#pick your lock in a wedding dress

[emtmercy]

Armand is this to Lestat except they’re not even exes

[tojicide]

⠀⠀ BOO! ☆ SYLUS QIN.

summary. the ruby wedding ring your ex-husband gave you should hold no meaning by now, so that was why you wore it on halloween night as an accessory to your costume. it shouldn’t be a big deal… right?

warnings. fem! reader. established history, pet names, jealousy, mutual degradation, spitting, fingering, oral ( fem. receiving ), unprotected p in v. wc. 3.2k.

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Dressing up as a vampire was a stroke of genius if you do say so yourself.

A black floor length dress with a mighty high leg slit with your makeup done to the nines…

After being showered with compliments and approached by men who fawned over you like their lives depended on it, you were almost inclined to believe that being this sexy should be punishable by law.

Luckily for you, it isn’t, and that’s exactly why you’re a free woman who is able to enjoy this wonderful Halloween night.

Strobe lights fan over the sea of people you’re currently floating in, the smell of alcohol and the musk of sweat and cologne swarming you entirely. Music blared over loud speakers, rendering you practically deaf to your surroundings, and perhaps that was why you hadn’t noticed your ex-husband approach you from behind.

“Boo,” he purrs into your ear as he dips his head just enough for his deep voice to be heard, his large hand snaking around your waist to spin you around.

Your smile immediately falters upon seeing the white-haired man who seems to make it his life goal to ruin any ounce of fun that you have without him. “Sylus,” you deadpan.

“Why, excuse me,” he replies through a dark chuckle. “I had no idea we were going to be so brash. Had I known,” he raises his hand to twirl a strand of your hair around his finger, “I would have tugged on these pretty locks of yours to get your attention instead.”

You raise your hand to pull his hand away from your hair, and that’s the moment when he sees it.

(Your ring. He’d recognize it anywhere, of course, he had it designed just for you.)

Sylus takes your hand in his, brushing his thumb over the garnet jewel that you loved so much. “Hm. What’s this?”

You hate how easy it is for him to pick up on such minuscule details about you. It makes you feel flattered, which is absolutely disgusting. You don’t want to feel flattered, not by your ex-husband of all people.

“A ring,” you reply, sliding your hand from his grasp. “An accessory to my costume.”

Sylus shortly hums, his red eyes giving you a once over as he pokes his tongue into his cheek. “Is it necessary to wear it on that finger in particular? You know the implications of such a thing.”

You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s just a ring. It hardly means anything anymore.”

He bristles at that, raising a brow at you. It stung to hear, but he knew that you didn’t mean it. You knew how he was when it came to things of sentimental value—nothing ever lost its touch with him, especially when it came to you.

“Oh, how quickly you dismiss our love. Such a cruel woman you are,” he says, his voice dropping in octave as a smirk tugs on the corner of his lips.

“Cruel?” you repeat with a scoff. “Please.”

“Cruel indeed,” he insists, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back as he lures you closer to him. Perhaps he should have dressed as the vampire with his red, hypnotic eyes and all, but instead, he dressed as a boxer. “Although, I can’t say I dislike the idea of you parading around in my ring. Wards off the men.”

You can’t help snort at that. “Oh, right, because something as trivial as a ring would deter a man from a face as beautiful as this,” you muse, raising your hand to place a few smacks on his cheek. “In your dreams.”

Sylus chuckles at that. He truly should’ve known you and your sharp tongue wouldn’t be able to resist chuckling a few jabs his way. “I see you in my dreams as is, sweetie. I don’t need the sentiment.”

You scoff. “What you need to do is get a grip. I don’t know if you’ve lost your mind, but we are divorced. D-i-v-o-r-c-e-d. Divorced. Do you know what that means?”

That word hardly meant anything to him. He still wore his wedding ring and addressed you as his wife. He did it shamelessly.

“Such nasty words from such a pretty mouth,” he says through a sigh. “And no, I don’t know what that means. Pray tell.”

“It means that we leave each other alone,” you’re quick to reply. “I don’t want you anymore, Sylus.”

Sylus doesn’t like that idea, not one bit. He doesn’t care if he sounds like a broken record, but he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you alone. Perhaps he enjoyed pestering you, watching as that cute expression of annoyance etched across your face every time you ran into one another.

“You’re so pretty when you lie,” he murmurs.

You shortly huff. “You’d be prettier if you knew how to shut up.”

Sylus feigns offense, placing his hand over his chest. “You wound me.”

But he does take notice of the fact that you hadn’t denied his words. If anything, it stirs something within him. He isn’t sure what it is exactly, and before he can figure it out, you’re already walking away.

“Sweetie—”

“Don’t call me that,” you reply. His call out to you doesn’t deter you from your path, and before long, you’re already swimming in a sea of men who look like they want to devour you.

Sylus can’t blame them for their incredibly good taste in women, but what he can blame them for is their attraction to his wife.

He tries to obey your wishes, and he leaves you alone for a good… seven and a half minutes. And yes, he’s been counting, because each second that passes where you give another man your undivided attention is a second that he wants cut off from his lifespan.

He does his best, truly, he does. He even sent Luke and Kieran to fetch him a drink. He’s… partying. Yay.

It’s no use, though. Nothing could ever distract him from your presence. Hearing your laugh from across the room is like music to his ears, his favorite song that he cannot bear to part with.

But suddenly, everything shifts.

You’re… holding hands with another man. Not just any hand either.

And when you turn to make eye contact with Sylus, he’s already well on his way to you by the time that bastard’s lips lean in to press a kiss on your left hand, just below his ring.

You’re thrown over his shoulder before you have a say in the matter, and his stiffened arm gets sent into the strange man’s chest. He hadn’t meant to push him very hard, but evidently, his jealousy piqued the moment his hand made contact with him.

“There you are, my gorgeous wife,” he quips, laying a playful smack on your ass.

“Jesus, Sylus! What the—” you exclaim, watching as the man you were talking to falls to the ground.

Before you know it, you’re being carried into the bathroom and spun around, your front facing the mirror while he presses against you from behind.

You really shouldn’t be turned on by this, but you honestly can’t help yourself.

“My, my, sweetie, I knew you were a liar, but I didn’t take you for a whore too,” he says, his voice low and almost rasped. “Nearly allowing another man to kiss the hand I’ve claimed? Tsk tsk.”

You roll your eyes at him, but that only earns you another smack on your ass. It was firmer that time, too.

“You know, you don’t have to have a dick measuring competition with every man I talk to all because of a ring,” you huff, planting your palms on the bathroom counter.

Sylus chuckles at that, his hands sliding over your hips before he splays his palm on the curve of your back, forcefully pushing you over the counter. “Please, you know there isn’t any competition there.”

You hate it when he’s right, and right now, he was definitely correct. You can feel the truth in all of his glory, the outline of his cock pressing against your backside through the fabric of his shorts as he keeps you bent over for him.

You grumble a low, “oh, fuck me,” that you thought went unheard, but you couldn’t have been more wrong.

“I never thought you’d ask,” he says, laying another smack on your reddening ass.

You narrow your eyes at him through the mirror. “You’re an asshole, Sylus.”

He hums, working to bunch your dress up around your hips to give him a nice view of your cherry red asscheek, and God, is it beautiful.

“I’m aware,” he says as if it were the most casual thing in the world. “Such pretty panties. You know these are my favorite, you dirty woman.”

Your eyebrows furrow as he disappears from the mirror’s reflection, and before you can think it over, you feel your lace panties be pulled to the side.

Great. Now he knows you’re a wet mess. Just fucking great.

“You really have some nerve,” you scoff, though there’s hardly any bite to your words.

You feel his large hands spread your cheeks apart, and a gasp leaves you when you feel his tongue dart out to swipe along the crack of your ass.

“Oh, absolutely, know I do,” he murmurs, planting a kiss on your ass cheek. “The nerve I have.”

He dips his head a bit lower, and you’re honestly left stunned as he licks your pussy from behind. He moans into your cunt, bringing his fingers up to swipe along your sopping slit.

And when you glance over your shoulder, you see him suck his two fingers into his mouth. Your eyes widen in genuine surprise, and a huff of laughter leaves your lips.

“Don’t give me that look, baby,” he preens, giving your ass cheek another open-mouthed kiss before he spins you around. He then taps your thigh. “Lift.”

And you do just that, raising your thigh as he lifts you up onto the bathroom counter from his kneeling position on the floor. He drapes your thighs over his shoulders, pressing a kiss to your sensitive skin as he does so.

“You know, your mouth says the most horrible things to me, but your pussy seems to say the exact opposite,” he muses, licking his lips as he gazes up at you. “Always so pretty and wet for me. You sure you don’t want to apologi—”

“Nope,” you’re quick to say, sliding your fingers through his white hair as you push his face into your pussy. “Yeah, just shut up. Perfect.”

His words are swallowed up by your heat, but he doesn’t mind it, not one bit. He closes his eyes as he greedily laps at your cunt, tasting the sweetness that he’s missed far too much. It was so sweet, just like you usually were towards him, but it seems like he’ll have to fuck this attitude out of you before he can see that side of you again.

He doesn’t mind that. More of your smart mouth, more of your pussy… win-win.

By the time he opens his eyes to look up at you again, you can already tell that he’s drunk on you.

“God, you’re so easy, it’s disgusting,” you say through a whine as his tongue curls up and down, stimulating that beautiful pearl between your legs.

Sylus chuckles at that, but he doesn’t let up. His tongue begins to fuck into you now, a groan leaving his mouth as he watches you writhe above him. He’s never seen you look any more beautiful.

(The only exception to that was your wedding day, of course. He wept like a baby at the sight of you.)

He sucks harshly into your clit before he releases it with a pop. “I love it when you’re mean to me, baby. Makes me want to fuck you so nice, wipe that smug smile right off your face.”

It was true. His cock was rock solid in the confines of his shorts, and even if he wasn’t eating you out like a madman, he’s sure your words would have led to the same fate. He loved it when you dished it back to him because you were just so sexy when you were angry.

You’re quick to shut him up, pushing his face back into your heat, but this time, you’re fucking yourself on his tongue. He doesn’t mind it at all. If anything, he prefers it, because whatever his wife needs, she gets.

“Yeah,” you pant, your head leaning back against the mirror. “Yeah, stop fucking talking.”

Sylus grins against your heat as you make a mess of him—his nose, his mouth, his chin—everything. But he doesn’t give a damn.

He slurps up your slick, drinking it as if he were stranded in the middle of a blazing desert and your pussy was his only means of survival. Though if he were to be honest, he’d just ask you to sit on his face and suffocate him with this sweet cunt of yours if he ever found himself in that dire of a position.

(He’s already made up his mind—that’s how he wants to go out.)

Soon enough, he grasps firmly onto your hips, preventing you from grinding against his tongue.

“Now you’re just being greedy,” he says through a breathless smile, licking his lips. “Wearing your wedding ring, parading around in this beautifully slutty costume of yours, giving your attention to other men. What has gotten into you?”

You whine as he pulls his mouth away from your cunt, but his words give you a much better idea. Your hand is quick to replace his tongue, stimulating your clit while he watches with starry eyes. “Dunno. You can get inside of me right now, though.”

He huffs. “Playing with this pretty pussy right in front of my face? Have some class.”

You can’t help but chuckle out loud, and he smiles at the sound of your laughter but also at the view of your fingers circling that swollen clit of yours.

“You can talk to me about class when you aren’t kneeling in front of your ex-wife’s pussy like a puppy begging for a treat,” you joke.

Sylus hums at that, spitting onto your cunt to give you a bit more lubricant as you play with yourself. Slowly, he rises to his feet.

“I don’t have to beg for this pussy, baby,” he tells you, “It’s mine, after all.”

“Mm, whatever. Me next.”

And when his eyes meet yours, a wicked grin stretches across his face. You stare at him with your mouth open, you tongue lolled out between your lips, begging for him to spit in your mouth.

“You’re filthy,” he rasps, grasping onto your jaw to tilt your head at the perfect angle before he spits into your mouth, watching with hazy eyes as you swallow it. “Absolutely nasty. You’re so beautiful, sweetie.”

His degrading and his praise are a dangerous mixture for you, but you’re loving every second of it. This reminds you of the good times you two shared, and you feel a surge of nostalgia wash over you.

Sylus taps the sides of your thighs, and you wrap them around his waist without question. He lifts you up from the bathroom counter, pressing you against the wall to allow himself better access to you.

His lips find your neck, and a string of mewls and sighs leave your lips as he works to free himself from the confines of his shorts. And when you feel the tip of his cock smear pre-cum along your slit, you honestly feel like you’re really in for it now.

Your smart tongue has gotten you here, and you aren’t sure if you should thank it or curse it. But when you feel the tip of his thick cock begin to prod your entrance, your answer is made clear.

You claw at his back through his shirt, a sharp gasp leaving your lips. “Sylus, wait— I… go slow please,” you stammer out.

It has been awhile, and you weren’t exactly used to his size anymore. He gives you a nod of understanding, his eyes softening as he looks at you.

“Of course, baby, I hear you,” he whispers, his voice suddenly much gentler. He hooks an arm beneath you as a means of holding you up while his other hand tucks your hair behind your ear. “We don’t have to do this, honey. I don’t want to see you in pain.”

You shake your head, leaning in to press a kiss on his lips. “No, no… I want to. Just… slowly please.”

Sylus nods his head, pressing a sweet peck on your cheek as he slowly begins to push his cock deeper inside of you, keeping his eyes on your face to read your expression.

“I’m okay,” you say, answering the question that you know is swirling in his head right now.

He was a stretch, but it wasn’t too bad. And now as he slowly begins to build up a pace of thrusting inside of you, you’re feeling pleasure above anything.

He leans in to press another sweet kiss on your lips before he quickly returns to being the same asshole he was before, his smirk returning as he fucks you against the wall.

“You’re awfully bratty for someone who can hardly take my cock,” he purrs, trailing his lips along your jawline as he thrusts himself even harder inside of you.

The sound of slapping skin and your shared breathy moans engulf the room, and it’s the most lewd and beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.

“I can take it, you asshole,” you grumble, tugging on his hair as his length reaches a particular sensitive point of your walls.

He chuckles against your neck, drawing his tongue out to taste your skin. “Mm, I know, baby. You take it so nicely. Just giving you a hard time.”

You sigh, leaning your head back against the wall, only for one of his large hands to cup the back of your head. You thought it was sweet how he was bracing you from the impact of how hard he was slamming your body against the wall with each thrust.

You mewl as you feel the heat in your belly pooling, your glassy eyes staring at the reflection of you two in the mirror, watching with blown eyes as he fucks you into oblivion.

He buries his length into you, keeping you pressed against the wall that way while your leg lock around his hips keeps you stable. He grasps onto your left hand, pressing a kiss on your ring.

“Do me a favor, baby,” he whispers, brushing his thumb over the jewelry. “Never take this off again.”

And within seconds, you’re nodding. “I won’t.”

Sylus chuckles, leaning in to press a kiss on your cheek as he begins to thrust inside of you again. “Who’s the easy one now, sweetie?”

This wasn’t how you expected your Halloween night to go, being fucked by your ex-husband in the bathroom of a party.

Well… this is what you get for being so sexy, you figure.

note. i was too lazy to think of some more banter between sylus and reader so i decided to give y’all the traditional ‘fade to black’… in the most untraditional sense. anyway!!! i tried something new with this and i’m not sure if it’s working for not so pls interact if you enjoyed! ik it was kinda nasty at some parts but hey… i had to do it to em. :3 TY FOR READING!!!

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[wireddless]

Addict

pairing: Coriolanus Snow/Reader

cw: 17+ hate. fucking. dubcon, possessive behavior, corio is emotionally abusive, vaguely implied Plinth reader, p in v, unprotected sex, nsfw below the cut,

word count: 2.3k

a/n: i just know hes so hung you guys i want him so bad

Living in the shadow of Lucy Gray was never an easy feat. That’s all she was after the erasure; a shadow, soon to be only a whisper on the sleeping breath of Coriolanus. The closest he could ever feel to real love was with the District 12 songbird, and had she been more than just a district animal, a member of the Capitol, there was no doubt in your mind he would have married her instead.

Your days at the academy, a few years his inferior, were spent in the naive mindset that he was fully capable of love. However, the only true love he would ever feel was towards the power in his cold-handed grasp. After your graduation, you continued living with your family, their prized figurehead of poise and beauty, until they managed to propose your hand to him, only a year or so before he became president.

Coriolanus, living on top of his family’s hidden debt and poverty, accepted nearly immediately, driven by the thought of the millions that came with your name. Your family, so charmed by the icy man, was manipulated into paying for the lavish ceremony. A Capitol wedding was a spectacle to behold, a sea of colored heads and garments, textiles in unique patterns decorating the spectators in a myriad of colors. An insipid eye-sore, in his opinion.

And there you were, the pale lavender of your dress cascading down your body like the drapes that covered a window in a lonely mansion, baby fat gone. The bright light in your eyes that has now long-since faded, the happy expression you held, truly believing the facade he had put on to convince your family that he was a perfect match, it all fueled a fire of satisfaction in his psyche. He remembered the young girl from their studious days, the sneaky glances shot his way from a face framed by baby fat, it was so easy to take advantage of a schoolgirl crush, to charm his way right into your heart. He’d never go hungry again, and he could finally focus solely on his rise to power.

Or so he thought. When you managed to pick his intentions apart and discovered the cunning and manipulative nature of the man, you became defiant, fucking petulant. Your once tender and loving gaze, seeking to nurture and care for him, hardened like the calcium deposits on the well pumps in the poorer districts of Panem. He heard in passing from the workers of the house about your violent fits of tears late at night. It wasn’t like he cared, hell, the idea of your reddened face damp with tears and snot amused him to no end. But fuck if it didn’t annoy him when Tigris became your closest friend and confidant.

Coriolanus kept you locked away in the golden cage of his home, not permitting the men of his staff to go near you, forcing you to discuss with him the simplest task of visiting your own family. You were still the key to his now inherited wealth, a prize that he had won with cunning and malicious tactics, and the thought of you straying into the arms of another man, who could take you, who could take even a bit of the control he held, it infuriated him to no end.

It took almost a year for you to realize that without your family, he was completely broke, and it took almost two to realize he never once held even a glimmer of fondness towards you, that he was using you. Tigris, who had spoken to you during her regular visits, had become the arms you fell into when the agony of your situation first befell you. Her hands wrapped around your body as she shushed and hummed quietly were a solace to you as the pain dawned on you. Three years after your marriage, you would speak in hushed tones over cooling tea, not bothering to hide your glare when Coriolanus bothered joining. He was no longer the subject matter of your conversations with Tigris, instead discussing gossip that had spread through the yammering mouths of Capitol citizens, and the newest trends to pass around them. She had become your dearest friend, one he couldn’t find a valid reason to hide you from. Though he never would admit while his heart was still beating, despite your shared animosity, you were still his favorite accessory.

The Reaping ceremonies for the next annual Hunger Games would begin soon, which became a sensitive topic between you and Coriolanus. It was no secret to you who Lucy Gray Baird had been, who she had been to him. What the hunger games meant to him. You resented her. Not for the place she held near his heart, but for managing to escape him before he had caged her.

The fire of your arguments was always sparked by her name, the tinder and fuel having already been prepared by the years of building resentment. Almost always in his office, your hands would shove him back as he rapidly approached you after you provoked him with harsh and unforgiving words, only fanning the flame of hatred he felt towards you. Then he would corner you, your back against the wall as one hand found your neck and the other found your hair, his fingernails digging at your scalp. His minty breath falling out of his mouth in heavy gasps as he fought the urge to kill you right there. You made him feel as though he was an animal from the districts, dirty and foaming at the mouth. And he hated that.

“You know I would never harm you.” He’d always reassure you when his grip on your throat finally loosened, his eyes taking in the way you would suck in air he had prevented from reaching your lungs. Coriolanus considered what little he allowed you, even the air you breathed, a favor. He thought himself generous, benevolent even. He wasn’t of course, and you were always quick to point that out.

Today's argument was only different in setting, within the walls of your shared bedroom rather than his office. You had shoved him, predictable, and turned to storm away, wanting to find a guest room to sleep in instead. But before you could reach the door, his hand had yanked you by your hair back towards him before nearly throwing you on the bed. When you sat up to scramble away, he shoved you back down by your shoulders and crawled on top of you, effectively pinning you to the mattress, an echo of your frequent taunts. It was rare that you two would actually be in such a position, as neither of you particularly craved intimacy with one-another, yet the way one hand slid up your negligee and gripped the curve of your thigh conveyed a much different message tonight.

“I just wish you’d shut up for once, you know that?” He growled. Coriolanus Snow was an aggressive lover. He put all his weight on his forearm strung across your chest to keep you pinned down as his fingers left their place on your thigh and slid up to the junction of your legs, cupping your heat rather aggressively before shoving them aside and sliding his fingers over your folds to find the sensitive and rather neglected bundle of nerves. You could hardly hide the shudder that overcame you as you responded.

“Fuck you!” You spat at him, writhing under his touch. Your head fell back on the luxurious sheets and you bit back a moan as he swirled his fingers in a circular motion over your clit, stirring the lust you had repressed to life. How he loved to see your eyes rolling back into your skull as you fought surrendering to his ministrations. The edges of his mouth lifted in a smug little smirk when your arousal became more evident, making your cunt slick and pliable.

Oh, how he adored to see his poor, neglected wife fall victim to her own human nature. It made him want to consume you whole, like you were a treat he got all to himself. Coriolanus’s mouth fell to your collarbone and his teeth scraped over the thin skin as he slipped his middle finger inside your sopping hole, earning an earnest mewl from your normally argumentative lips. He bit down rather hard at the junction of your neck and shoulder as he slowly, teasingly pumped his finger in and out. This would be easier than he thought.

He tilted his head back up to take in the sight of your demeanor flickering to something more vulnerable, before taking your mouth with his. He kissed you like you provided the air he needed to breathe, and you couldn’t help but reciprocate. You’d be a fool to say you didn’t still crave him after the years of strained marriage. His teeth clashed with yours as you both attempted to deepen the kiss. When he pushed another finger inside of you, hooking them and speeding up, your mouth fell open with a shaky moan, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth.

When your mother described to you what sex was like, she explained it like an intimate dance, where two souls would merge with love and passion. But it was never like that between the two of you. It was always a battle, aggressive and antagonistic as one of you sought to take something from the other. For Coriolanus, it was a display of his authority and control. His fingers quickened in pace and your hips bucked up into his hand, searching for more friction that would aid in your release. And he was benevolent wasn’t he? Who would he be to deny such a rare and primal pleasure? His fingers continued their attack on the spongy roof of your walls, pushing you closer and closer until your hand tore at the skin of his back with the intensity of your orgasm. Still seeing stars, he pulled his lips from yours and hovered them over your ear, his cheek brushing against yours, damp with tears.

“See how easy everything can be when you just stop resisting me at every turn?” You opened your mouth to respond, to bite back when the arm that pinned you down quickly shifted so his hand could cup over your mouth. He loved shutting you up. His silent voice hissed in your ear with a lingering promise. “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.”

So focused on his words and hot breath on your ear, you almost didn’t notice when he pulled his fingers from inside you to tug down your panties, discarding them somewhere behind him before fumbling with the breeches he slept in, the cold air of the room hitting his stiff cock. He brought that same hand up before him, spitting in it and spreading the wetness of his saliva over his hardened length. Barely giving you a second to process all that was happening, he pressed himself inside of you, his eyes squeezing shut and his brow furrowing as your tight, wet heat engulfed him entirely.

Having not been intimate with him in so long, it was like he was splitting you open, and you cried out with pleasure into his hand, your own lashes pressing together as you took his total length. Coriolanus didn’t remain still for long, and his hips soon began setting a bruising pace, his balls slapping against your ass as he fought the urge to moan himself, not wanting to appear any less in control than he was. Your muffled gasps spurred him on, practically driving him mad as he pummeled into you. The volume difference when he removed his hand from your mouth and forearm from your chest was quite noticeable, and his fingers wove into your hair once more, holding your head back against the bed as he swallowed your moans with his mouth.

The stinging pain of your nails in the skin of his back when they flung around him was dulled by the sheer thrill he felt taking you like this. The hand that coaxed your orgasm out of you found its way to your thigh again, pushing it up over your torso to rest on your shoulder, allowing him to thrust deeper inside of you as his fingers dug into the hot and tender skin. You nearly screamed into his mouth from the change in sensation as his hips came flush with yours over and over again. For a brief moment, he pulled away from the kiss to bite and suck at the skin of your neck, letting you sing out unmuted by his hand, as he imagined his songbird would so many years ago.

Coriolanus hated you. He hated almost everything about you. He resented you the way you resented him, but he was still addicted to you. Addicted to the control you allowed him as he fucked you stupid, to the way your pitful moans were brought about by him, to the dumb fucking look on your face as your body managed to make his hips stutter and falter as he came inside you with a low moan. He didn’t care about pulling out. You were his wife, a state figurehead, it was part of the job description to give birth to his children. Maybe getting you pregnant would even do him the favor of shutting you up. He didn’t bother helping you clean up as you readjusted your nightgown, instead opting to wipe the sweat from his brow and tuck himself back in the satin pants he intended on sleeping in.

Coriolanus Snow was not capable of real love. All those close enough to him were well-aware of that fact, including you. But when he crawled into the bed and pulled you, still breathless and trembling, up next to him, when he tucked your head into his chest in a possessive manner, your hands pressed against his heated chest, when he fell asleep holding you like you’d run away too, you momentarily convinced yourself he might have been able to love.

[ozzgin]

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

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

Best wishes

-🌟

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

Yandere!Bodyguard x Idol!Reader (I)

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

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

TW: violence

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

"Fantastic show tonight!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I suppose so. Is that an issue?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Should we leave?"

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

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

He grins at your last statement.

"Of course. Is the sofa okay?"

You nod.

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

Is this what they call a scary dog privilege? 

[heyysteven]

I love, I love, I love

Summary: Some Husband!salesman headcannons

Warnings: Brief mentions of death and Fluff :))

Husband!salesman who just loves to be the little spoon, he absolutely loves the feeling of resting his head on your chest as you caress his hair talking about the details of your day. He didn't mind being the big spoon either. He just loves any reason to be wrapped around you really.

Husband!salesman who could hear you talk for the rest of his hours. Tell him about the book you just finished reading, tell him about the new recipe you wanted to try, tell him about new gossip at work. He would listen patiently and ask questions wherever he got confused.

Husband!salesman who texted you every two hours. Did you reach your office safely? I’m eating the sandwich you packed! Did you have your lunch? Any updates on the new gossip? Will reach home in twenty minutes;)) Do you want anything from the grocery store? Got you donuts just in case.

Husband!salesman who would take pictures of every sunset, every animal, every flower and send them to you because they reminded him of you and how you would have taken pictures if you were with him.

Husband!salesman who would buy you a huge bouquet of flowers before every date night, conveying different messages using the language of flowers. Last time he got home one full of red tulips and sunflowers (because his passion for you ran murderously deep silly!).

Husband!salesman who planned every date night down to the minute. He would book the reservations for that cuisine you once mentioned you wanted to try. He would whistle as soon as you step out the room in your evening dress, twirl you by your hand and ask for the n’th time how he got so lucky (would definitely be disappointed if you wore something without back zips). He would always be the perfect gentleman for you; right from driving you, opening the doors, pulling your chairs, all you had to do was shut your brain and enjoy the evening.

Husband!salesman who always tried matching his tie to the color of your dress.

Husband!salesman who loved holding hands more than life itself. He would love feeling the cold metal of your wedding ring every time you locked your fingers. He would walk around with the most proud smile ever on his face, softly swinging your intertwined fingers with each step.

Husband!salesman who could never say no to you. He was born with a lot of impressive abilities and strategic skills. Murdering someone with a fork? Easy! Selling people the idea of getting rich by playing a bunch of game? A piece of cake! Saying no to his wife? What is that? Shouldn’t it be punishable by law?

Husband!salesman who couldn’t cook to save his life. He somehow ended up burning everything he put on stove, so he just stuck to cleaning instead. It was a silent agreement, you would make the breakfast and dinners and he would wash and dust while you cooked. On days he ran late, he loved being welcomed by the aroma of the dish you were making. It made him feel like that this was the reason he was alive.

Husband!salesman who still got flustered when you kiss his cheek. It had quickly become your power move. On the rare occasion where you disagreed upon something, you would simply kiss his cheek and watch him fumble with his words. It was the most adorable thing ever.

Husband!salesman who would kiss and bite your neck every chance he got. He loved the fact that he could attack your neck any time he wanted.

Husband!salesman who loved when you asked him to pick you up after work. He waited for the moment you would come running and jump to hug him tight.

Husband!salesman who always noticed every single detail. Like the time he caught a man making you uncomfortable while walking. He did exactly what the man deserved; beat him till his teeth were bloody and carved his fingers out from their socket,  for ever daring to make his wife feel unsafe.

Husband!salesman who got jealous easily. He didn’t ask for much, he just wanted every single person with conspicuous intentions towards you to just get hit by a truck on the highway (with him driving the truck preferably).

Husband!salesman who always made sure to support your hobbies! Even if you abandon them after two weeks, he’s proud of you for trying.

Husband!salesman who hated your plushies and teddy bears. He hated how much distance they created between you while sleeping. He would just throw them to the floor when you weren’t looking.

Husband!salesman who doesn’t like getting his shirt bloody because “My wife chose that for me, its rude of you to bleed on my clothes.”

Husband!salesman who says I love you like it’s the air he needs for breathing. He would find every reason to squeeze your hands thrice.

[scealaiscoite]

.☽༊˚ three word prompts

¹⁾ “it’s getting late”

²⁾ “you look terrible.”

³⁾ “who did this?!”

⁴⁾ “i feel awful.”

⁵⁾ “they’re all lying.”

⁶⁾ “let me help.”

⁷⁾ “try to eat.”

⁸⁾ “i’m so tired.”

⁹⁾ “just tell me!”

¹⁰⁾ “it’s for you.”

¹¹⁾ “i tried calling.”

¹²⁾ “this is fucked.”

¹³⁾ “here- try this!”

¹⁴⁾ “you’re a nightmare.”

¹⁵⁾ “can’t sleep either?”

¹⁶⁾ “you never answer!”

¹⁷⁾ “…that’s my shirt.”

¹⁸⁾ “i’m running late.”

¹⁹⁾ “here’s my number.”

²⁰⁾ “you look amazing.”

²¹⁾ “it’s work, again.”

²²⁾ “not here, please.”

²³⁾ “please, don’t cry.”

²⁴⁾ “it’s all over.”

²⁵⁾ “you’re safe now.”

²⁶⁾ “come to bed.”

²⁷⁾ “let me help.”

²⁸⁾ “fancy a drink?”

²⁹⁾ “i didn’t! swear!”

³⁰⁾ “oh, fuck me.”

³¹⁾ “no-one’ll hurt you.”

³²⁾ “it’s pouring out!”

³³⁾ “take my coat.”

³⁴⁾ “come here, idiot.”

³⁶⁾ “are you alright?”

³⁷⁾ “c’mon- try this.”

³⁸⁾ “what’s the time?”

³⁹⁾ “my back’s sore.”

⁴⁰⁾ “lean on me.”

⁴¹⁾ “take a picture!”

⁴²⁾ “please, let go.”

⁴³⁾ “how’d you remember?”

⁴⁴⁾ “that’s not fair.”

⁴⁵⁾ “got my flowers?”

⁴⁶⁾ “it’s so cold.”

⁴⁷⁾ “take my bed.”

⁴⁸⁾ “do you care?”

⁴⁹⁾ “where’re you from?”

⁵⁰⁾ “you look exhausted.”

⁵¹⁾ “argh- you’re freezing!”

⁵²⁾ “it’s not safe!”

⁵³⁾ “don’t go there.”

⁵⁴⁾ “that tastes… different.”

⁵⁵⁾ “this shouldn’t hurt.”

⁵⁶⁾ “you’re so warm.”

⁵⁷⁾ “your hair’s soft.”

⁵⁸⁾ “where’d that happen?”

⁵⁹⁾ “…that’s not mine.”

⁶⁰⁾ “i never lied.”

⁶¹⁾ “is that mine?”

⁶²⁾ “the lock’s broken.”

⁶³⁾ “the path’s stopped.”

⁶⁴⁾ “… cake? seriously, now?!”

⁶⁵⁾ “another cold case?”

⁶⁶⁾ “i smell smoke.”

⁶⁷⁾ “pick a movie.”

⁶⁸⁾ “we just kissed.”

⁶⁹⁾ “peach lip gloss?”

⁷⁰⁾ “i missed you.”

⁷¹⁾ “your mascara’s ruined.”

⁷²⁾ “the trail’s cold.”

⁷³⁾ “i run hot.”

⁷⁴⁾ “take my hand!”

⁷⁵⁾ “vodka at midday?”

⁷⁶⁾ “you started it!”

⁷⁷⁾ “your cooking’s phenomenal.”

⁷⁸⁾ “the dog’s cuter.”

⁷⁹⁾ “there’s one bed.”

⁸⁰⁾ “it’s too hot.”

⁸¹⁾ “i’m too old.”

⁸²⁾ “it’s a mistake!”

⁸³⁾ “the motel’s closed.”

⁸⁴⁾ “my ring’s missing.”

⁸⁵⁾ “he isn’t answering.”

⁸⁶⁾ “oh. i’m sorry.”

⁸⁷⁾ “have you eaten?”

⁸⁸⁾ “ah- that’s enough.”

⁸⁹⁾ “what’s wrong now?”

⁹⁰⁾ “you’ve been crying.”

⁹¹⁾ “let me drive.”

⁹²⁾ “nice uniform, dickhead.”

⁹³⁾ “the ladder’s gone!”

⁹⁴⁾ “that’s gonna bruise.”

⁹⁵⁾ “fuck- you’re sick.”

⁹⁶⁾ “i made breakfast.”

⁹⁷⁾ “careful, it’s hot.”

⁹⁸⁾ “got a lighter?”

⁹⁹⁾ “just- why him?”

¹⁰⁰⁾ “you’re safe here.”

¹⁰¹⁾ “we’ve gotta leave.”

¹⁰²⁾ “there’s sand everywhere!”

¹⁰³⁾ “you fell asleep.”

¹⁰⁴⁾ “your birthday’s tomorrow.”

¹⁰⁵⁾ “you killed it!”

¹⁰⁶⁾ “…this is awkward.”

¹⁰⁷⁾ “you lost, sucker!”

¹⁰⁸⁾ “fuck- you’re bleeding.”

¹⁰⁹⁾ “wear that dress.”

¹¹⁰⁾ “sorry for that.”

¹¹¹⁾ “fucking shut up!”

¹¹²⁾ “my wallet’s missing.”

¹¹³⁾ “the electricity’s out.”

¹¹⁴⁾ “just my luck.”

¹¹⁵⁾ “you’re drunk, honey.”

¹¹⁶⁾ “call an ambulance!”

¹¹⁷⁾ “what’s that smell?”

¹¹⁸⁾ “shit, i’m hit.”

¹¹⁹⁾ “we’ve been made.”

¹²⁰⁾ “it’s so early.”

¹²¹⁾ “what’s wrong now?”

¹²²⁾ “let it go!”

¹²³⁾ “fix your makeup.”

¹²⁴⁾ “the damage’s done.”

¹²⁵⁾ “please, don’t tell.”

¹²⁶⁾ “i didn’t cheat!”

¹²⁷⁾ “how’s the hangover?”

¹²⁸⁾ “i’ll do better.”

¹²⁹⁾ “sh, i’ll pay.”

¹³⁰⁾ “i’m going home.”

¹³¹⁾ “the bath’s ready.”

¹³²⁾ “they loved you!”

¹³³⁾ “that’s your nickname?!”

¹³⁴⁾ “stay the night.”

¹³⁵⁾ “show me. now!”

¹³⁶⁾ “…a ball gag?!”

¹³⁷⁾ “that painting’s… unique.”

¹³⁸⁾ “christ, that’s strong.”

¹³⁹⁾ “my face hurts.”

¹⁴⁰⁾ “the basement flooded.”

¹⁴¹⁾ “your lipstick’s everywhere!”

¹⁴²⁾ “you’re a nutjob.”

¹⁴³⁾ “mind the glass!”

¹⁴⁴⁾ “go to sleep.”

¹⁴⁵⁾ “let me see.”

¹⁴⁶⁾ “it’s so late.”

¹⁴⁷⁾ “cute glasses, dork.”

¹⁴⁸⁾ “you want what?!”

¹⁴⁹⁾ “this is mental.”

¹⁵⁰⁾ “it’s a wedding!”

[gayasswitchbitch]

Here is a little funny idea? How would the monster trio (also Ace or Usopp or Sabo or Law) react to their girlfriend jokingly say “you’re definitely wearing that for our wedding” (or something like that) if she saw them wearing a fancy suit (or whatever?)😅

Whew okay this was HARD and only because I love Ace so much and I wanted to perfect his part and it stressed me tf out. Anyways I hope you enjoy!

One piece- How they react when you say “You should wear that to our wedding”

Warnings: a little suggestive on Zoro and Usopp. Aces has his insecure angsty thoughts.

Charcters- Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Usopp, Law, Sabo, and Ace

Luffy- “wedding? What are you talking about?” He looks puzzled. We can’t get married yet! I have to be king of the of the pirates first dummy!”

It’s definitely second on his list. Once he’s titled king the next thing to do is make you his wife obviously (and queen of the pirates)

In a way it’s celebratory of this new chapter in his life. A new title, a new job, new way of life and a new step in your relationship all at once sounds like a good idea to him.

Zoro- “wedding? What are you talking about you crazy woman?”

“Excuse me! It was a simple joke! All I was really saying is that you look amazing but now I take it back since you want to be an ass!” You retort. You did mean it, the idea of seeing him at the altar with that tight black suit was clouding your mind, but now that he was rude about it you don’t want to give him the satisfaction!

“An ass? You’re the one throwing that shit on me out of nowhere! Who says that so casually anyway!?” You hadn’t noticed before.. but maybe the reason Zoro became so flustered has something to do with how red his face his. ‘Is he.. no he can’t be’ you think.

“Zoro.. are you blushing?”

“OF COURSE IM NOT!”

“Zoro you’re blushing! At the thought of marrying me? Oh, who knew you could be such a little sap!”

“Shut up! You’re lucky I tolerate you at all!” He yells back. He’s trying his best to seem uncaring, cool, and calm but it’s not working. Secretly, or really not as secretly as he would like, the idea of seeing you in a pretty dress and then taking you home after to start the honeymoon makes his body hot. He thinks arguing with you will make him forget about it.. but he also forgets he kind of likes it when you fight with him ;)

Sanji- This man melts to the damn floor. He’s both in shock and utter euphoria. He’s a little puddle on the ground, holding onto your ankles, mumbling about “I can’t believe im so lucky, so loved, this is the best day of my life” but in a second he’s back to his feet, shoving his face so close to yours his chin hairs are tickling you. “My love, tell me you’re joking I can’t handle this.”

Once you explain that you do in fact want to marry him someday he starts bawling. “Okay then we need to start planning now. I assume you’ll be wearing white, I’ll wear white too of course. We need to pick the flowers. Roses are always a good choice they’re a symbol of love but so overdone maybe we should do lilies.. oh but-“

“Sanji!” You yell. “I said SOMEDAY not immediately right now! And how are you speaking so fast while sobbing you need to sit down!”

But he doesn’t. Now that you said it it’s all he can think about and will not stop planning and talking about it and driving you crazy until the day you’re at that fucking altar and you better believe he’s making it the most beautiful and spectacular wedding you ever saw.

Usopp- Usopp goes red. A red you’ve never even seen before he’s so flustered. “W-wedding? Like- marriage? Like-you marrying me?” You tilt your head to the side a little confused and bemused at the same time.

“Well, Honey… we have been together for a long time.. I assumed we would get married one day. And again, when we do you HAVE to wear that.” You walked up to the shivering man and lock your arms around his neck. “Maybe not for too long though.. seeing how it looks.. I might not be able to stop myself from-“

“OKAY Y/N! That’s enough for now! I can’t handle any more of your flirting!”

You would think he’d be used to it by now 🤷‍♀️

Sabo- “Oh? How forward of you y/n” he smirks. He’s looking deep into your eyes, the most adoring look on his face. “Am I to presume this is your way of proposing? I mean I wanted to be the one to do it, but how can I resist when my beautiful girl is the one doing it? I guess I’ll have to give you this so you can do it right.” Sabo digs in his pockets for a moment before pulling out a small square box. He’s a smart man. He knew a long time ago that he was going to marry you. He was just waiting for the right time to ask.

Law- Man CHOKES on air for a second and has to fight for his life to regain composure.

Of course you would think of marriage. That’s a very normal sequence of a relationship. You meet, become friends, date, and then.. well he honestly hadn’t considered it. Law liked how things were. He didn’t see a reason to change it. Law liked staying up late to wait for your knock on the office door, you peeking your head in and asking if he’s busy. Of course he was busy, he was always busy, but he liked when you would intrude, when you’d ask how his studying was going and he really liked when you would push the book away and slide into his lap to spend the rest of the night kissing him all over.

Remembering all these nights brings a smile to his face. He knew he’d be an idiot to let that go. Maybe having those nights for the rest of his life wouldn’t be horrible.

Ace- After hearing those words from your mouth Ace freezes in place and for the first time in his life, Ace is praying to gods he didn’t believe in and begging them to keep you close to him for as long as possible.

When Ace first asked you to be his girlfriend he had a hard time believing that you said yes. It was like he was dreaming and has been dreaming ever since. The thought of you wanting more, a marriage, is unfathomable to him at first.

It would be a lie to say he’s never thought about it, but the times he has only broke his heart. “Don’t kid yourself” he’d think. “There’s no way she’ll stay with me that long. It’s only a matter of time before she realizes I don’t deserve her. That I’m not worthy of her love. That there has to be someone better for her out there.”

Overall what mattered to Ace most is that you’re happy. “No matter how little, any time would be enough with her” he often thought to himself. At least he got to touch you, kiss you, make you smile. He cherishes every second as much as he can. Anytime you throw your head back in laughter, anytime you kissed him, anytime you said “I love you.” he knew these would be the moments he would look back on when he thought of you. On those days where he’s missing you a little more and you’re long gone with the actual love of your life.

So for you to bring up marrying him so casually sent his brain into overdrive. It would take Ace a few minutes to realize you had actually said that, and that he wasn’t hallucinating. It’s truly hard for him to comprehend that you love him so much. He would ask if you were joking at least five times before it really settled in. Once it did he would be elated, jumping around like a little kid, his mouth moving a mile a minute going on about how much he loves you and planting kisses on every seeable inch of skin.

Ace finally stops jumping around like an excited puppy to pull you in closer. He reaches his warm, strong arms around you and pulls you in closer. With a final kiss on your cheek, Ace rests his head on your shoulder.

“You’d marry me?” He’d ask looking up with a goofy grin.

“Ace.. we’ve been dating for forever and I love you.. why wouldn’t I want to marry you someday?”

That was all Ace needed. He’s running to the nearest town to sell everything on his body if he needs to. He doesn’t care the cost, he needs a ring and needs it now. Ace now has to propose as soon as possible.

Now that he knows you’d actually marry him he’s locking you down before you get the chance to rethink…not that you ever would.

[blackynsupremacy]

SO INTO YOU

pairing: older!smallville!clark kent x black!fem!reader

fandom: smallville (2001-2011)

summary: you and clark forget about the world as you indulge in each other on your honeymoon.

contains: 18+ content (mdni), smut, fluff, established relationship, reader and clark are newlyweds, l bombs, romance, oral (f receiving), praise kink, slight size kink, vanilla, missionary, implied unprotected lovemaking, squirting, i love welling clark but reader can imagine any clark they like!

taglist: @greengoblinswifey @thabiddie23 @miguelspvssy @hopefully-saturn @jkr820 @hoffmansgirl @austeenbootler @niteskysx @sabrinasopposite @thabiddie23 @hnch33rios @xoxoglittergossip @supaprettyg @afrogirl3005 @afrowrites @motherismotheringggg @oscarisaackissmykitty @simply-lovley44 @elitesanjisimp @gxuxhdjdu @venic-bxtch @stargirl-mayaa @ellethespaceunicorn

a/n: i swear imma get in requests! whenever i’m on pinterest i get a blurb i gotta write before i forget.

“hah, finally.”

clark kent sighed in content. your soft giggles were music to his ears as he carefully stepped over the threshold while holding you like precious cargo into the luxury italian suite that was graciously gifted to you both by lex luthor for your nuptials. the happiness you were both feeling was beyond words as you were just officially pronounced as husband and wife before your loved ones within the metropolis chapel. after a few hours of dancing and merriment at the reception, you and clark flew off to start your happily ever after in the beautiful city of venice. he smoothly kicked the door closed with one foot, never taking his eyes off of you when he placed you down to the stand on the ground. it was around seven in the evening when you landed, making the dim lit glow of the ivory and gold decor in the suite irresistible to pull your eyes from. you definitely weren’t in smallville, kansas anymore. you take clark’s hand within yours, slightly dragging him to peruse the area. you saw lex like a fairy godmother of sorts as he had exquisite tastes and boy, did it feel like you stepped in a fairy tale.

“oh, clark. can you believe this is ours? this is just—beautiful.” you confessed in pure awe. clark silently agreed, his blue eyes darting briefly around the room, but they can’t help to gravitate towards your figure. your ivory white corset dress that beautifully contrasted the melanated shade of your skin fit your body so perfectly that clark couldn’t wait another moment to remove the garment. he deliberately sauntered towards you, his large hands take ahold of your waist to press you closer to him. given his tall six foot stature, he leans down, so that his rose lips could press a kiss to the soft skin of your earlobe.

“that’s true, but it doesn’t compare to the beauty of my wife.” he whispered in a low voice and gripped tight tighter to your waist. clark felt a rush of joy course through his veins when he mentioned your new title. he couldn’t have been luckier to be with you in this moment. with the exception of a green rock, you were his true weakness. a sigh of his name escapes from your lips when his meet the warm, brown skin of your jawline to leave a trail of kisses against the bone before they descend to your neck. each kiss causes your skin to be ridden with goosebumps. he pulls his lips away momentarily and one of his large hands ascend from your waist, trailing smoothly over your chest for his palm to lay flat against your neck. the cold medal of his wedding band on your skin increases your excitement as clark pushes your neck backwards slowly for your head to lean. his face comes closer to yours for both of your lips to finally lock within each other. as they move in sync, you hold yourself together by bringing your hands up behind you, tangling your fingers in the plush, dark jungle of his hair. without breaking your lips from his, he swiftly turns you around and picks you up within his arms again, so that he could properly locate you to the master bedroom. clark lays your body down on cream, satin duvet where he temporarily pulls his mouth away from yours to just silently take in every part of what’s before him.

ever since your adolescence, you’d always held a deep respect for each other. as time passed, that respect slowly turned to admiration, transforming into the deep, true love you found in each other to this day. clark couldn’t count on his fingers the time that you’ve been there for him at his lowest. you never turned away from him when he revealed his powers or the time that he ran away from home. it had always been—you. the mere thought of you makes him almost grateful that he crashed down to earth on that fateful day in the fall of eighty-nine. you’d notice that clark had been silent for far too long, you’ve always been used to his lingering, blue eyes, but now you were starting to feel awkward as the desire for your new husband grew hungrier with each passing second,

“clark, baby, are you okay?” you softly inquire, your hands cupping the sides of his jaw as your fingers glide along his sculpted, blushing face. you beam with a small smile, you knew now that the feeling was indeed mutual.

“i don’t know if you know this, but i love what you do to me.” he pauses to press your lips in a searing kiss to pull away and resume speaking, “i love you—all of you.” you whine, pulling him down to take his lips to yours again, this time you let your tongue intrude into his mouth in which he graciously accepts by sensually intertwining the two together. you moan, bucking your hips into his direction, letting him know that your patience was running thin. you take your lips away from his, pushing any disheveled hair from his forehead to clearly peer into his eyes.

“i need you, clark—make love to me, please.” clark observed as you squirm, propping your legs up on each side of his hips, your thighs spread wider to signify of you both taking your relationship to a whole new level. clark’s breath hitched at your words, the urgency in your voice igniting a fire within him. he responded by leaning down and capturing your lips in another slow, passionate kiss that sent shivers down your spine. as he deepened the kiss, his hands roamed your body, exploring every curve and contour. he doesn’t forget sneak his hands down to your ass to reward it with a tight squeeze. the more he touched, the more you felt the white lacy underwear you had on seep in your arousal. you melted into him, feeling the strength of his muscles beneath your fingertips as you traced the outline of his shoulders beneath the fabric of the pristine button up, where your fingers succeed in their search to find and unravel each button.

“are you ready?” he murmured against your lips, his voice a mix of tenderness, hunger, and longing. “because once i start, i don’t think i’ll want to stop.” his blue eyes searched yours, wanting to ensure that this was what you truly wanted, but god, he’s practically waited years for this moment to come. your body was practically screaming “hell yes!”, but being the gentleman that jonathan and martha raised, your consent mattered, whether you’re his wife or not.

you nodded, your heart racing with anticipation, knowing that he can hear it clearly. “yes, clark, that’s the point—i don’t want you to stop. give it to me, baby.” you hastily replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

“whatever you want—mrs. kent.” you bite your lip as your new name rolls off of his tongue so smoothly. he sits up to finish the job of unbuttoning his shirt before shrugging it off his shoulders to reveal the beautifully sculpted body that you swear gets more muscular. those long days of farm work over the years had seriously worked in his favor. clark sits you up, so that he could finally unzip your dress. you allow him to swiftly pull it away from your body before you take turns to discard the rest of your clothing until you’re completely bare before each other. clark is instantly mesmerized by your true form and he lays you back down again on the bed, his eyes never ceasing to inspect of what he thought was the most beautiful body in the entire galaxy.

“you are—breathtaking.” he proclaimed, the heat of embarrassment rises on your face. clark’s large body loomed over yours and he shifted his weight, at last positioning himself between your legs. you could feel the heat of your dripping arousal intensify at the sight of him, and it made your heart race even faster. he marveled at you as one of his hands palmed against one of your breasts. you moan out his name, encouraging him to go further with his touch. he took his time, savoring every moment as he ghosted his mouth around the other, trailing soft kisses along your dark erected nipple before enclosing it in his warm mouth. the kryptonian hummed against the skin to create a sensual vibration, igniting every nerve in your body. he didn’t forget to alternate between the two to give them equal attention.

“mmm—clark, baby, that’s so good, but i need more.” you request, bucking up your hips. clark chuckled at your impatience, he knew exactly what you needed. he wanted this to be a perfect experience for you, but he still wanted to tease you just a little.

“where do you need me, sweetheart?” he questioned before trailing kisses along your stomach. clark’s dick grew larger when he heard you whining. “c’mon, beautiful. use your words.” he went just a little lower to your navel, swirling his tongue around the perimeter of your belly button. despite the electricity he was sending through your body, you managed to articulate your need,

“clark…” you breathed, the sound laced with desire. “need your mouth—ngh, on my pussy.”

he looked up at you, a playful glint in his eyes. “you deserve nothing less.” he said, his voice low and husky. as his head moved lower, he spread your thighs wider, spreading kisses within that area. he even lapped up a bit of overflowing arousal that stuck to your skin. clark was about to go crazy knowing that you were this wet for him and him only. he had finally reached to where you needed him, your scent of your desire drives him to cop a taste by dragging tongue in a deliver lick along your entrance to which you whimper in approval. clark immediately gets to work by swirling his tongue on your sensitive pleasure point like its a delectable piece of candy. you arch your back off the bed and your hands promptly find their way to grip onto his hair for leverage as his tongue starts to prod at your wet hole. the pad of his thumb takes care of your clit while his tongue explores deep into your pussy.

“oh, s-shit, clark. just like that, baby.” you want to clench your legs around his head to bring him closer, but he uses the strength of his elbows to keep your thighs separated, so that you could get all of what he was working with without you running away. you practically clench around his tongue, encouraging him to taste every single inch of you until you completely unravel beneath him. he brings his tongue back around your clit, giving the sloppiest of licks as if he were indulging in a melting ice cream cone, attempting to catch every drop. he drives you mad as you were still firmly planted on the bed, thighs wide open when you observe his head shaking side to side to bury himself deeper. with the little strength you have, you attempt to grind your hips. your thighs are trembling when you feel that ball of fire inside of you ready to erupt at any minute. the final straw when he takes your clit between his lips to firmly suckle on it.

“clark, m’gonna cum!”

at hearing your words, one of his hands grasps to yours, tightly intertwining your fingers.

“let go. cum for me, pretty girl. i got you.”

the movements of his tongue become more relentless as the other hand rapidly rubs on your nub to finally get you to the first of many highs for the evening. you cry out his name, arching your back and rocking your hips as you gush your liquids onto clark’s heavenly face.

“atta girl. you did so good.” he hums in appreciation by lapping up every single drop, never getting tired of the taste. he slides up to plant your lips on yours, slipping his tongue in so smoothly, so that you could enjoy the taste of yourself as he did previously. he takes your legs to wrap themselves around his waist before using his arms to prop himself up above you. as he finally aligned himself at your entrance, you gaze down and gasped at his impressive girth. he was well endowed as this wasn’t just some regular earth dick. clark paused, his gaze locked onto yours, ensuring that you were ready for this next step.

“i hope you’re ready, sweetheart. i’ll be gentle, but just let me know if it’s too much, okay? i love you.”

you nod, placing one last searing kiss to his lips.

“i trust you, clark. i love you so much more.” you say with sincerity, now gazing down again as he began to finally put your bodies together like two long lost puzzle pieces awaiting to complete the final picture.

you both shudder and sigh out in ecstasy once the tip was inside. you were made for each other. as he filled you up inch by inch, the world around you simply disappeared only leaving the rhythm of your breaths and the sound of your bodies moving in sync. every movement was a dance and every lewd vocalization was a song of celebration of your everlasting love. as husband and wife, you lost yourselves in the moment, surrendering to the bliss that enveloped you both for the rest of the night.

[whytheylosttheirminds]

I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron (Chapter 3)

Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?

Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.

Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!

⯎series masterlist⯎

“I like the lilac, but I just wonder if the lavender would’ve gone better with your complexion,” your mom said as she eyed you critically. You were standing on a pedestal in the middle of Sally’s Dress Shop, trying on the bridesmaids dress your mom had picked out for you to wear to her wedding. The dress was far too frilly and pastel for your taste, but if wearing it would please your mom and make this week move faster, it was worth it.

“I think this is fine, mom,” you were trying your hardest to keep your tone polite, determined to keep this outing from turning into a fight. After all, it was your mom’s wedding week, and despite all of the history between you, you really did want her to be happy. 

By the time you had returned to the table last night, your mom had already paid the bill. The three of you drove home in silence, your mom giving you her patented silent treatment. This morning when you came downstairs dressed and ready for your fitting, she simply started talking about the flower arrangements for the reception, like the night before had never happened.

“I think you chose well,” you said before your mom could change her mind on the dress again. You’re lying through your teeth, you think this dress might be one of the worst choices she's ever made, but the satisfied smile on her face makes your discomfort worth it. 

“Do a spin for me,” she asks for the tenth time today. When you roll your eyes she pouts and says, “please?”

You smile and twirl for her again, giggling when you nearly lose your footing and fall off the pedestal, grabbing your mom’s shoulder for support. Your mom laughed too, and you realized you couldn’t remember the last time the two of you laughed together. It was nice.

Rafe has been avoiding going downtown as much as possible these days, keeping his outings to the Island Club and having his friends come to him if they want to party. Even though his dad had officially taken the fall for everything, he knew people still whispered about him as he walked by. I heard he was there. I heard he did it. They say his fingerprints were on the bullets.

Today, however, he had a meeting with a potential buyer of some of the melted gold, a jeweler on main street. He slid on his sunglasses and locked his car, trying desperately to act like today was just business as usual, like he hadn’t just put a hit on his own father.

He walked quickly from his truck toward the jeweler’s store front, but stopped in his tracks as he passed Sally’s. There you were, behind the glass, spinning in a puffy purple dress, before nearly falling on your ass. He cursed himself for the way he flinched, as if he could reach out and catch you through the window. Why was it still his instinct to catch you? 

Two Years Earlier…

“Rafe!” You squealed as he pulled you through the side door of the ballroom into the dimly lit alley. “They were playing my song!”

“That’s why I had to get you outta there,” he leans over you, backing you slowly up against the wall. “You looked way too fucking good dancing to that song.”

Rafe started rifling through the layers of your prom dress impatiently, trying to get his hands on you.

“What are you doing?” You playfully swatted his arm, thinking he must be teasing you.

“I need you,” he growled.

“Right here? In the middle of this gross alley?” You started to think he might not be kidding.

He finally gets his hands under the heavy fabric of your gown and begins kneading the flesh of your ass, making you gasp. His open mouth found yours, and you can immediately taste the alcohol on his tongue. You pull back from him and reach up to grab both sides of his face, hoping your touch would ground him a bit. He looked at you frenzied, his pupils shrinking to pinpoints.

“Baby, are you drunk already?” You said as gently as possible.

“Just on you, baby,” he slurred, attempting to dive back in for a kiss. 

“Wait,” you turned your head, causing his mouth to miss yours and land sloppily on your ear.

“What the hell?” He backed away from you in frustration. His chest was rising and falling quickly, nostrils flaring, and you wondered if he was also high. He’d only done coke once before, as far as you knew, but you remembered how panicked he was after, his heart pounding violently as you tried to calm him down. 

“It’s okay,” you assured him. “We just need to slow down a bit.”

You approached him with your hand outstretched, like he was a stray dog you were trying not to scare off. He didn’t look at you, but allowed you to slip your fingers into his, squeezing gently.

“I just wanna dance with you,” you whispered softly. Je just glared back at you, so you pouted your lips, knowing he found it irresistibly cute when you did that. He couldn’t hide the crooked smirk growing on his lips, and his breath steadied.

“We can party hard later,” you promised. “But I wanna remember this part, with you.”

He looked down at your hand in his and ran his thumb over the promise ring he had given you just a few weeks ago. You lifted his hand to your lips and kissed it softly.

As you swayed softly to the next slow song, he bent down and laid a kiss on your bare shoulder. For a moment, you thought you were successful in bringing him back down to Earth. You were full of pride, truly believing that you, and only you, would always be able to fix him when he was broken. 

Now…

Rafe stood frozen at the dress shop window, just watching you. When you tucked your hair behind your ears, it was like he could still smell your pretty coconut shampoo. When you smoothed down your dress, it was like he could still feel your soft hands on his bare skin. When you said something to your mom, it was like he could still hear your voice whispering in his ear I will love you forever, Rafe Cameron.

But you hadn’t meant it, had you? You couldn’t have, or you would’ve stayed. And if you had stayed, maybe he wouldn’t be where he was now. Maybe he would’ve married you, taken you away from this island like the two of you used to dream about. Maybe he wouldn’t be a thief, a liar, a killer. 

It was too late now, too late to undo it. Too late to get back to who he was before you left. But there was something about the sight of you, the presence of you, even through the tinted window glass, that made him want to try.

Decisively, he turned back toward his car, feverishly dialing Barry’s number. Praying to whatever God was good enough to create the girl in the window that it wasn’t too late.

Looking back at yourself in the mirror, you stopped short when you saw the reflection of a figure in the window. By the time you turned around, it was gone, and you were the one left wondering if you were imagining things.

Two Years Ago…

“Ma’am can you tell us what happened here tonight?” The cop questioned you.

Rafe looked up at you with pleading eyes. White button up stained with blood, eyes glassy and red. His suit jacket, the one you had picked out together to match your dress, had been ripped to shreds.

“I don’t know,” you said to the cop, not removing your disappointed eyes from Rafe, his bloodied face illuminated in the blue-red light of the sirens. 

“We’re going to need you to give a statement, ma’am,” the officer clarified, “for the record.”

“For the record…” you shook your head at the boy on the curb, arms held behind him in handcuffs. Arms that used to hold you every night, arms you didn’t know if you could trust anymore, “...I don’t know him.”

With that, you walked away, the shattered glass from your car window crunching under your heels with each step. Rafe had no choice but to sit there and watch you go, aching with something completely unrelated to the accident.

“Y/N!” He yelled after you, unable to suppress the pain in his voice.

You just kept walking.

Now…

You woke up with a start, clutching your bedsheets. Sighing, you tapped your phone screen and it lit up in the darkness. 5:53am. 

You weren’t surprised, you hadn’t gotten a full night’s sleep in two years. You knew how this would go, once your brain was awake there would be no turning it back off. You sighed and threw the covers off, your old childhood bed creaking loudly as you stood up. You winced at the noise, your mother was a light sleeper, a lesson you’d learned the hard way too many times. 

You pulled on an old pair of leggings and a hoodie, and slowly crept down the stairs. Once out the door, you found your old bike in the shed in the backyard and rode off into the soft morning light. No clear destination in mind, you rode around the neighborhood, down to the beach. You watched the waves crash as you passed them. It had been two years since you’d seen the ocean, and you had nearly succeeded in convincing yourself you were okay with that. But now, the sun rising over the sea, salty air consuming your senses, all the hard work you did to delude yourself unraveled.  

Without really meaning to, you ended up at the cemetery. You parked your bike and let your memory lead you right to your dad’s plot.

His grave clearly hadn’t seen visitors in a while. You made a weak effort to brush the dirt off of his headstone, before smiling and choosing to leave it as is. “God made dirt, dirt don’t hurt” your dad would’ve said. 

For a while you just sat there, fingers combing through the grass as you listened to the birds chirp loudly in the trees above.

“That ever get annoying?” You asked your dad in jest. You smile to yourself, knowing your dad wouldn’t have minded. He was too easy going, the calm current that kept you and your mom afloat. Suddenly hit with a pang of longing to see your father again, you wished that you had something to leave here for him. You noticed a grave a few plots over, completely covered in fresh blooming flowers. 

“Somebody was popular,” you say to your dad’s headstone. “I’m sure they won’t miss one flower right?”

You stand and approach the grave, wondering who it was that inspired such an outpouring of love. 

“Sheriff Susan Peterkin” 1977-2020

You frowned. She must’ve died recently, then. Strange that your mom hadn’t said anything, surely Chip had known her, being on the force. You remembered Peterkin, she came to your school every year when you were growing up. Back then, she was just a beat cop who pulled the short straw and had to give the anti-bullying presentation, but you remember her being very nice.

You plucked a tulip from one of her many bouquets and felt like you should say something.

“Um, hi. I don’t know if you knew my dad, but I think you would’ve liked him. I’m sorry for whatever happened, but thanks for always being so cool.”

As you walked away from her grave, you noticed another newly dug plot a few yards away. The plot was small, if something was buried here, it wasn’t a body. Still, there was a small plaque over the fresh dirt. You approached, having to get pretty close before you could make out the name…

“Ward Cameron.”

Your knees buckled beneath you, the tulip you were holding slipping from your grasp. This grave couldn’t have been here for more than what, a few weeks? The grass had barely begun to grow. Maybe your mom could have just forgotten to tell you about Sheriff Peterkin, but surely the very recent death of Ward Cameron hadn’t just slipped her mind. Clearly, something bigger was going on. 

And Rafe…Rafe.

You regained your footing and started running, past Sheriff Peterkin’s grave, past your father’s, blowing him a quick kiss.

You found your bike and started pedaling as fast as you could. Not even pausing to think through what you’d say when you got there, just knowing you needed to see him, to be with him. Suddenly, it made more sense. He was grieving. Their relationship was complicated, but even when he was pissed at him, Rafe still worshiped his father.

You pulled up to Tannyhill, but the gate was closed. You tried some of the gate codes you remembered the Camerons used to rotate through, but none of them worked. After your fifth attempt, the system locked you out. You rang the bell, not sure if he would even let you in when he realized it was you, but you had to try. No answer, he must not have been home.

You sat by the wall for a few hours, waiting for him to get home. Eventually, your stomach ached with hunger, and you really had to pee. You decided to go home, collect yourself, and come back later. 

By the time you arrived home on your bike, it was almost noon. Chip was just walking in the front door, home from work. He had been pulling double overnight shifts to pay for the wedding and he looked exhausted. Luckily for both of you, the wedding was just a few days away now, and all of this would be behind you soon.

When you walked in the living room, he was mid-conversation with your mother, who quickly shushed him at the sight of you. He looked at her in confusion, clearly not reading the silent message she was trying to send with her eyes.

“What’s going on?” You asked, feeling just as lost as Chip.

“Just telling your mom how we brought in that Cameron boy again last night-” your mother cut him off with a harsh, “Chip!” and he threw his hands up in surrender.

You and your mother looked at each other for a long moment, saying nothing, and at the same time, everything. 

“Don’t,” she pleaded quietly.

You turned fast and ran toward the door, grabbing her car keys and your purse off the dining room table as you passed.

“Y/N, do not do this,” your mom was up from the couch, running after you as you headed for the front door. “Tonight is my bachelorette party and tomorrow we have the rehearsal!”

“I’ll be back in time, I just have to-”

“No you don’t! You don’t have to!” She yelled, trying to grab the handle of the door before you could get to it, but you beat her to it and threw open the door.

“I’m sorry,” you called behind you as you ran to her car in the driveway. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Don’t bother,” she yelled from the front steps. 

You stopped in your tracks, hands pausing on the handle of her car door as you whipped your head towards her in surprise.

“If you leave right now,” she said, eerily composed, “If you go to him, I don’t want you at my wedding. If you do this, y/n…I don’t ever want to see you again”

Your mother had said many harsh words to you in moments of frustration that she tried to take back later, but the way she was talking to you now, her tone so even and her words so carefully selected, you wondered if she’d practiced this speech. Then it dawned on you, she knew you would do this. She knew if you found out about Ward, that you’d run to Rafe’s side. And she was fully prepared to cut you out.

You opened the car door and got in, not looking back at your mom as you peeled out of the driveway.

Twelve Years Earlier…

“No, Rafe,” you scolded, hands on your hips. “You’re the cop, and I’m the robber!”

“Well too bad. I wanna be a robber, too,” he said, taking off the plastic sherriff's badge you had given him and throwing it in the playground dirt. 

“We can’t both be robbers, that doesn’t make any sense,” you told him. 

The rules of make-believe were very clear, and you’d always been a rule follower. That is, until you started spending your recesses playing with Rafe Cameron. He was always in trouble.

“Sure we can, we’ll be like Bonnie and Clyde!” He encouraged, handing you his plastic toy gun.

“Bonnie and Clyde,” you agreed with a smile, taking the gun.

Suddenly, you didn’t care so much about breaking the rules. Not if it meant you got to keep playing with him.

(chapter 4)

a/n: y'all are blowing me away with all your kindness about this story!! I hope you keep loving it!!! Lots more to come (including some smut if you're patient🤫) 🫶

If you asked to be on the taglist and I forgot you, I'm sorry and please let me know!!

taglist: @maybankslover @dark1paradise @lmg-stilinski24 @idkdudsworld @mimipanini09 @patis643 @readingsmuts @nymphetkoo @xoxohoneymoongirl @hangmanscoming @azrielsgirll @maibelitaaura @laniirackssss @rubixgsworld @sweetienans @dasguccier @brain-palacee @ymnizuh @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesgiirl @thewalkingdeadsmut @themindofmoe @my-fabulousness-has-arrived @v0lturiaq

[igotanidea]

Dress rehearsal: Jason Todd x reader

Summary/request: @ladychibirae and @animegirlfromvietnam decided to not let me function normally requesting Jason being a witness to his fiance triyng on wedding dresses. And then those two just went on, making Jason all flustered, generous and horny at the same time. So - here's that XD

Spicy, but not explicit ;)

****

It was all so … white.

Like a freaking hospital.

And it made him flinch, involuntarily diving back into the stream of bad memories involving injuries, hurt, pain and –

“Look at all those dresses!”

Oh, right, back to reality.

No pain, no fear, just the incoming future.

With Y/N.

His wonderful, beautiful, perfect Y/N.

His future bride. His future wife.

But even the sweetness of her presence and the smile forming on her face couldn’t have bellied the overwhelming feeling of being – well - overwhelmed. He was just supposed to drop off Y/N, Kori and Babs and the boutique and excuse himself under any false pretense he could produce and the rattling and pipsqueak and three girls making a commotion worth six or so people only fueled that resolve.

And then Y/N picked some random dress, putting it to herself and giving him a look, with a silent question what was he thinking and suddenly his plans did a full 180.

Like hell he was going anywhere.

He was going to watch his fiancée change and dress up and give a little show of the whole parade of wedding dresses, enjoying it deeply, though not admitting openly.

“What’s with your face?” Y/N teased, reading right through him. “ thought you were supposed to meet Dick for your boys’ stuff?”

“Really? Was I? Can’t remember. I’d rather stay here. Make sure you don’t get locked up here after hours.”

“Well if that’s your only concern-“

“Y/N, come on, really?” Babs chimed in “He shouldn’t be here, it’s against the tradition for the groom to see the bride before the wedding.”

“Well the tradition doesn’t mention anything about seeing each other a few months before the wedding, does it?”

“It’s –“

“Don’t say it.” Jason cut her off, probably harsher than it was necessary. It was Barbara after all, but he was slowly losing patience. No one was going to keep him away from his girl. Not Barbara, not Kori, no silly beliefs and certainly not some outdated tradition.

“I think you should listen to Barbara.” Obviously Kori had to add her three cents. “Though I find your earthly customs amusing.”

“I’m staying.” Jason repeated sternly

“He’s staying.” Y/N echoed at the same time. “I want him here. Luck or not, he’s my fiancé. The rest can go to hell.”

Barbara and Kori looked at her with a little bit of surprise. This definitely was not the standard behavior of their friend, but clearly Jason brought some dominant instincts in her. If her changing was going to be kept in such pace, the second after the wedding she would turn into a full-blown Red hood’s girl. Maybe even running the streets, shooting and beating the shit out of people alongside him without a care in the world.

Jason though had a look of pure admiration on his face. Of course she wanted him here. Of course the rest could go to hell. If anyone had the right to see her picking a dress, it was him.

Conceitedly and ostentatiously he took a spot on the sofa, leaning back on the soft furniture like he owned the place and almost daring Kori and Babs to oppose his presence.

“Shall we begin then?” Y/N grabbed a dress from the hanger, twirling around in the cloud of lace and satin, disappearing in the changing room.

***

Three dresses later, he had to deal not only with Babs and Kori but also with five more people. Somehow (it might have had something to do with Kori sending group messages of photos of Y/N) the rest of the batkids decided to join the fun.

Therefore, instead of being left alone with the love of his life, Jason found himself squeezed on the couch, between Dick and Stephanie, who just happened to be around. Forced to listen to the sighs of delight and exclamations of Cass and nodding of approval of Tim.

Fucking approval!

That freaking bunch though they could just comment on how his Y/N looked. That they were allowed to watch her spin and twirl and watch herself in the mirror, tilting head in that way, see her smile when she liked something or frown when she did not.

Bastards.

He was the only one allowed here and was hanging on the edge of the seat to just tell them all to piss off and throw them on the street.

He did not.

Mostly because every time she walked out, clad in another white outfit all the mean, harsh words intended at his sibling were stuck in the back of his throat and he was turning into a mewling-inside-little-cat-who-just-wanted-to-be-around-its-owner.

Y/N.

Standing in the middle of the boutique clad in the simple yet elegant wedding dress, accentuating all her curves and making her look like a princess. Literally. All she was missing was some sort of crown on her head, but Jason was going to make sure she would wear one during their entire life together. For she was going to be not only a princess, but his queen.

And he was speechless.

So quiet and unable to say any teasing comment or snarky remark it was slowly becoming suspicious.

“Um… Jace?” her voice reached his ears as if through a fog.

“Huh?” he was immediately thrown out from his reverie. “That’s my name, yeah.”

Everyone looked at him like he just grew a third arm (though in this family this probably wouldn’t be that shocking after all.)

“Are you okay?’ Dick asked with a smirk

“I’m fine!”

“You are quiet.” Stephanie slurped on her slushie, loudly and annoyingly.

“What a bright observation” he mocked.

“Aaaaaand he’s back.”

“Piss off!”

“Y/N asked you a question!”

“I know! I heard!”

“She had to call your names three times before you reacted!”

“Maybe I just like her saying my name!”

“You are blushing!”

“I am not blushing!”

“Enough!”

Y/N finally stepped in, deciding to cut off this family bantering and save Jason, thrown at the mercy of the wolves of his siblings. Of course they used the very rare moment of his sensitivity showing to tease him mercilessly and her poor fiancé did not deserve it.

“Oh, saved by the bell.” Damian smirked “if she will have to step up for you during your whole marriage then- OUCH!”

“I said enough. That includes you, Damian.” Perfectly aimed, though not that strong slap on the head made the youngest of the Wayne shut up. “Everyone out.”

“What?!”

“Y/n!”

“Come on, don’t be like that! You still got some dresses to try on!”

“I said: out. All of you. Now.”

With whines and groans of disappointment everyone moved to the exit.

Everyone, including Jason.

Y/N cleared her throat.

He turned around, looking at her questioningly.

“Not you.”

“No?”

“No. Of course not, you idiot. In case you missed something, you are the only person I wanted here from the start.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t be shy with me now. Better tell me how you like this dress.”  She turned towards the mirror, looking at her reflection and playing with the layers of lace on the outfit.

“I think it would look better if-“

“Don’t finish that sentence!”

“You asked for my opinion!”

“Exactly! Opinion! Not your dirty thoughts and sinful desires.”

“Those are very strong words you are using here, sunshine…” he muttered, stepping behind her, wrapping arms on her waist and kissing the back of her neck “but you are not wrong…” one hand slipped to the zipper of her dress.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not going to buy it either way…”

“What? Why? You look so pretty in it!”

“Got your answer.” She teased, revealing how she played him.

“ha-ha! Very funny princess. Why don’t you want to buy it?” his grip on her hips tightened a little. “Look at us, look how we fit…” his chin rested on her shoulder as they watched themselves in the reflection.

“We do…” her voice was a soft whisper of affection and amusement, eyes flicked with love and hope for the future. “We do…” she snuggled a little further in his embrace, hoping for the love of god that he would not take it as an invitation and get any ideas.”

“Don’t you like the dress?” he asked softly, rubbing her sides affectionately.

“I do. But it’s expensive—”

“Wait. What? That’s your reasoning of let’s-not-buy-it? Really? Here.” He reached into his pocket, handing her his credit card. “Take this one. And that ivory one, I liked how it brought out your eyes. And you can also take something for the wedding reception. And preferably a little something for the wedding night?” he winked.

“I believe we’re in the wrong shop for the last one-“

“Then we’ll go to the right shop.”

“But Jason-“

“Don’t Jason me. Money is not the problem. In fact – keep my card.”

“What?”

“Shut up and take my money.”

“Jason!”

“Hm?”

“You’re impossible.”

“Better get used to it, sunshine. I intend to keep you amused for the rest of our lives.”

“That would indicate you are not planning to leave me at the altar.”

“Leave you? Never. No promises on letting you walk the aisle though. Cause I might just snatch you away from everyone and make sure that pretty dress you are buying ends up on the floor before even exchanging out vows…”

“I’m starting to regret casting your family out. At least you were behaving with them around.”

“But still – you like when I misbehave…”

His hands sneaked under the dress, traveling up her leg, spinning her around so she was now facing him, fingers inching higher and higher on the inside of her thigh-

“Jason…”

“hmmmm…”

“Are you really going to-?”

“I would love nothing more.” He whispered in her ear, getting bolder by a second. Having her in her wedding dress, then and there was doing so many things to him.

“Just so you know, I only got one dress like that! Limited edition! If you ruin it now, there’s no chance for you to wear the same on the wedding day!”

The saleswoman’s voice cut right into their ragged breaths and quickened heartbeats making them jump away from each other immediately.

“Wanna buy this and go home?” he smirked.

‘For what? Dress rehearsal?”

“Mh! You make me fall in love with you all over again.” His smirk grew wider.

It took them literally three minutes to buy the dress and rush home. And for the purposes of that night, there was no need for any clothes shopping.

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Gangsters Wife

♥ masterlist | request rules

♥ pairing: mafiaboss!carlos sainz x fem!wife!reader

♥ synopsis: things start to change for you and your marriage-of-convenience husband after you stitch up his wounds

♥ one-shot - as always none of the pictures are mine <3

♥ warnings: swearing and vague descriptions of smut - p in v (wrap it before you tap it) !!!

♥ a/n: i wrote on my vacation lol. i’m a little nervous to post this since it’s uncharted writing territory for me but i hope you enjoy reading it <3

You sat on the black satin sheets of your bed, waiting for your husband to come back from business. You knew you should probably be asleep; that he wouldn’t want you up worrying for him, but here you were wide awake. 

It wasn’t like the two of you married for love, anyway. It was much more out of convenience. His job was… interesting, but you weren’t complaining about the luxury that you now lived in due to the arrangement. 

Your breath hitched as you heard the door unlock, assuming it was Carlos. He made his way towards the bedroom and immediately locked eyes with you. His hair was slicked to the side and he had a couple of cuts on his face. He was wearing a red shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, black dress pants, some black shoes, and an expensive watch. 

“Go to bed,” he demanded, removing the ticking object from his wrist and laying it down in a drawer with the rest of his collection. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted, rustling in the bed sheets. 

“I’m alright if that’s what you’re wondering,” he swiped his thumb over the blood on his bottom lip. “Get some rest.” 

You slowly stood up and strolled over to him.  Your gaze dropped down to the ripped fabric on his side, presumably from a fight. 

“Were you stabbed?” you asked in a whisper. 

“Lightly.”

“Lightly? What does lightly mean?”

He began unbuttoning his shirt, though it didn’t take long before it was off of him. The moonlight from a small open window illuminated his body, his muscles were strained, covered in sweat, and there was a wound flooded with blood on his abdomen. 

“It’s not that deep,” he murmured.

“Literally or figuratively? Because it looks like the knife went in pretty far.” You softly grazed his skin with the light touch of your fingertips. 

You walked over to your nightstand and pulled out a small stitch kit. 

“Sit down,” you commanded him, nodding towards the edge of the bed. 

“I’m fine. I can do this on my own.” 

“I said sit. down.” 

He took a deep, agitated sigh and did as you told him. You dampened a rag in the bathroom and returned to clean the blood off his wound.

You threaded the needle and pierced it through his skin, beginning the first stitch. 

“Are you sure you’re qualified for this?” he asked. 

You nodded, “I wouldn’t have married you without knowing how to do this.” 

He hummed and your left hand went to his waist to hold him still. He could feel the coldness of the silver wedding ring he gave you only a few months ago. 

You finished pulling the last part of the thread and cut the excess off. 

“There,” you said, pressing your palm gently against his abs.

He pulled you onto his lap and his hands firmly gripped your thighs. You made a soft sound and ground down onto his belt. 

“Tomorrow, amor.” he stopped you and whispered. “Let’s go to bed.” 

-

You woke up first at 7. You had rolled over to find your husband awake, messaging someone on his phone.

“Go back to sleep cariño,” he mumbled, running one of his hands over your hair.

You grabbed his hand and kissed his palm, slowly making your way up his arm.

“Amor,” he warned.

“What? You said tomorrow… it’s tomorrow.”

The next thing you knew he had you pinned down by your neck. His phone rang on the nightstand and he used his free hand to pick it up, still thrusting into you as he did so.

“Leave us alone,” he said and hung up instantly.

Leave. Us. Alone.

You woke up again at 9, this time alone in your bed. You wandered into the kitchen to see your husband making breakfast.

“Carlitos?” you ask, a faint smile teasing your lips. “Where’s the chef?” 

“I sent him home.”

“You’ve never cooked for me before,” you took a seat on the barstool at the counter. 

“I’ve never cooked for anyone before,” he admitted.

He set some pancakes on a plate and handed it to you.

You hummed, “No syrup?”

He shrugged “I don’t think we have any. I usually eat mine just the dough.”

It was odd having a conversation like this with Carlos. The two of you weren’t used to making small talk.

“Uhm, how do you feel? Are any of your cuts infected?” you asked.

“No, I feel fine,” he said putting cooking supplies away as you ate. “The stitching you did is good but i’ll probably still get my doctor to look at it.”

“Yeah that’s a good idea,” you replied, picking at your food as his phone rang.

He flipped it open to answer a call from an unknown number. From the muffled spanish voice on the other end you assumed it was from Fernando. 

“Sí, I’ll be there soon.” Carlos said and hung up the phone. 

“I’ll be back,” he told you, walking out the front door without a goodbye.

Your eyes caught the abundance of bodyguards that entered the room to block the exits and entrances. You sighed and slouched, tapping your nails on the marble counter. Great. Just when things were starting to get good. 

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Wonderwall

Rating: Teen Pairing: No Outbreak Joel Miller x Female Reader Word Count: 4,550 Summary: Your ex boyfriend Simon is marrying Sabrina, the woman he left you for. You were sure you'd have have a date in time for his wedding... too bad you were wrong. Once again. your best friend Maria has to save the day by letting you use her handsome, single brother-in-law that owes her a favor as your date. Warnings: fluff, idk what's going on with me but there's so much fluff, soft joel, fake wedding date, rom com vibes, crying over a broken vibrator, no outbreak, maria and tommy are married, sarah and kevin live, british ex boyfriend, reader and joel are close in age (reader is 36, joel is 40), alcohol, i know the gif is marcus pike but i can't stop seeing young joel in this gif, anyways here's wonderwall, no use of y/n, not beta read

A/N: This was written for @justagalwhowrites' Joel Miller Birthday Celebration. Thank you to the always wonderful @ohheypedrito for suggesting the fake dating trope when I asked her what to write.

Masterlist

Fizzy mimosas, fluffy pancakes, crispy hash browns, and sweet maple syrup. Brunch on Sundays with Maria has been a long standing tradition for the two of you. Fifteen years of friendship kept stronger by always promising to make time for each other no matter what is going on in your lives.

These days, Maria’s raising a toddler while building a very successful career in the Austin district attorney's office whereas last night you cried over your vibrator dying while trying to pull an orgasm out of you for an endorphin rush. God knows you need one.

You’ve been in a hole since the arrival of Simon’s wedding invitation. The man you spent your most youthful and fulfilling years with is now marrying Sabrina, the beautiful co-worker he crashed your relationship for. Yeah, yeah, your twenty year partnership was already headed for the cliff, but her perky tits and pouty lips sure did speed up the demise. 

“So, Simon’s wedding is next weekend, how do you feel?” Maria interrogates from across the table.

“Fine!” you stuff a pancake triangle into your mouth. “It’s fine! I’m fine!”

“Mm,” she lifts a skeptical eyebrow. Why do you lie to her? She makes three figures locking away liars, she can spot them a mile away. “Let me guess, you still don’t have a date?”

“Ugh, no, why did I mark two on the RSVP?” 

“I told you not to,” Maria shakes her head 

“Yeah, but, I-I want to show him I’m doing great without him.”

“Babe,” Maria grabs your hand and squeezes it, “I say this with all the love in my heart… you’re not doing great.”

“I knoooow!” you sigh, closing your eyes. “I just thought… I’d show up in my pretty dress with a hot man on my arm and show Simon I’m happy and fulfilled without his love.”

“But you don’t ha–”

“Please, I know. I just– I’m happy for him in some really odd way but I also want to be… happy for myself.”

“Okay,” she nods before taking a deep breath, “here’s what I’m going to do for you. You know Joel?”

“Your… brother-in-law?”

“Yes, he owes me a favor, soooo, he’s going to be your date,” she sits back folding her arms across her chest with a smug smirk. “He’s handsome as hell and a good man but he’s very quiet and intimidating to those who don’t know him. He’s perfect for this situation.” 

You do know Joel… just not very well at all. There have been random run-ins at Miller family parties, but nothing more than a quick “hello” and “how are you?” exchanged between the two of you. He seems the opposite of your Dartmouth educated, polo playing yuppie of an ex. “Yoo hoo,” Maria waves her hand in front of your face catching your attention. “Does that work for you?”

“Oh, sorry, yeah, I think… it does,” a relieved smile lifts your face.  

Maria has, once again, fixed your problem. 

—-

RING… RING… RING… 

Your fingers nervously tap against the countertop. “Come on, pick uuup, pick uuuup, pick uuu–”

“Miller,” a deep voice answers.

“H-Hi, uh, Joel?” You feel a third your age, like you’re right back in middle school calling the cute boy in your science class because your friend dared you. 

“Speaking.”

“Hey, uh, you’re my wedding date? Maria… she gave me your number so we can plan?”

“Oh, yes,” his voice softens. “Saturday, right?”

“Yeah, uh… I think it might be good to go over a story for us before the big day.”

“Right,” he chuckles, “I’m all ears.”

—-

Your eyes roam down your notes from the call. “So, we formally met at Kevin’s graduation party. I call you ‘honey’, our first date was to a movie and then to pizza. We’ve been together for a little over a year. You hate sushi and love tamales. You don’t like water slides. You play the guitar. You have a daughter named Sarah who’s a senior in high school. You own a construction company with Tommy… I think that’s about right?”

"Believe so," the bass of his quiet voice causes goosebumps to pebble your skin. If he's doing this to you over the phone, what will the wedding be like?

"Okay," you settle against your sofa, "and for me?" 

Papers shuffle before Joel clears his throat. “Hm, okay. I asked Tommy for your number after Kevin’s graduation party. You work at an insurance company, but you dream of owning your own bookstore one day. You love mashed potatoes. I call you 'baby.' Your favorite color is bronze. You’re a night owl forced to be an early bird. You love Taylor Swift unapologetically. You like staying over at my home because your favorite coffee place delivers to my house.”

“Perfect. I know this is totally weird and all, but, thanks for doing this. Sometimes I allow my pride to sabotage me... and Maria has to come in and save me.”

“She’s good at that.”

“Thanks again Joel.”

“You’re welcome,” his voice feels you with warmth. “I’ll pick you up on Saturday.” 

“Yes, Saturday. Until then, have a good week.”

“You too.”

After saying goodbye, you hang up with a plume of butterflies in your stomach. 

—

“Okay! Get ready!” you shout from behind your bathroom door. 

Your Sunday brunch date with Maria has been moved up to a Saturday afternoon primping and preening spree in your home as she helps you get ready to watch the once love of your life marry someone else. 

You step out of the bathroom to find Maria sitting cross-legged on your bed. As soon as she sees you, she leans forward with wide eyes.

"Wow," she breathes, her voice filled with awe. "I mean, seriously, wow."

"Really?" you ask, giving a twirl in your mauve dress, adorned with a delicate print of sequined flowers blooming across the bodice.

“Really,” her eyebrow angles as she nods, “I can’t wait for Miller to have to deal with keeping his cool around you.”

“What?”

Maria just smiles, “Let’s just say, you look hot, that’s all I’m going to say.” 

___

A shiny black truck pulls into your driveway. Panic jolts through you as you watch the door swing open from your front window. Out steps Joel Miller, impeccably dressed in a black suit. Oh good lord–he’s your date. Like, date date, as in the guy you’re going to be spending the rest of the night with. The anxiety over Simon and Sabrina’s wedding fades into the background, replaced by the overwhelming challenge of maintaining your composure in the presence of someone who looks that stunning in a tuxedo.

The doorbell rings. 

Okay, okay, you got this.

A gust of pleasant autumn air hits your skin when you open the door. Oh good LORD, he looks incredible. His hair is longer than you remember, falling in gentle waves you dream of running your fingers through. His beard is neatly trimmed, though slightly patchy with a strong mustache that frames his plush lips. He has a shy smile, his dimple makes a divot you want to press your finger into. His simple black suit stretches around his obviously toned and broad shoulders. 

“Hi, it’s uh, nice to see you again. Come on in,” you say, opening the door wider and stepping aside. 

“Course,” he replies, striding in past you. His hand twitches nervously when he turns and takes how you look fully in. “You look– y’look beautiful.” 

A flush of warmth spreads through you at the compliment from the most handsome man you’ve ever seen, now standing in the middle of your living room. 

“Oh, thanks, uh, it’s not every day your ex boyfriend of twenty years gets married to the woman he left you for… so I guess I needed to show off.”

“It’s–yeah–good,” he stammers, his eyes darting around the room, clearly avoiding your gaze.

“Well, uh, I just need to slip on my shoes and grab my bag, then we can get going. Make yourself at home.” 

“Sure thing.” 

As you head down the hall to get your things, you hear him let out a long sigh. 

Don’t worry dude, I get it. It’s going to be a long night. 

“So, um, I know, this is awkward,” you say, returning to the living room and dropping your shoes on the floor, “but I’m really grateful to you.”

He chuckles, sitting on the edge of your couch. “S’alright. I can’t say no to a free meal and open bar.” 

“If I still know Simon’s taste, it’ll be a top-notch open bar too,” you muse, slipping into your high heel and bending over to fasten the buckle. 

You glance up when you hear Joel’s breath catch. He’s staring intently at you–more specifically, at your exposed leg and thigh, courtesy of the high slit in your dress. 

You really had to pick the dress that Maria dubbed “the revenge dress,” didn’t you? He clears his throat and quickly averts his gaze, but the charged atmosphere lingers. You try to ignore it, buckle your other shoe and grab your clutch.

“Ready?” you ask. 

“I am," he replies, standing up and adjusting his neck tie, a hint of color warms his cheeks. . 

—-

Joel’s truck looks quite out of place pulling into the Hurts Family’s grand estate. Of course Simon’s getting married at Father & Mother’s sprawling manor. You can’t help but wonder if the altar and ceremony will be located in the same conservatory you and Simon lost your virginity to each other in. 

The whole drive over, you and Joel practiced your spiels, all the while you tried to ignore the waves of attraction that vibrated between you and him in the small cab of his truck.

He pulls up to the valet and reluctantly hands his keys over to the college aged kid before hurrying over to your door, cutting in front of the doorman to help you down. What a gentleman.

Soft violin music floats through the air and white flower petals line the walkway leading into the massive estate that once felt like your second home. A nagging thought lingers in the back of your mind that you’re about to live what should’ve been your wedding day. 

You breathe out deeply, Joel grabs your hand as he guides you into the house. 

People mingle, some you don’t know, many you do. Aunt Billie, Uncle Martin, the cousins from Manchester, Simon’s favorite professor. Familiar faces surround you, what the hell were you thinking this would be okay?

You’ve known this home since you were twelve, Simon showed up in your seventh grade algebra class, a new student with bright blue eyes and blonde hair, you thought he was the prettiest boy you had ever seen, even before he spoke… the British accent would’ve been enough to sweep you off your feet. It took a couple years of friendship before you both admitted your crushes on each other, the confessions happened in the movie room, just down the hallway you stand near.

Love is fleeting, love is hopeless. You’ve learned to care for yourself like Simon once cared for you, but now in this home you used to sneak into, you feel just as alone as you did the day you moved out of the house you shared with him for a decade just two streets down from here. 

“Hey, you okay?” Joel leans in and whispers. “Squeezin’ my hand mighty hard.”

“Oh,” you blink, refocusing on him, “I am, it’s just… really bizarre and everything. Seeing so many familiar people I haven't seen in years feels strange.”

“You’re doing good, I got you,” he says, letting go of your hand, and wrapping his arm around your waist, guiding you farther into the mansion. 

___

The impressive altar stands in the conservatory–you know your ex well– this windowed dwelling means everything to him. Everywhere you look, peach and champagne flowers are nestled among lush green foliage. You and Joel settle eight rows back on the groom's side, just a few feet from the bench you lost your virginity on. Jamie, Simon’s friend from college, sends you a kind smile when you sit next to him. 

Your foot taps nervously against the stone tile, keeping rhythm with the soft string music lilting through the air. You take a deep breath to center yourself as the processional begins. The family minister you’ve known since you were fifteen leads the way then–Simon. Still just as handsome, in that specific pretty way that drew you to him as a teenager. The slight waves of his dark blonde hair are more controlled and slicked back. His slender body is topped by wide shoulders from all his years of playing polo. His equally handsome brother Liam follows, along with a handful of friends you used to consider your own. 

Joel’s arm wraps around you as Simon takes his place at the altar, his fingers resting firmly on your bare shoulder just in time for the bridal procession to begin. Everybody takes their rightful places waiting for the bride. Simon stands at the altar, laser focused on the doorway, oddly, you feel a sense of happiness for him. Maybe you feel less lonely with the comfort of Joel’s strong arm around you, maybe you’re just caught up in the emotions of the day. 

As you expected, Lia and Ewan, Simon’s niece and nephew, are the ring bearer and flower girl. You were at the hospital when both of them were born. You taught both of them how to swim. They used to call you their aunt. 

The small orchestra begins playing “The Wedding March,” the audience stands in anticipation of Sabrina’s entrance. The curtains part and she appears shimmering down the aisle in her ivory dress. Okay, you have to admit, she looks gorgeous. Joel pulls you closer, his hand rests against your hip as Sabrina and her father pass your row. You’re grateful for his presence, even if it’s just a comforting distraction that just happens to be pretend.

The look on Simon’s face is unmistakable when he takes Sabrina’s hand–it’s the same look he would give you whenever he told you loved you all those thousands upon thousands of times. 

You take your seat, Joel’s hand finds your shoulder once more. It’s going to be damn hard to concentrate on the ceremony.

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today.

—

You survive the ceremony… thanks to Joel and his calloused hand rubbing circles on your shoulder. As Simon and Sabrina lead the recessional out of the conservatory, Simon spots you and sends you a knowing wink and smile when he spots Joel next to you. Maybe it’s a good thing you attended, it’s the final picket placed in the closure fence. 

“You good?” Joel whispers in your ear while watching the rest of the party leave. You turn to respond, failing to realize his face is now right next to yours. His lips now sit a breath away from yours. Panic slips in, overwhelmed by the thought of anyone catching an awkward moment like this, especially since you’re the ex girlfriend the groom left for his brand new bride. 

Fuck it. You lean forward and place your lips against his, leaving a delicate peck against them. At least now you’ll have this moment that’s just for you. 

—

The warm autumn sun is beginning to set casting the preened and pristine gardens of the Hurts Estate in amber tones. Thank god for the cocktail hour and open bar. 

You sip your champagne and smile at a few familiar faces while gazing out upon the vast lawns you used to spend lazy days sunbathing and playing croquet on. What a bizarre homecoming of sorts. Joel is taking his role seriously, constantly checking on you and never leaving your side.

A familiar voice calls your name, pulling you from your reverie.

“Oh sweetheart! It’s so lovely to see you!” Simon’s mother, Adeline, greets you with kisses on both cheeks before pulling you into a warm hug. You’ve always liked the woman and she always adored you. She turns to your date, her eyes lighting up when she looks Joel up and down. 

“Addy, this is my boyfriend Joel.” A rush of excitement is sent through you at the simple introduction. “Joel, this is Simon’s mom, Adeline.”

“Good evening ma’am,” Joel says, extending his hand to shake hers gently. “It’s quite beautiful here.”

“Oh, thank you! Aside from our two boys, this is our pride and joy. There’s nothing better than seeing your child get married in the place you call home.” . 

“Well, I’ve heard a lot of nice things about this place, you have a lot of good memories here, right baby?” Joel looks at you with an affectionate smile. Oh he’s good.

“I do,” you smile warmly at Addy. 

“Oh sweetheart! That makes me so happy! You’re always welcome here, I’m so happy Simon invited you!”

“I am too, it’s so nice to see you,” you say, realizing how much you truly miss her. You spent twenty years of your life around so many of these people before being cut off cold turkey from them.  

“Shoot! I better keep moving and making my rounds! Do enjoy the bar, and make sure tell them Addy sent you; they’ll give you the real good stuff. Joel, are you a whiskey man?”

“Yes ma’am,” Joel replies with a nod.

“We’ve got some Old Rip Van Winkle, aged 25 years. Just tell them Adeline insists and they’ll pour you a glass.” 

“Thank you ma’am,” Joel says gratefully.

“Oh, I like him darling!” Addy winks before turning to leave, her gold dress gleaming just as bright as her personality. 

—

The large tent erected for the ceremony glows in pink and orange hues. Chandeliers hang from the ceiling overflowing with roses and garlands. It’s gorgeous and opulent everywhere you look. 

You’ve been nervous about your table assignment since you sent in your RSVP. Who will you be stuck with? You prayed it would be strangers versus people you used to call friends. You thank your lucky stars when you’re led to table eleven, where you’re greeted warmly by strangers. You tell your new tablemates you’re an old friend of Simon’s, Joel grabs your hand and gently holds it while you introduce yourselves,  shocked you still haven’t had to utilize the stories you and him invented. 

Ladies and gentlemen! Please welcome for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Simon Hurts! 

The two lovebirds make their grand entrance, glowing and grinning in their newlywed aura before the symphonic melody of “Can’t Help Falling In Love” begins to play. Hilarious, the last time you heard this song it was on a playlist Sabrina had made for Simon… a couple weeks before your ultimate separation. You got into a fight over the amount of times he’d play it, he told you were overreacting and being dramatic, you should’ve trusted your instincts right then and there.

They look so happy and gorgeous together, dancing their first dance surrounded by all of their loved ones inside this picturesque setting. It should’ve been you…

Joel leans in closer, wrapping his arm around you, stealing your attention from your spiraling thoughts. “I can’t play this song on violin or cello, but I can play it on guitar, maybe I can play it for you sometime.” 

You look up at him, your eyes locking with his, “I–I’d like that.” 

“Thought you would,” he smirks, before leaning down to place a tender kiss on your forehead.

He’s been touching you all night, always considerate and tender, as if he holds an actual amount of reverence in his heart for you. God, he’s either the sweetest man to ever live, or he should give up the construction job, move to Hollywood and start acting. 

—

Simon and Sabrina make their rounds after dinner, they’re a table away laughing and galavanting with friends you used to call your own. It’s been over a year since you last spoke to him and now as the ultimate final thing you’ve been dreading is near, you’re nervous as hell. Joel casually drapes his arm around the back of your chair before leaning forward and pressing his lips to the top of your head, helping subside some of your anxieties. 

“You good?” he checks in with a soft whisper. 

You nod, scooting closer into the shell he’s created for you with his large body. 

Simon catches your eye with a warm, gentle smile as he leads Sabrina over to your table. You can’t be too mad at him, he’s been nothing but a gentleman since he forced the end of your already faltering relationship. Sabrina, well–she was just a better match for him. You wish them well, no matter how much it still seemingly hurts. You just want Simon to miss you a little bit.

The newlyweds greet the rest of the table, collecting well-wishes and flattery from the guests before turning their attention to you and Joel. 

Simon bends forward and gives you a tight hug before thanking you and saying how lovely it is to see you. Sabrina says hello, you tell her she looks beautiful, she returns the favor. 

Simon extends his hand to Joel and introduces himself. “I’m Simon, I’m sure you’ve heard a bit about me–hopefully some good,” he says, his ever present British charm helps cut through the tension radiating off of Joel’s gruff reservedness. 

“She has,” Joel replies, shaking Simon’s hand. “I’m Joel. Nice to meet you both. Congrats. S’been a lovely wedding.”

The four of you make casual conversation. Joel mentions he’s a contractor, Simon’s eyes light up before he mentions how he wants to build a pool house. Your heart twinges a bit when you remember it’s all for pretend and there’s no way Joel could take the job. Joel makes a joke about how dinner was better than a No. 5 from Whataburger, eliciting a ruckus laugh from the newlyweds. You feel good, until the sinking feeling inside rears its ugly head and reminds you this is all a sham. 

Sabrina nods to Simon in an unspoken understanding that they need to move on with their greetings. Joel wishes them well and thanks them for the lovely party. You smile and do the same. 

“It’s good to see you happy,” Simon says as he gives you a parting hug. 

If only he knew…

You’re quiet as you watch Simon and Sabrina walk away, Simon’s hand is placed on Sabrina’s back lightly stroking up and down. Joel softly says your name, breaking your concentration on the happy married couple. 

“I like this song, let’s dance,” he says, rising and extending his hand to you. 

“Wonderwall?” you ask, taking his hand and letting him lead you to the dance floor. “Let me guess, you can play it on guitar.” 

“I do,” he confirms with a smile, pulling you close against his body. His large hand splays against your lower back, and yours finds its place on his firm shoulder. The wedding band has slowed the song down, couples gently sway around you. The twinkling lights above reflect in Joel’s dark brown eyes. You can’t stop looking at him, he can’t stop looking at you. The moment is intimate, to any other wedding guest, you look like a couple just as in love as the newlyweds. 

You rest your head against his chest, breathing in the scent of his cologne–woodsy, smoky, with a hint of cinnamon. His thumb strokes against the skin of your hand as your bodies synchronistically move together. This doesn't feel like pretending at all.

The song ends, Joel makes no move to pull away, and you don’t either. The first notes of the next song begin and you recognize the drumbeat anywhere. You can’t believe you’re hearing it here, of all places.

“We can leave the Christmas lights up till January…”

“Ohh,” you let out a soft sigh against Joel’s chest, feeling your heart drop. “This was going to be our first dance song, I-I told him it as soon as I first heard it all those years ago.”

Joel tilts his head down, his concerned brown eyes peer into yours. “M’sorry, did you want to stop?”

“No, no, it’s–I can’t leave the floor during this. What if he sees me?”

Joel nods reassuringly before tightening his hold on you and pulling your joined hands in closer. His head rests on top of yours engulfing you with his broad body, like your own personal fake wedding date security blanket. 

Your heartbreak slowly dissipates, mended by the gentle touch and attention of Joel. The song ends, he asks if you want to get a breath of fresh air, you gratefully nod before taking his hand and telling him you know a place.

—

The breeze rolling off the lake sends a chill across your skin, Joel takes notice, quickly removing his jacket and places it over your shoulders without hesitation.

“Thanks,” you say, sinking into the leftover warmth of Joel.

“No problem,” he says, shuffling his neck tie open and unbuttoning the top two buttons of his crisp white dress shirt. “I’m burnin’ up under it.”

You both fall into a comfortable silence as you watch the tranquil waves lap at the shore. “Sorry about earlier. It was just… a shock to hear that song. He moved on so quickly and I feel like I’ve just been left wondering how I can so easily be… replaced.” 

“No need to apologize,” he sighs, “I’m not good at any of this stuff, but, you don’t seem like someone that’s so… easy to get over.” 

Your heart skips a beat when you look over at him. The soft ambient glow of the full moon reflecting off the water bathes him in an almost ethereal glow, making him look like a knight in shining armor who walked through a portal to help save you from your own wounded heart you’ve been trying to heal for the past two years. 

“Guess you just don’t know me very well then,” you joke, trying to slow down the thoughts racing within your heart and mind. 

“No, but I think I’d like to,” he says, turning to you with a sincere look in his eyes. 

“I-I’d like that too.” 

Joel hesitates for a moment before asking, “There’s a new Curtis & Viper movie releasing next week. Did you want to go with me?”

“Like a real date?” you ask, your voice tinged with excitement.

“Suppose it would be. We could recreate our ‘first’ date that we told that one aunt of Simon’s all about. We’ll get pizza at the place across the street.”

“I’d love that,” you say, your excitement clear in your voice. 

From across the yard, you can just make out the sound of the band playing for the wedding guests. 

Joel takes a deep breath and turns to you with a warm, playful smile. “I feel better asking you here so you know I’m being for real. I really want to dance with you. May I have this dance?” 

“I’d love nothing more,” you reply, a smile spreading across your face as he pulls you closer.

You remind yourself to send Maria a bouquet of flowers for setting up your fake wedding date as you settle into his embrace.

[buckyalpine]

Bucky likes what he sees

Imagine Bucky goes out with the team for drinks, staying at the bar nursing on a drink while his eyes linger on the pretty girl in a red dress. It’s like she wanted his attention, the material hugging her body perfectly while her hips sway, her head tilted back when she laughs at something her friend says. They lock eyes for a second, and God does he love that smile- 

“Why don’t you go over and talk to her” Sam nudged Bucky’s shoulder when he notices the pretty thing Bucky’s been eyeing, the girl equally flirty, giving him shy smiles every so often, “C’mon, she’s into you” 

“Knock it off” Bucky huffed, shaking his head and going back to his drink while Steve takes his turn to encourage his bestfriend. 

“Maybe buy her a drink, see how it goes” he offers but the deadpan look he gets back is enough for him to snort and raise his hands in defeat. Bucky is perfectly happy just watching, noting every dip and wine of her waist, her dress riding up ever so slightly with the movement of her body. His eye’s narrow when he sees someone try to sneak their hands on her from behind, only to be turned down when she moved away. 

However the guy doesn’t seem to get it.

He’s back again, this time trying to grab her with more force, pushing his hips against her ass. 

Bucky doesn’t like it. 

Steve and Sam exchange knowing glances with each other when they see his jaw clench, the rest of the team also now quietly watching what the super solider would do. Nat and Tony noticed the sparkle of a diamond ring, huffing when she sees it’s on her ring finger. 

“Isn’t that a wedding ring? Whole ass rock on her finger” 

“Never mind, I think she’s marr-

Before they could say anything else, Bucky is on his feet, striding over to the dance floor, eyes locked on the man pawing at the doll that had his attention all night.  

“Don’t touch my wife” Bucky growled, shoving the man off, letting him stumble onto the floor, his voice dying down immediately when he noticed who was towering over him. He scrambled away without looking back while the rest of the team stayed frozen in place, jaws all on the floor, watching Bucky pull you into him with ease. He smoothed down the red material of your dress, walking you over to the bar where there was a bit more light, hardly noticing everyone staring at you both. 

“You okay, babydoll?” Bucky held your waist, looking you over, his fingers tracing over your face, his arm tightly hugging you. 

“I’m okay” You nodded, standing on your toes to peck his lips, your hand’s resting on your husbands chest, nuzzling into him. “Wondered how long you’d last just sitting there” You giggled while he smirked, kissing the top of your head. 

“Well, I didn’t do anything until someone touched you” Bucky pouted in defense, making you melt over how protective he was. 

“Thank you for saving me Mr. Barnes” you whispered while he looked down at you with heart eyes, taking your hand in his, placing a kiss on the ring that sat on your finger, the one that he spent months picking and designing just for you. 

“Wife?” Sam broke the silence while everyone else continued to look at you both in disbelief. 

“Oh” Bucky blushed, blinking with owlish eyes, his baby blues pleading with you to take over because he doesn’t know what to say. “This-this is my wife, y/n” He tried to bite back a shy smile but it was no use, his cheeks dusted pink, feeling giddy and fuzzy with you beside him. 

“Come again. Wife?” 

“Uh-yeah” He tried to hide behind you through it was no use, his much larger and taller form still clearly visible. 

“What’s terminator doing”

“This...this is the winter soldier everyone is so scared of..for fucks sake, are you trying to hide behind her?!”

“How long has this little secret been going on for” 

“thryrs” Bucky mumbled but no one else hears it except for Steve, given his enhanced hearing.

“THREE YEARS?!” 

“Steve, I can explain-

“JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES”

“Tony- 

“YOU BITCH”

Bucky groaned, tucking his face into your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist, completely tongue tied. He was going to introduce you to the team at some point, he just didn’t imagine it would be like this, he also didn’t anticipate feeling this shy. 

“You know you can blink twice if he’s been holding you hostage” Sam cackled at the way your 6ft soldier clung onto you, refusing to look at his friends, your hand gently patting his head, rolling your eyes at his antics.

“If it helps, he talks about you all of the time” You smiled, only to have Bucky frown on the inside for you exposing him. 

“No, I don’t” His muffled voice vibrated against your neck, reluctantly pulling away, “Maybe only about Steve” 

“Uh huh, sure” 

“Well, as you can see, I didn’t need to talk to her, she’s already mine” Bucky grinned, kissing your cheek, his mind now fully focused on bending you over on the dance floor but- 

“You’re not getting away that easily Barnes, sit down, we’ll ask the questions” Tony stated, while everyone moved to one side, leaving the other side empty for you and Bucky. 

“Question 1. What’s your full legal name”

“James-

“LIAR”

“Steve-

“Bitch” 

It was going to be a long night. 

[elsiewritesss]

a smut of the reader and Vinnie getting married and they decide to have a quickie before the wedding

Before the I Do's

pairings: vinnie hacker x fiancé reader

warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected sex, swearing, slight fingering, slight choking, exhibitionism (slight i think??)

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

“We gotta make this fast baby.” Vinnie whispered loud enough for Y/N to hear.

The two of them locked themselves in a bathroom far enough away from anyone to hear them.

“Okay. Just hurry.” Y/N whined as she pulled up the fabric of her white wedding dress for Vinnie to have easier access.

Here they were, on their wedding day. The two anxious of not being able to see one another until their first look brought all the sexual tension with it. When it was time for the first look, anyone could feel the sexual tension, which led them to where they are now.

The two snuck off to a bathroom twenty minutes before the ceremony started and they have not taken their hands off of one another.

Vinnie reached under the dress, feeling up until he reached the fabric of Y/N’s white lace thong.

“Fuck baby, I cannot wait to rip these off later tonight.” Vinnie spoke against her lips as he undid his belt with one hand, pulling down his pants just enough to free his pulsing cock that slapped right against his stomach.

Vinnie moved forward as he picked Y/N up and gently set her at the edge of the counter, giving him perfect access to slowly ease into her.

“Oh fuck,” Y/N whispered, her pussy welcoming every inch of him until his hips were flesh with hers.

“God baby you feel so good.” Vinnie moaned softly as he began to rock his hips.

Y/N bit down on her lip as she closed her eyes to quiet herself as Vinnie hit every right spot inside of her.

“Fuck baby…take me so fucking- good. Can’t wait to fuck this pussy all night tonight.” Y/N whimpered at his words, moving part of her dress as she looked down at the sight where the two of them met.

“You like that pretty girl huh? Watching me fuck your perfect pussy?” Vinnie lightly grabbed the front of her throat, tilting her head up to look at him as she nodded the best she could. Her small whimpers coming out as she still had her teeth latched onto her bottom lip.

Vinnie took his hand that wasn’t holding her hip and began to rub small, fast circles on her swollen clit.

Y/N’s teeth unlatched from her lip as her mouth opened, a moan falling out as Vinnie quickly pressed his lips against hers.

“Quiet baby. Don’t want anyone…knowing how well I’m fucking you right now.” He whispered against her lips as she began to clench around him.

“Come on baby, know you're close.” Vinnie quickened his pace on her clit, his thrust getting rougher.

“Vin-Vinnie,” Y/N breathed out, grabbing onto Vinnie’s biceps for support as she reached her orgasm.

Vinnie’s orgasm followed behind as he spilled inside of her, his thrusts slowing to a stop. All that could be heard was the pants of the two trying to catch their breaths.

Vinnie slowly eased out of her, watching as their combined juices spilled out of her before he leaned down and pushed it back in.

“Vin. St-stop. Sensitive.” Y/N squirmed as Vinnie held her hip down.

“I know. I know.” He whispered, satisfied with himself before placing one small kiss to her red puffy clit, fixing her thong back in place.

Vinnie stood back up, fixing himself before placing Y/N back down on the floor and fixing her dress around her.

“Okay. I don’t have sex hair and my makeup didn’t smudge. We’re good.” Y/N looked at herself in the small mirror above the sink before turning back around to Vinnie who was already smiling at her.

“We should probably get back out there.” Y/N whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck as Vinnie’s went around her waist.

“I’ll see you at the altar pretty girl.” Vinnie spoke, leaning down to capture her lips in a kiss as Y/N reciprocated the kiss.

“I’ll be the one in white.” She whispered back before opening the bathroom door and slipping out.

[cameronspecial]

I absolutely love your rafe and drew fics 😍 💕

Can you do one where reader catch the bouquet at a wedding and rafe or drew having a reaction to it (inspo https://pin.it/2wFpwBB)

Byeee love ya

Meant To Be A Cameron

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.6K

Masterlist

Weddings are the worst for Rafe. People use it as an excuse to get drunk and it is so weird that a kiss is demanded of the couple every time a glass is clinked. To make it worse, he has to be surrounded by people he doesn’t care for. The only thing that makes his cousin’s wedding bearable right now is Y/N. The joy she radiates as she dances with his sisters is contagious and his eyes are locked on her the entire time. The fast-paced song slows to a smooth romantic one. He doesn’t dance, but he will for her. So he takes it upon himself to cut in between his sisters and girlfriend. His hand rests on her waist while hers is wrapped around his neck. They are so close together that not even an atom can fit between them. She can hear the steady beat of his heart with her head pressed against his chest. Baboom. Baboom. Baboom. It calms her. 

Weddings are the best for Y/N. They create the perfect excuse to dress to the nines and all the traditions for the celebration are so cute. To make it better, she loves the promise of a forever with a special someone. Being at Rafe’s cousin’s wedding with him only sweetens the deal. This side of him makes her so happy. The part that goes against his nature to do something that will bring her joy. The sacrifice of his discomfort fills her with love and she knows she would do the same for him. His opinion on marriage is one she is not familiar with, yet she hopes he’ll want to meet her at the altar one day. 

The song fades away and the MC picks up the microphone, filling the air with her voice instead of music. “The bride would now like to invite all the unmarried ladies to come onto the dance floor for the bouquet toss.” Squeals erupt into the room. Sarah and Wheezie drag Y/N to the crowd of women around the bride and Rafe holds in his chuckle. 

The room is filled with a buzz as the woman robed in white holds the flowers with two hands, throwing her hands back repeatedly until she finally lets go. The bundle of colours goes flying into the air and the female guests on the floor reach up in an attempt to be the lucky maiden that gets it. Playing along with the spirit of the tradition, Y/N stands on her tiptoes with her hands in the air. Her mouth falls into an O when she feels the stems in her grasp. She wraps her fingers around the green stocks to hold on to her victory. Disappointed groans are let out by the women around her and the dance floor empties. Wheezie and Sarah beam at her, loving the idea of officially making her a Cameron sister. With the floor now clear, she can fully see her boyfriend. She can tell he is hiding a grin. He hates showing his emotions around other people that aren’t her. She doesn’t mind, so she runs to him, not letting her stilettos stop her. She jumps when she gets close enough and he catches her. His lips press to her cheek. 

He sets her on the ground with one last kiss, on the lips this time. Their foreheads come together. “Looks like I’m meant to become a Cameron,” she jokes, holding up the bouquet. He takes it for her, examining every angle of it, “You certainly are. Camerons are winners.” Her cheeks heat up at the undertone of his words. “So you are thinking about making me a Cameron?” she clarifies, looking up at him through her eyelashes. He pulls her into his side and dips his head so his mouth is next to her ear. “I have known I am going to put a ring on your left ring finger since I met you. It’s only a matter of when.” He punctuates his sentence with a kiss. The caterpillars in her stomach form into a cocoon, preparing themselves to be released for the when he is talking about. 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

[roanofarcc]

THE OLD FASHIONED WAY

pairing. trevor lefkowtiz x alive!reader

summary. You had always regarded your ability to see ghosts as odd, until you met Sam and her eclectic group of ghosts.  

warnings. kind of/kind of not happy ending, ig? sad trevor :( angsty and a little flirty. reader gets stood up.

word count. 3.8K || masterlist

a/n. alive!reader HURTS but in the best way

trevor tag list. @marcos-scorpion , @youngdumbamericanteen

“I have one last, fun, interview question,” Sam said and you inwardly cringed. You had sat through so many job interviews that you knew a ‘fun’ question was normally anything but. Nevertheless, you smiled politely and nodded at her to continue asking. “What are your thoughts on ghosts?” 

You laughed, against your will. It was a reflexive response that you immediately regretted. “Sorry!” you rushed out. 

She didn’t seem put off by your laughing. “I know, it’s a ridiculous question. But the last guy that worked here…uh, this place may, potentially, be haunted. Not that I know, but there’s speculation. I just want to know how you feel about ghosts. Do you believe in them? Do you think it's all a bunch of mumbo-jumbo?” That was probably one of the oddest interview questions you’d ever been asked, but it was better than explaining how your weaknesses were really strengths. It also felt pointed. 

You didn’t know Sam and she didn’t know you, but the question made it sound like she knew your weird talent. And for some reason, you didn’t feel the embarrassment you normally did when someone brought up the concept of ghosts. There was something about Sam that compelled you to tell the truth, even against your better judgment. 

“Actually, that’s kind of a funny story-” you started, but were cut off.

“Samatha, when you are done, your assistance is needed in the television room. Someone believes it is his turn to watch another horrible film of space nonsense, but I distinctly recall it being my turn to watch those horrible women pick out whorish dresses for their weddings.” A woman appeared at the threshold of the entryway and the living room, dressed in a gown not from that century with her red locks pinned up in a curious updo. You were taken back, confused when your eyes fell on the man that stood beside her, dressed formally on top but lacking anything but socks and shoes on his bottom half. 

“First of all, Star Wars is not ‘space nonsense’ it's one of the biggest movies, like, ever,” the man started. “And second of all, you just got to watch your pick two days ago.” 

Sam cleared her throat, ignoring the two with a tight-lipped smile. You looked between the two, which seemed to confuse them. “I’m so sorry, will you excuse me for one second? I’ve got to take care of something really fast.” 

“Yeah, of course. Take your time. I don’t mess around when it comes to Star Wars either,” you said. 

The two people overlapped in with a ‘what?’ and an ‘excuse me?’ Sam stared at you wide-eyed, mouth slightly agape as she looked between the two figures behind her and you. “Hold on, can you see them?” 

It took a moment for you to understand why that was odd, which was too long if you were being honest. Obviously, no one was walking around in a gown like that or pantsless for no reason. You weren’t looking at cooky guests, but rather ghosts. Did nowhere not have any spirits lingering? It seemed like every job you worked or applied to had ghosts haunting the building. Though, you supposed out of all of the places, it did make the most sense for the old mansion to be haunted. 

But Sam wasn’t a ghost, but she seemed to be able to at least hear the ones in the threshold. “Can you see them?” you asked. 

“Y-Yeah. I can.” 

“Me too.” You have been able to see ghosts since you were little. As a child, most of your friends were the collection of ghosts that inhabited your childhood home. You thought you’d eventually outgrown it, but you never did. Now, nearly everywhere you ventured, you encountered dead people. It was interesting, a little obnoxious at times, and often made you feel like a freak of nature. But the woman in front of you could see them too; that was a first. 

Sam sat speechless for a moment before she said, “You’re hired.” 

--

You weren’t sure what to expect, working in the haunted mansion. In your lifetime, you’d encountered just about every kind of ghost, so you prepared yourself for anything when Sam introduced you. The Woodstone ghosts were an eclectic bunch, comprised of ghosts spanning nearly every decade. They were interesting, to say the least. But even if they had ended up being terrible, you were just happy to be around someone who shared your ability to see them. 

Sam and Jay had set you up at the front desk, putting you in charge of checking in guests. And when it was slow, the Woodstone ghosts often found their way to you if Sam was busy. 

One ghost in particular liked to hang around you, Trevor. He was the definition of an overgrown frat brother, with a lazy smirk and incessant flirtatious attitude. Every time he sauntered up to the front desk, calling your name, you made a habit of rolling your eyes. 

“Good morning,” you greeted, tone flat as you clicked away on the computer. 

Trevor leaned against the desk, his gaze burning into the side of your face. “How you doin’?” he said, and you sighed. 

“Watching Friends again, I see?” 

He blew air from his cheeks, deflating just slightly. “I’m a little rusty, okay?” 

“Rusty? At what?” 

“This,” he pointed between you and him. “Flirting.” 

You laughed and shook your head. “Is that what’s happening?” 

“Well, yeah. My flirting with Sam is useless because she and Jay are annoyingly sweet together. But you…” Trevor trailed on, a smirk on his lips and a certain cocky attitude wrapped up in his voice. 

“I hate to burst your bubble, no-pants, but we’re not exactly… compatible.” 

He raised his brows. “Because I’m dead?” You winced slightly. You didn’t want to be the one to say it; some ghosts were really sensitive to that, but Trevor didn’t seem too bothered. He shrugged like he saw it as no big deal. “I see that as a minor roadblock.” 

As much as you wanted to roll your eyes once more and shut him down, you were impressed at his relentlessness. 

-- 

You thought after a couple of weeks of working at Woodstone, Trevor’s ploy to win you over would fade alongside his attention. But he started to hang around you even more than when you first started, and you two had created a weird but kind of nice rapport of his continued flirting, peppered with more authentic conversations sprinkled in. He told you stories of his college days and the assholes he befriended before they ended up killing him in that every house. You told him about your own school days and how you were currently floating through the motions of young adulthood, trying to figure things out. 

“Scoring a job here was nice,” you said, comfortably resting your elbows on the front desk as Trevor stood across from you, listening intently. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Sam and Jay are pretty cool.” He paused, toying with the end of his tie. “So, you think you’ll stick around?” 

A small smile fell across your lips. “I think so. Things are pretty interesting around here.” 

“Well, if you ever want them to be more interesting, let me know.”

“Oh, yeah?” you asked, raising your brows. 

“Oh yeah. I could rile up the basement ghosts, convince Thor minivans are enemy warships, you name it.” 

You laughed, shaking your head. “You are something else.” 

“Careful,” he teased. “That almost sounded like a compliment.” 

“It was supposed to,” you replied, not missing a beat. 

Trevor’s eyes widened just slightly, the smirk wiped right off his face and was replaced by something that resembled confusion with a slight fluster. Clearing his throat, he managed to say, “Oh.” You didn’t know ghosts could blush until that moment, even with their lack of blood, because Trevor’s cheeks tinted a light shade of pink as he made up some excuse to leave, mumbling something about helping Sass before he hurried away. 

You chuckled, resuming your work as another guest popped in. 

--

To say your dating life was pathetic would be a polite understatement. It was almost nonexistent, which is why when an attractive-looking person popped up on the dating app you forced yourself to get, you got your hopes up a little too high. Sam had encouraged you to go out on a date with them, excitingly helping you get ready and everything. 

You had been excited, believing it was a fresh start for you. First a new job and then a new romantic interest. Unfortunately, after waiting at the restaurant, alone, for a solid hour, you realized your dating life had quickly circled back around to being pathetic. Embarrassment didn’t quite cover how you felt as you left the restaurant and headed back home to wallow. 

The following day at work, the second you stepped inside the mansion, Sam was there with an excited energy, ready to hear all about your date. She grabbed your hand and dragged you into the kitchen before you could protest. She had made tea and had left off sweets Jay had made for the guests yesterday. The other ghosts lounged around the kitchen too, and you felt even more embarrassed to talk about your total bust of a date around all of them. 

But you slouched down in the one empty seat and let Sam push a mug of tea in front of you. 

“Tell me everything!” she insisted. 

You smiled politely but it didn’t stay on your face long before it morphed into a frown. “There’s not much to tell,” you sighed. “They stood me up.” 

“Wait, seriously?” Trevor said, seated beside you, brows furrowed. 

“No call, no apology, nothing. I sat there for an hour, like an idiot.” You rubbed your forehead, a scratchy feeling in your throat. There was no way you were going to cry in front of your boss and the ghosts. You tried to swallow down your emotions as you stared at the steam curling up from your tea. 

Sam’s frown deepened. “I’m so sorry.” 

“That is why you should meet suitors the old-fashioned way; not on the web,” Hetty said. 

“People meet online all of the time,” Sam said. “Bad dates happen, but you’ll find someone.” 

“At this rate, I’ll die alone,” you muttered before realizing your audience. “Sorry.” 

“Dying alone not so bad,” Thor said, in his own odd way to cheer you up. “Die here!”

“Thor,” Sam sighed but you laughed lightly. “I’d prefer no one else to die in the house.” 

The Viking shrugged. “Just suggestion.” 

You picked at your fingernails, the same pit that’s been in your stomach since your ruined dinner last night turned. 

Someone called from the entryway, the newest guest at the mansion. You moved to stand, but Sam waved you off. “I got it. You stay here, finish your tea.” You started to object, but she left before you could. With a huff, you sank back down in the chair. 

“You’re young, you got plenty of time. If I learned anything from being alive, dating in your twenties is usually a, what’s that phrase Jay uses?” 

Flower piped up, “A shit-show!” 

Alberta nodded. “Yeah, a shit-show. Brush it off and get back out there, while you’re still young and hot.” 

You smiled. “I’ll try. But you might be right, Hetty.” Maybe dating apps weren’t the way you were going to find someone. Old-fashioned dating sounded a little bit like a nightmare, but you figured it’d pay off more than mindless swiping through apps until another asshole stands you up. 

“I normally am,” Hetty said. 

The ghosts dispersed, going about their day-to-day while you lingered in the kitchen. Trevor stayed with you, quietly drumming his fingers against his bare knees. “At least you didn’t get catfished by a dead dude.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“I did that once,” he said. “Catfished Jay’s sister, actually. I didn’t know she was Jay’s sister at first, obviously. But, uh, yeah. It was a whole mess. I tried to possess her friend’s body, but he ended up almost dying, so it was a total bust. Then Sam started putting the iPad in the drawer.” 

You laughed, that pit in your stomach easing just a little. “That’s insane,” you said. “A ghost on a dating app. For all know that’s why my date stood me up.” That sounded a little better than them just not being interested in meeting up with you in person. “But I doubt it.” 

Trevor shrugged. “It’s possible.” 

“I think it might just be me. I’ve never been great at the whole ‘dating’ thing.” 

“I find that hard to believe,” Trevor said. “Looking like that, I’m surprised you don’t have every weekend booked.” 

You shook your head, a little flattered and a little exasperated. “Definitely not. But by the sounds of it, you did.” 

He smirked, throwing his hands up in a ‘what can I say’ gesture. “I got around, if that’s what you’re implying.”

It was odd, being around ghosts. To you, it never felt super different than hanging around livings. Besides the ability to touch them, the ghosts were every bit as real as Sam and Jay. You had started to forget that the Woodstone ghosts were just that, until they did something that knocked you back to reality. Trevor, being the most recent death, made it even harder to tell the difference. You could almost convince yourself he was living. 

“Did you ever have a serious relationship before you died?” you asked, curious. 

Trevor thought for a moment before he shook his head. “Nah. I was having too much fun being a bachelor and screwing around with my buddies to care about anything serious.” He paused, his smug attitude slipping away a little. “I didn’t know I was gonna end up dying before I could, though. I guess I would have liked to.” 

“You guess?” 

He looked a little zoned out, staring at something across the kitchen with his brows slightly knitted together. “I don’t know, I didn’t think much about it until I died.” 

Sympathy fell hard against your shoulders, and you itched to reach out to Trevor and offer some kind of comfort but you couldn’t. Instead, you said, “I’m sorry.” 

He tried to brush it off, regaining his normal composure but it didn’t shine in his eyes like it usually did. “It’s whatever. I don’t ever have to worry about going on a first date again, which is nice; those were always awful. And getting your heart broken probably sucks, so at least I’ll miss out on that.” 

“You never had your heart broken?” you asked, impressed. Even though you’ve never had a super-serious relationship, you had a tendency to fall for your crushes hard, which usually resulted in a broken heart. 

“Nope.” 

“That’s pretty lucky,” you said. If you could go the rest of your life without a broken heart, you thought that’d be nice. 

--

“It’s an interesting choice for a bachelor party, don’t you think?” Alberta said, but you had to ignore her because of the group of men you were checking in. You did agree though. The B&B was perfect for weddings and romantic weekend getaways. It was the kind of place you brought a family or your parents, not a bachelor party. But the men didn’t look like the kind to get too rowdy. The groom, in your small talk, had said they were just looking for a quiet weekend to unwind before the wedding chaos. They wanted to play video games and board games, drink whiskey, and catch whatever game was on TV. It was rather sweet, you thought. 

“You’re all set. Is there anything else I can do for you?” The groom said no before thanking you and leading his small group of friends up the stairs. They weren’t up there for long though. After they carried in their bags and settled in, the group was back in the entryway, waiting for a car to take them into town, where they planned to bar-hop for the evening. 

One of the groomsmen found himself at the front counter, handsome and smiley as he met your gaze. 

“Do you have any bar recommendations? So far, our ‘bar-crawl’ only consists of two bars,” the groomsman asked. 

You hummed in thought before replying, “The Black Dog is nice. It’s right on Main Street, if you’re heading downtown.” 

“Do you hang out there often?” 

“Sometimes.” 

“So it has pretty company then, huh?” Your eyes widened and a flustered laugh fell from your lips.

From a couple of feet away, some of the ghosts had gathered to observe the new guests. A loud scoff sounded from Trevor before he said, “Seriously?” 

You ignored him in favor of not looking crazy in front of the guests. “Oh, uh, no-” 

“Oh, come on,” the groomsman said. “I’d say you’re pretty, really pretty, actually.” 

Your face felt hot, and you tried to focus on the man in front of you, but the ghosts refused to stop talking. 

“Get a load of this guy,” Trevor huffed. 

“He’s got game, I’ll give him that,” Alberta said, to which Trevor scoffed once more. “What? Look at him.” 

“Thank you,” you said. 

The groomsman tilted his head to the side, pausing for a beat before he said, “Would it be too much to ask when you get off work?” 

“A little.” 

He held his hands up and chuckled. “Fair enough.” 

“This can’t seriously be working on you?” Trevor said. “Look at this guy! He’s got khakis and a polo on!” 

“At least he is wearing pants,” said Hetty. 

“Unbelievable.” Trevor got closer to the counter, much to your disdain. It was hard enough trying to look sane in front of the guests when the ghosts were talking to each other, let alone you. “You’re clearly out of his league-”

“Enough!” you said, raising your voice regrettably so. 

The groomsman looked at you oddly. “Whoa, sorry I-” 

“No!” you quickly cut him off. “Not you! I was, um, I-” 

“Dude, let’s go! The car’s here!” the groom shouted from the front door, beckoning the groomsman over. 

He shot you one last smile, dipping his head in goodbye as he followed his friends out of the mansion. The door closed loudly behind them before the house was drenched in cold silence. The ghosts all stood quietly as you glared. “How many times have you asked you guys not to talk to me when I’m helping guests?” 

“I don’t know if that counted as helping-” Sass started but shut his mouth when you shifted your glare onto him. 

You mumbled under your breath before you left the front counter and bee-lined for the kitchen. Sam and Jay were out for the evening, leaving the mansion in your hands. 

You only got a singular second to yourself before Trevor appeared in the room with you. Rubbing your fingers against your forehead, you asked him. “What was that?” 

He pressed his lips into a thin line for a moment before he shrugged and said, “He was flirting with you, clearly, and was out of your league like I said.” 

You stared at him, the way he fiddled with his tie and avoided your eyes. Then it hit you. “Are you jealous?” 

He blinked. “W-What? No…” By the way, his voice trailed off, you felt a terrible knot tangle in your stomach. 

“Trevor…” 

“Don’t,” he quickly said, shaking his head. “Don’t do that. I don’t…I don’t need that,” he gestured to the very clear glaze of pity in your eyes, but you couldn’t help it. You felt bad, really, terribly bad. 

A heavy breath slipped from your lips as you walked toward him, placing yourself right in front of him. His lips tugged downward in a still sadness that made your heart ache. “I’m really sorry.” 

Trevor sighed, “Don’t be. It’s…ugh.” He pressed his hands against his eyes, laughing bitterly at himself. “I’m dead,” he said. “You’re not.” 

“Yeah,” you breathed out, unsure of what else to say. Maybe if you had met him in a different life, one where you both were either alive or dead, you’d take his flirting more to heart. But that wasn’t your current situation. You existed in different realms, untouchable but on each other’s paths. You’d never described your ability as cruel until that moment. 

“And I’m an idiot,” he added. 

“No, you’re not. If things were different…” Even saying the words aloud, they felt bitter on your tongue, doing more harm than good. You could tell by the wince that twitched in Trevor’s face. 

He smiled sadly, recovering from just the implication of your unfinished sentence. “But they’re not.” He let out a breathy sigh before he nodded his head toward the kitchen door. “I’m gonna go,” he said, slipping away before you could say anything else. 

-- 

The next couple of days passed uncomfortably inside the mansion. Trevor barely showed his face, and you felt worse and worse by the hour. Hetty and Issac kept you company at the front desk, making light conversation between their reassurance that Trevor would be okay. But your guilt weighed on you. You didn’t know how to make it better; you feared you wouldn’t be able to. 

But things came to a turn on the last day the bachelor party was there. The handsome groomsman had left his number on a slip of paper that you crumbled and shoved in your pocket, heavy on your side. You watched as they pulled out of the driveway and when you were alone, you unrolled the paper with his number, staring at it so intently you missed a presence appear beside you. 

“You should call him.” Trevor’s voice started you. You yelped and clutched your heart, which brought a small smile to his lips. 

“What?”

He sighed, shifting in his shoes and looking a little unsure of himself. “That’s his number, right?” You nodded. “You should call him.” 

“Oh, no-” 

Trevor cut you off. “Why not?” Because you felt bad, but you didn’t need to say that for Trevor to understand. “Don’t not call him because of me. Seriously, I…I lied when I said I’ve never had my heart broken.” 

You peered at him, confused. “Why?” 

“Because it sounded a little pathetic to say I crush hard. I liked my recess teacher so much that I cried like a baby when I had to move to fourth grade. In high school, my girlfriend of two weeks broke up with me because she was moving schools and I faked sick for three days because I was so, embarrassingly heartbroken. It’s just how I am,” he admitted, much to your surprise. “But I’ll get over it. It’s like not it would have worked out with me being dead and all. It was stupid.” 

“It wasn’t stupid,” you said. “And you’re not pathetic. It’s sweet, actually. Really sweet.” 

Trevor shrugged. “I’m glad someone thinks so.” He pointed a finger at the paper in your hands. “Call him, okay? You deserve a good date, the old-fashioned way.” 

And so you did, the old-fashioned way.