowed it down willingly. "Good girl."

Harry then reached his arm out to hold onto the headboard. The engagement ring on his finger caught your eye, as did his veiny hand that tightly gripped the burgundy wood.

The first thrust was divine. Searing pressure filled your walls, and Harry whimpered into your neck at your instant clench around his cock. He continued deeply thrusting into you as he took the garter off his arm and put it around your wrists so that they were restrained in front of you. Your hips burned. Harry's other hand squeezed your breast.

"Go faster," you said as his hand trailed down to your stomach, his long middle finger lightly grazing your clit.

He pounded harder, his skin slapping as the headboard creaked from the force. He was hitting all the deep spots, his pelvis meeting your ass each time. Your hands gripped the sheets when he glided his fingers up and down your dripping core. His head was nestled in your neck, muffled groans and pants leaving him when you pushed up your hips with each new thrust.

He removed his fingers that were coated with your arousal and spread his palm on your lower stomach. "Can you feel me there?"

You nodded fervently, crying out when a deep trust had you literally feeling him in your stomach. "Holy shit, Harry. I feel you. Please don't stop."

He pressed down and rubbed your stomach, the knot from your orgasm growing and bubbling up quickly. In one swift movement, he brought you to a sitting position as his cock continued stretching your wet walls. His thighs were touching yours, and you could feel them tense and tremble as you got closer, clenching hard around him.

"I'm going to get your name tattooed on my thigh right here," he said, taking the garter off your wrists and moving one of your hands to touch his right thigh. 

You were too submerged in ecstasy to reply to his random confession. A couple more thrusts had you blindly reaching back to grab his hand so you could come. He held it tightly as you unraveled, arching against him from the pleasure leaving you.

"That's my girl," he said in your ear. "My love, my love, my love. So gorgeous, coming for me like this."

Your ears were ringing, and Harry eventually spilled inside you while you still clenched from your remaining orgasm. You felt his warm release shoot inside you, his hand still holding yours and his body falling on top of you as he groaned hotly against your cheek. Heavy breathing was coming from both of you. Harry finished coming but kept his cock inside you, with throbs and twitches happening every so often.

"If we weren't engaged already," he started, "I'd propose to you right now because that was the best I've ever felt. Wow. My body feels all tingly."

You groaned, his dead weight on top of you making it hard to breathe. "Get off me. You're sweaty."

Harry rolled over and stared at the ceiling with his hands clasped on his stomach. The dim light illuminating the room and the perspiration glistening on his skin accentuated the carved outline of his abs, and you couldn't help but trace them with your fingertips.

"Shower?" he asked.

"Please."

He got up and carried you toward the bathroom. Everything in there was white marble, and the brightness hurt your eyes. The shower was small but comfortable enough to fit both of you. You already took one in the morning, but it would feel nice after a long, eventful night. It would also help you sober up as much as possible so you don't suffer through a terrible hangover tomorrow.

After laying down a towel and setting you atop the sink, Harry turned on the shower. He took off both of your engagement rings and then stood in front of the mirror. He inspected his stubble while he waited for the water to heat up.

"Should I shave?"

"Why?" you asked with a sharp tone that had him immediately raising his hands in surrender.

"All right," he mumbled with a teasing smile. "Blimey, woman. Don't get your knickers in a twist."

"What are you even saying?" you asked languidly. "I hate it when you speak old-timey British to me."

"Are you cheesed off at me now?"

"You're literally speaking gibberish." You hopped off the counter. "I'm getting in the shower. Goodbye."

Harry followed you and dove under the hot water, trapping you in a hug from behind. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?" The soft skin of his stomach against your back had you melting into him.

"I don't want you to divorce me before we get married," he explained, kissing your jaw. "I'm just playing it safe."

"Harry, you're the only person who can annoy me and make me endeared at the same time."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Yes," you replied, picking up the shampoo bottle you brought and handing it to him. "It makes me want to marry you right now."

He spurted a dollop of shampoo into his palm and began massaging it into your scalp with gentle and soothing motions. "I can't wait to marry you, either. Gonna treat you like a gentleman."

You lulled your head back, resting it on his collarbone. "You already do."

"I'll do it even more when I'm your husband, though. Make dinner for you every night and take you out on the town." He gravitated one hand toward your stomach. "Give you so many babies."

"Not so fast," you interjected with a dreamlike smile. "No babies anytime soon."

Harry filled the shower cup with water and poured it over your sudsy hair. "I hear you. Just know that I'm ready whenever you are."

"Let's get married first. I want you all to myself for a while."

"You always have me. That'll never change."

You turned him around so you could wash his hair next, opting for the same shampoo since he liked to steal it for himself anyway. After a prolonged yet comfortable silence, you asked, "Were you serious about tattooing my name on your thigh?"

"I'm dead serious," he replied. "I might even do it at my bachelor party. I work with a guy who's coming, and he does tattoos in his free time."

"But why on your thigh? It seems like a risqué place for it."

Harry turned his head and gave you a blank stare. "Would you rather me get it in a corny place like over my heart?"

You laughed, lathering shampoo in his curly hair. "No, not really. I guess you're right. It's kind of a secret spot for only us to know."

"Not unless I wear shorts all the time."

"Yeah, but thankfully, you wear pants every day at work. I don't want your coworkers to see that."

"Why not? I can't show you off anymore?" he teased, reaching back to pinch your side. "Wow, you propose to a woman, and suddenly she wants to be anonymous."

"Shut up," you muttered through a smile. "I honestly don't care. Just please don't get it inked in an ugly font."

Harry moved under the shower head, closing his eyes and slicking his hair back. "Well, it's a good thing I was going to ask if you'd write it out for me."

"Seriously?"

"No," he said in a deadpan manner, spitting out some water that had gotten in his mouth. "I'm thinking Comic Sans."

Poking the soft skin under his belly button, you said, "You think you're so funny now because you did a five-minute comedy routine."

He didn't provide a retort, but you saw him grin as he washed the rest of the shampoo from his hair. His nose was scrunched while he scratched his scalp and cleaned the foamy residue off his face.

After a peaceful moment of nothing but the sound of the shower water beating down, Harry opened his arms and brought you in for a hug. "I love you. You know that?"

You kissed his collarbone. "Where did that come from?"

"Dunno." He shrugged and cradled your head with his hands. "It hit me that we're getting married in a month."

It had been hitting you as well. You'd been waiting so patiently for the special day to arrive. "I love you," you said quietly. Thank you for tonight and every night. You make life worth living."

"Are you trying to make me cry?"

"Yes."

"Cool."

It fell silent as you stared longingly at each other with growing smiles. Harry slowly started getting closer to your face, his dimples carving deeper until his eyes crossed from how near he was. His forehead dropped against yours, and you rolled your lips in when he attempted to steal a kiss from you.

"How about another rendezvous, but this time we get in bed and fall asleep?" you suggested, reaching around him and shutting the shower off. Sporadic drips and exiting warmth greeted you.

He pouted. "Only if you kiss me."

"We've done enough of that today."

"You're really not going to kiss your fiancé after I just told you I'd give you babies? That's dire."

You laughed and admired a water droplet cascading from his pointed nose. "If you blow dry my hair for me, I'll reconsider."

Flinging the shower curtain open, Harry yanked a fluffy towel from the hook on the wall, then gently wrapped it around your body before grabbing one for himself and tying it low on his hips. The blow dryer next to the mirror didn't have a long cord, so you sat on the counter for easier access and squeezed any remaining wetness from your hair into the sink. Meanwhile, Harry covered the top of his head with a towel. He looked like the Virgin Mary.

You gave him a comb, and he took the blow dryer with his other hand, turning it on and gesturing at you to ensure it wasn't too hot on your skin. For the next ten minutes, the sound of the loud dryer filled the space. It would have been a stressful sound in any other situation—trying to dry soaking wet hair from the pool before dinner reservations or untangling knots from yesterday's sleep. This time, it was relaxing. Domestic. A moment in time.

The soothing scratches Harry gave to your head as he combed through every citrus-scented strand could have put you to sleep. The hotel room's air conditioner was cold and crisp, but occasionally, he'd lower the dryer so it blew warm air on your arms.

Before you knew it, the dryer clicked off, and peaceful quietness surrounded you. Harry's hair dried much quicker than yours, so he took off the towel on his head and tied some of his damp curls up in a ponytail for the night.

His hands planted themselves on either side of your legs. "Kiss time," he whispered, his arms taut.

You slid off the counter, finding yourself trapped by his body—not that you minded. Grabbing his left hand, you raised it to your lips to kiss his ring finger, then put his gold engagement band back on.

"My mouth is up here."

You grinned. "And? What about it?" Harry annoyingly pushed his forehead into your cheek, grumbling something incoherently. You pushed it away and asked, "What did you say?"

"I said I think I'll die if you don't kiss me," he repeated dramatically.

"What kind of kiss do you want?"

He once told you that he had favorites for different situations: a nip, tug, peck, tongue, or the type where you both smile so big that the kisses become messy and mixed with giggles. The latter was your personal favorite.

He hummed, his nose wrinkling as he pondered. "The one where you do all the work."

You laughed softly. It wasn't necessarily a joke he was making; he genuinely enjoyed it when your lips moved against his. Sometimes, he just wanted to be kissed silly. It was never awkward, nor did it feel like a chore. He was the most kissable person to roam the earth, so resisting was hard.

"Okay," you said, draping your arms over his shoulders. "Only for a little bit, though. I'm exhausted."

Harry nodded and lifted you, setting you on the counter again. Your legs circled around his hips. "I'll return the favor tomorrow," he said.

The towel on his waist was hanging on for dear life. His eyelids were lazily drooping from tiredness, and his skin was flushed from the steam. How could someone look so pretty in hotel bathroom lighting?

Your hand on his cheek gently guided him to your mouth. His lips were damp and plush from the shower, parting naturally with each of your doting kisses. With his nose nudged against yours, pleased hums came from his throat as you alternated between his top and bottom lips. Kissing him never gets old. It could be soft or rough, long or short, brought about by love or annoyance. It was a cure all the same.

After a slow and innocent onslaught of kisses, you pulled away before you ended up making out with him until morning. Bruised, aching lips could wait.

Harry whined in protest. "That was only, like, five seconds."

"Guess what?" You trailed your fingertips along his neck. "You have the rest of your life to kiss me."

He yawned while shaking his head. "That's not enough time. Give me forever."

"I'll try," you said fondly, sliding your engagement ring back on.

You would until children of your own were born, which required you to share that love. Until your children's children withdrew even more of it. Yet, despite that, Harry would always be the first person you had given your heart to completely. He had never taken advantage of it. He had never made you doubt his love for you. It was the kind of love that was immortal. It would never die out and would remain the greatest feeling you'd ever felt in this life and the next.

If evermore was attainable, you liked to believe it was made possible by loving him.

——

[its-time-to-write]

this is 100% self indulgent. no one asked for this except me and I have zero excuse for how it turned out. i have no defense, no witty rebuttal, no nothing. i wrote this because i wanted to, and at the very least i hope this inspires someone to write their borderline-self-insert fic and post it publicly.

this fic is set after season 3. enjoy😂

(oh now might also be a good time to mention how much I love Man City. bc it’s a lot.)

can’t hear my thoughts (i cannot hear my thoughts)

Calling Lake Como beautiful is like saying space is big. It’s true for sure, but it feels like an understatement. It’s June and the weather is absolutely gorgeous, perfect for the wedding you’re attending. It’s for two good friends of yours, and it’s going to be a party full of football royalty. You’re mostly excited to see friends who are WAGs from other teams who you’ve connected with over the past year and a half.

Oh, and you suppose it will be a nice vacation with Jamie, too.

You’re staying at a beautiful hotel that’s been open since 1910, and you swear you’ll never stay somewhere as beautiful again.

“Getting ideas for the house?” Jamie teases, and it sends a thrill down your spine with the way he refers to his house as your collective home. 

You grin as he spins you around the Suite Greta. Everything is golden, from the drapes to the pillows to the sun catching on his face.

“No,” you reply, “but maybe for a vacation home?”

Jamie laughs as he catches you up in his arms. “I could see us here in the next off-season. Not sure we’d get out much,” he muses and you wrap your arms around him as tight as they can go.

You’re here for a full week but Isaac’s wedding is only one day. You and Jamie have plans to see everyone who’s in town, as well as have some time to yourself.

“Sasha wants to go out for dinner tonight,” you tell Jamie as he unpacks his suitcase.

“Girls only, or will Jack be there?”

“Let’s see,” you hum as you scan the group chat. “Isabel said she and Erling will be there, so looks like it’s a couple’s thing. That’ll be fun, right?” you ask with just a hint of anxiety. Jamie and Jack are friends, they’ve run in the same circles for years, but you’re not sure how he’s going to feel about being outnumbered two to one, City to Richmond, at dinner.

“As long as Rodri ain’t there, I’m fucking chuffed,” he says as he lays out his suit on the bed.

“Chuffed? Is that a thing you say now?” you ask, flat on your back on the bed.

“Yep,” he replies. “I’m posh now, babe. Sorry you Americans can’t do it as well as we Brits.”

“I have it on good authority that we do it very well,” you smirk. “But I don’t think that’s something you’ll get to experience tonight. I haven’t seen Sash or Isa in ages, so we’ll probably talk for a long time and then I’ll be tired when we get back to the room.”

Jamie groans. “You’re sadistic, woman. The shit you put me through.”

You smile and remind him, “You’re the one who picked me, remember?”

—

Jamie is technically the one who picked you. You had just moved from America to London, got a temp job at a Richmond FC, and the rest is history. You don’t work at Richmond anymore, haven’t for a while, as you’ve been able to start your own thing in between attending matches and events and whatever else Jamie’s invited to. Being Jamie’s girlfriend is a full-time job on its own, and he definitely spoils you beyond what you’re used to. He’s the one who bought your dress for the wedding and it freaked you out just a little bit until you called Sasha (an angel, by the way) who laughed and talked you off the ledge. 

“Comes with the territory, babe. They’re just boys with more money than they know what to do with. Jack’d buy me the moon if he could figure out how. Enjoy it. It’s been a while since anyone’s seen Tartt this happy.”

So you do. You had been living together for almost a year now so you’d think that a dress wouldn’t push you over the edge, but there you go. You’re trying to be calmer about it. It’s better ever since you met Sasha and Isabel. 

You had been stuck in a room while Jamie talked to his old manager, and they had noticed your deer-in-the-headlights expression. You’re right in the middle of the two, age-wise, and from similar enough backgrounds.

“Here’s my number. Come over to my flat tomorrow for brunch. We’ll get you settled, babes,” Sasha had said. You went and it had been amazing to finally make real friends, even if they were technically on the opposing team. 

You’re excited to see them, excited for Isaac to finally get married, and excited to spend a full seven days with Jamie by your side. It’s going to be the best.

—

You enter the venue arm-in-arm with Jamie, practically dancing across the grass. The sun’s shining and there are all sorts of people you know and love. It feels a little surreal to be here. 

Earlier, back in the room, you had slipped into your dress carefully to avoid getting makeup stains on the front. The skirt fell just at your knees and puffed out ever so slightly, with thick straps instead of regular sleeves so you could fully enjoy the warm weather. 

“Do a spin,” he had said, voice full of glee. You’d acquiesced, twirling around to let the blue tile print billow out before he caught you, kissing your shoulder so as not to ruin your makeup. 

Now, you’re holding onto him and trying not to wrinkle his linen suit when you hear someone shout your name. 

“Sasha!” you screech, running toward her as best you can with your shoes on the grass. You squeeze each other into a tight hug, uncaring about about the state of her hot pink dress. 

“Hey man,” Jack says to Jamie, who grins and shakes his hand. “You’d think they haven’t seen each other in fucking ages.”

“It’s been twelve hours,” you say. “And before that it’s been like two months. Anyway, don’t you two have some football to discuss or something? Or headbands? Or-”

“Really short socks,” Sasha helpfully supplies. 

Jamie shakes his head. “Fuck off, Attwood.”

“Fuck you, Tartt,” she replies. 

“Oi, you two wouldn’t even be friends if it weren’t for me. You could be a little nicer,” Jamie says. 

“Oh is that Hughes?” Jack asks before either Sasha or Jamie can escalate. Their entire friendship is based off sniping one another and neither you nor Jack are particularly in the mood for it today. 

Jamie turns to look. “Oh mint, looks like things are starting. You saved us seats?”

“Yeah, with Haaland and Isabel,” Sasha returns, linking her arm through yours. “C’mon, did you get yourself a parasol?”

—

It’s the most beautiful wedding you’ve ever been to. Stella looks stunning in her gown, Isaac stoically sobs his eyes out while Colin surreptitiously hands him a tissue. Even Roy seems to be having a good time, but then again Keeley once told you that he “really fucking loves weddings.” You hadn’t believed her, but his lips are in a straight line instead of a frown so maybe she was right. 

There’s a group of City and Richmond players together, and it’s a little strange to see how friendly they are off the pitch. Dani is explaining something with lots of hand gestures to Phil while the rest of the group jokes around. 

Sasha sneaked you and Isabel away to get drinks for yourselves and you were about to get away unnoticed when Erling caught Isabel’s arm and asked for a drink too, so now you’re ordering for your boyfriends as well as yourselves. 

You don’t really care, there’s a part of you that’s reveling in the sheer joy of being young and hot. Sue you. 

“Cosmo, please,” you say while the girls order drinks of their own. Sasha raises an eyebrow so you shrug and say, “Jamie likes what he likes.”

She rolls her eyes and scoffs “Tartt,” but it’s with the affection of an older sister so you elbow her and ask, “What did Jack want?”

She makes a face. “Heineken. He also likes what he fuckin’ likes.” 

You wheeze out a laugh as Isabel comes to join you. She smiles as she sips from something lavender colored in a martini glass. She cuts an elegant figure in her yellow, billowy dress. You smooth your dress and open your mouth to say something when a voice calls your name. You look to see your ex walking up, hand-in-hand with his wife. You know, the one he left you for. 

“Jake,” you say in surprise. God, you need your brain to form coherent thoughts right now. “What are you doing here?”

He grins, far too wide and goofy to be real. Not like Jamie, you think. 

“Oh, you know, Emma’s loosely related to the bride on her dad’s side. She asked for an invite, so here we are. Who are you here for? Bride or groom?”

“Both, actually,” you reply automatically. Jake’s words are grating, not so much in content as they are in tone. He always had a way of saying things condescendingly, like everyone else was a stupid little kid. 

“Oh,” he says in what you think is supposed to be surprise, “that’s funny. I didn’t know you knew anyone out here. You’ve been living in England all alone, right?”

Emma just hovers by Jake’s shoulder. She’s not contributing anything to this conversation except a snooty little smirk. 

“No,” you say. “I’m not alone. This is Isabel, by the way.” You look around for Sasha, but she’s disappeared. Smart girl. 

Isa doesn’t extend her hand. “Nice to meet you,” she says and Jake takes her at her word. He puffs up his chest a little bit as he asks, “Where are you from? You don’t sound British.”

“We’re from Norway,” a voice behind her says. “I’m Erling.”

Sasha has reappeared with Jack, Erling, and Jamie in tow. You mentally congratulate her with a well done, Sash as you feel Jamie’s arm loop around your waist. 

He feels like a solid wall against your back, a glimmer in an otherwise garbage moment. 

Jake takes stock of the three men who are looking at him with less-than friendly stares. You’re not sure what Sasha told them, but you’re absolutely positive Jamie recognizes Jake. You can practically feel the hairs on his arm bristling. 

Jake finishes his assessment and deems it appropriate to talk. “So, how do you all know each other?”

Jamie scoffs and looks away, while Jack stares at Jake like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. 

You wonder what it is with your affinity for J-names. 

“We’re footballers,” Erling says before anyone can take more offense. 

“Premier League footballers,” Jamie adds, as if it means anything to Jake. 

Jake’s American, like you, and he’s never been much for sports anyway. He wouldn’t even recognize David Beckham if the man were standing under a poster of himself. 

Jake says, “Right. Hey, weren’t you on one of those trashy dating shows?” and Jamie stiffens. 

Sasha mutters, “Fuck’s sake,” under her breath as Erling and Isabel take pointed interest in something in the distance.  

“No,” Jamie replies shortly. “The fuck were you talking to my girl?”

Jake looks to you in surprise. “Oh! You two are together? That’s… well, that’s… I guess I just didn’t expect her to be whoring around like that. But hey, move to another country and all morals go out the window, right?”

That’s the thing about Jake. He never speaks as if he’s actually trying to be offensive. He just says what’s on his mind. And you’re a little concerned that what’s on his mind is going to land Jamie (and quite possible Jack) in jail. Neither of them are especially known for backing down from a squabble. “Cut from the same cloth,” Pep was rumored to say. 

“Fuck off, mate,” Jack interjects. “Just fuck off. Everyone here loves her, and you can’t talk about her like that.”

Your ex reevaluates the situation at hand and decides the best thing to do would be to take Emma’s hand and walk away. 

“Strange that his wife does not speak,” Erling remarks. 

You grimace. “You could’ve stopped at ‘strange.’ No idea what I ever saw in him.”

Jamie has a crushing grip on your waist so you wiggle a bit to get him to loosen up. 

“Prick,” he mutters. “How the fuck did he even get here, anyway? He’s in fucking America.”

“His wife’s loosely related to Stella. They asked for an invite,” Isabel volunteers. 

Jamie rolls his eyes. “Oi, if he tries to talk to you again, I’ll grab Roy and we’ll fucking kill him.”

“Yeah, ‘cause McAdoo’s never been above a little violence at a party,” Jack grins. 

You return his smile and say, “Thanks, but I’m pretty sure his mother-in-law would kill you.”

Erling huffs out a laugh. “Never a dull moment in the Premier League, is there?”

Isabel grins and loops her arm through his. “I’m tired of all this,” she says.  “Let’s go dancing. There’s a band and we don’t have to think about anything other than celebrating, yes?”

“God yes,” says Sasha.

Jamie still looks murderous, but you squeeze his hand once and whisper, “I’m fine, babe. It’s fine.”

He looks like he wants to argue, but he lets you pull him along to the dance floor with the group.

— 

There are so many people that you don’t even catch a glimpse of Jake and Emma. You’re not sure what they’re up to, and fairly certain they don’t know anyone else here. You on the other hand, are living your best life as Jamie sings along to “Ain’t No Mountain.” He’s swinging your arms around as he sways in time to the music. You just let him lead you however he wants. The song ends and he presses his lips to your ear so you can hear him over the sheer volume of everyone talking. “D’you want a drink? I can go get you something.”

You nod and mouth my usual, please, so he salutes and begins weaving his way through the crowd. You watch him as long as you can before spinning back around with a smile.

A smile that quickly fades when you realize Emma is right in front of you.

She says, “Cute dress,” and for a moment, you believe she’s being sincere but then she follows it up with, “Did you borrow it from your grandma’s closet? I’ve seen people do that.” 

Right, because grandmas are known for wearing dresses like this. 

“What? No, Jamie got it for me,” you say. 

“Oh cute, is it from Walmart? I think I saw something like it there last week.”

Emma is trying to draw blood. You suppose she’s taking her shot now as opposed to back then because she thinks there’s no one around to call her out. No one who knows her. 

You say, “They don’t have Walmart here,” instead of “It’s Dolce & Gabbana,” because the second phrase would make you sound like a prick. There’s a part of you that wants to be a prick, though, wants to channel that part of Jamie that’s ruthless, vicious and cruel, messing with the opposition before he cuts them down. 

The first time you saw it, it was hard to believe the Jamie on the pitch was the same Jamie who played with your hair while you cooked, or put a sticky note on his fridge titled “Babe,” detailing everything you’d ever said you liked. 

Emma sees she’s not getting to you, so she changes tactics. “Must be hard being here without any friends,” she remarks. “All alone. And you’ve never been especially extraverted. Are those people the only ones here you know?”

God, Jamie, where are you?

You open your mouth to respond but are cut off by someone with a distinctly midwestern twang say, “I heard one of my favorite countrywomen was here.”

You turn to see Ted Lasso grinning at you in a black suit. It’s the same smile you remember, albeit his eyes are a little sharp. You’d bet anything he knows exactly what’s going on between you and Emma. 

“Ted!” you smile as a rush of relief floods your system. You step into his arms for a hug as he says, “Hey, sweetheart. How’ve you been?”

“Oh, you know,” you say. “Kind of great, actually. I wondered if you were going to be here! Have you seen Jamie yet?”

Ted shakes his head. “Y’know, I haven’t. Why don’t we find him together?” He offers you an arm and you take it gratefully, choosing not to spare Emma a glance.

“She seems like a real bucket of laughs,” Ted remarks.

“You have no idea. That’s my ex’s wife.”

Whatever Ted thought you were going to say, he certainly wasn’t prepared for that. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before settling on a short, “Well I’ll be danged.”

You laugh and stand on tiptoes to try to see Jamie. You don’t see him, but you catch a glimpse of an especially tall, blond head.

“This way,” you tell Ted. You brush past Phil who smiles at you, past Colin and Michael, and past someone you’re pretty sure is a Beckham.

You make your way to Erling and Isabel as they dance to the music in their own corner.

You frown. “Have you seen Jamie?” you shout. 

Isabel shakes her head. “He was looking for you,” she calls back.

“Oh,” you say, “Ted, this is Isabel and-”

“Erling Haaland,” Ted says, hand outstretched. “Pleasure to meet you, son. Big fan of the way you play the game.”

You miss Erling’s response, startled by a hand on your shoulder. You turn to see Sam standing behind you.

“Sam!” you exclaim with a grin, “You look so handsome!”

Sam returns your grin and strikes a pose. “I’ve been sent on a very important mission. I am to retrieve you and bring you to Jamie and I am under no circumstances allowed to let a small rat man named Jake speak to you.”

You raise an eyebrow. 

“Jamie’s words, not mine,” Sam clarifies. “Although I must admit, I have seen this rat man. I do not like him very much.”

“You and me both,” you agree. You wave to Isabel and pat Ted on the arm before following Sam.

He leads you away from the crowd of people to a stone path illuminated by small lights. This can’t be right, you think but Sam points down the path and says, “This is where I leave you.”

He turns to leave then changes his mind and spins back around. “It was lovely seeing you today, albeit for a short amount of time. I hope I will be seeing more of you while we are here. It is not often I meet someone who makes Jamie more tolerable.”

He speaks with a touch of humor and it’s just enough to dispel any apprehensions about what’s waiting for you in the dark. 

You say, “Thanks Sam. Love ya,” which he returns before he disappears back to the main party.

You take a breath and head down the steps.

It’s dark, the light barely shining enough for each step, but as you get farther you see a shadowy figure sitting on a bench under a tree. You smile. You can tell exactly who it is by his silhouette.

Jamie stands as you get closer and pulls you into his arms.

“Thought we’d sneak away to make out a bit,” he says. “And maybe to you wouldn’t yell at me in front of all our friends.”

You groan. “What did you do? Please tell me it has nothing to do with Roy. Or Jack. Oh my god, did you two start convincing people you were separated at birth again? Because it’s really only funny one time.”

“Well…” Jamie hedges.

You pinch his back. It’s the only part of him you can reach at the moment. “Jamie Tartt, you’d better tell me what you did right now or so help me you are going to be sleeping on the couch for the rest of our lives.”

“Oi, don’t fucking do that!”

He reaches back to grab your hands and holds them flat on his chest. “We- Roy, Grealish, and me, might have gotten your prick ex kicked out.”

“You what?” you gasp.

Jamie starts speaking in a rush before you can say anything else. “Look, y’know how protective Grealish gets, especially because Sasha fucking loves you, and then Roy heard that your prick ex was here (not the twat ex) and he said it’s easier for him to get in and out of fights on account of him being a fucking manager but then Grealish said that it’s pretty much expected that fights happen so might as well and anyway, no one’s gonna fuckin’ snitch on any of us because (hate to break it to you babe), but you’re, like, everyone’s kid sister. They’d fucking kill for you so it’s possible that we channeled that into threatening to break all of his bones if he ever ended up in the same country as you again.”

You’re processing all of the things Jamie said plus the incredible speed at which he said them, so all you can manage is a single “Okay,” before he’s talking again.

“Ehm, it’s also slightly-fucking-possible that someone did break his foot.”

“What?” you all but shout.

“Coordinated effort between Isa and Haaland,” Jamie says. “Lad’s a fucking wall, don’t know if you’ve noticed.”

“Jesus, Jamie,” you groan. “I don’t know if I should kiss you or pinch you again.”

“You can do both,” he suggests.

You sigh. “I’m going to kiss you. Like, a lot. And I’m not going to worry about getting caught and after we’ve snogged like a pair of kids in high school- sorry, secondary school, then we’re going to eat a bunch more food and dance with our friends. And if you want to get sloshed, I promise I will only take funny videos for myself, and I will not send them to your mum this time.”

Jamie says, “Liar,” as he kisses the tip of your nose.

“Fine,” you concede, “I will most definitely send them to your mum. And Simon. We’re on a group chat.”

“Not even gonna fucking ask,” Jamie says as he threads a hand through your hair so he can get at a better angle to kiss you.

—

You wake up the next morning (ahem, afternoon) to Jamie’s foot in your face.

“Excuse me, sir,” you say.

He hiccups himself awake. “Yeah?” he rumbles. “What fucking time..?”

“Late, I assume,” you say.

He groans and flips himself around so your heads are on the same side of the bed. He wastes no time in tangling your limbs together.

“Oi, koala boy. Some of us have morning breath.”

“No y’don’t babe,” he mumbles.

You scratch his head and a shudder runs through his body. “I know,” you say, “my breath is perfect. I meant you. I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“Cruel woman,” he returns before lapsing into silence. The sun slips through the curtains, and you’re sure it’s going to be another gorgeous day

“Jamie,” you begin then stop.

He says, “Yeah, love?” while looking up at you with his gorgeous blue eyes and you take a moment to freeze this image in your head. 

Jamie Tartt, in bed, hair tousled from sleep. Pillowy white duvet, golden freckled skin, warm body pressed to yours.

He kisses your shoulder, rousing you from your thoughts. 

“Jamie,” you say again, “I wanted to say-”

“Don’t,” he interjects. “You’re not fucking allowed to say thank you for the bare fucking minimum.”

“But it’s not,” you reply, opting to skate over the fact that he apparently can read your mind. “Bare minimum is like, making sure I’m not alone with him, not getting your friends together to scare him off and break his foot.”

Jamie’s been kissing your skin wherever he can reach as you speak, so his words are interspersed with pecks. “Technically, the foot was an accident. Ask any one of our witnesses. And besides, they’re your friends too. You’re the one who got ‘em all to like ya despite the fact we’re mortal enemies on the pitch.”

“You’re the one who goes tanning with Jack,” you remind him.

“Lies told by the press,” Jamie grumbles. “This is my natural sexy glow.”

You say, “Okay little British boy,” as Jamie decides that his current position is not enough and he wants to lay on top of you.

He says something but his face is buried in the crook of your neck, so all you can feel is vibrations.

You ask, “Hm?” so he lifts his head.

“What if it were us next year?”

“Tanning or breaking feet?”

“Getting married.”

Jamie goes back to having his mouth on your neck as if the air weren’t just punched from your lungs.

You’re quiet long enough that he lifts his head again to ask, “Is that good quiet or bad quiet?”

“Good!” you hastily confirm. “Good, but, babe- you haven’t even asked me yet.”

He says, “I’m going to,” as if you should have known already. 

“Okay,” you breathe, “can you give me like a little heads up or something so my nails are done?”

“Uh-huh,” he says, “At the end of the week. Been planning it. Ring’s in my bag, even asked Stella if she’d be pissed that it’s the same week she took on the most un-sexy last name in history. She said she don’t give a shit as long as it’s not at her actual wedding. So.”

“I love you,” you tell him. “Not just because of yesterday or right now. I just think you’re great.”

“I am great, babe,” he says like it’s obvious. “Picked you, didn’t I?”

You crack a smile. “Alright, that’s enough out of you. Do you want to get out of bed or go back to sleep?”

“Sleep,” he replies immediately. 

“Thank God,” you groan, “I didn’t want to move. You’re like a weighted blanket.”

“It’s me sexy muscles,” Jamie says. You wiggle under him to get more comfortable.

“Uh huh,” you agree, but the words are hardly out of your mouth before you’re both back to sleep.