#shoes for marriage reception

[asifndsl]

Anaar Engagement Shoes, Handcrafted Reception Shoes For Bride

At Anaar, we dream to share the beauty and skills of artisans and their work with the world. To do that, we have chosen chic sneakers as the canvas on which skilled artists can paint their pictures, but with a needle instead of a brush. We wanted to keep it unique and desirable. For those brides who love a touch of elegance for their personal fashion statement, the shoes for an engagement party with intricate sequin work will be a sight for sore eyes. The chic and ornate pairs of reception shoes come in a range of shades to ensure the bride has enough room to experiment with however she likes with her attire.

For an instance, check out the Maracon Magic engagement shoes. Anaar likes to delve into cultures from different corners of the globe. These particular engagement shoes for ladies feature the traditional Parisian style for their muse. To go perfectly with the dainty sequin embroidery; these sneakers come in a unique shade of mint that reminds one of macarons and meringue freshly baked. Moreover, these reception shoes for the bride lets the woman of the hour have a say in her dream footwear.

With customisations available in the form of pretty charms, there is always room for more character. You only need to share your preferences, and Anaar will meticulously follow the command. Another such engagement footwear is the Gatsby sneakers. It truly lives up to its name making you dream of glamorous gala nights filled with joy and splendour. The sequin work on the designer sneakers gives them a look that you can pair with anything, whether Western or traditional.

The artisan's hand embroidered the sequins with care. It is evident the final result impresses everyone with one look at the shoes. So, treat yourself to one-of-a-kind ethnic sneakers you can only find at Anaar.

[pearlywritings]

The scent of being mine

synopsis: lately your husband has been staying deep in his thoughts as if bothered by something. It's only natural you want to figure it out and help.

pairing and characters: Neuvillette x fem!reader

tw: established relationship (marriage), tiny hurt/comfort, draconian features (scenting, growling, implied sharp nails)

word count: 3k+ words

“Beloved, you are brooding. More than you usually are.”

Your comment snaps Neuvillette from his thoughts, long lashes fluttering in surprise. He blinks, primordially beautiful eyes finally focus on the document in front of him, and the man makes a frustrating discovery - he’s been staring at one single line of text for who knows how long.

“Beloved?” Your sweet voice soothes the momentary disappointment, and Iudex’s undivided attention is on you in a second. 

“Yes, my dear? My apologies, I didn’t quite catch what you said. Could you be so kind and repeat, please?”

You lower the book onto your lap, and the man can’t help but relish in the sight of you comfortably lounging on the sofa in his office at the Palais Mermonia, with your shoes neatly put near one of its legs and your legs hidden under the light embroidered plaid. Your back and side sink into multiple pillows, half of which he fetched for you previously from the second sofa, and you look pleasantly relaxed within the walls of his work space, knowing very well that he has no meetings scheduled for the day, and the only people who can enter his office are the melusines with document delivery. And who would be uncomfortable in the presence of their own ‘daughters’?

“I was saying that you are brooding. And It won't be superfluous to note your sour mood too,” you nod in the window’s direction, where the sky is cloudy and gloomy. It has been this way for a couple of days already. “I wasn’t bringing it up since I thought you were simply a bit stressed, but after observing you for some time, I am sure there’s something on your mind that’s been bothering you immensely.”

Neuvillette exhales deeply. How could he ever hide anything from the woman he’s been married to for so long? Not that he ever tried, but subconsciously he sometimes tends to push his own worries aside not to make you fret. Besides, usually it’s not something of a big deal…

Watching the thoughts overtaking his mind again, you grab the bookmark from the armrest and soon the closed book takes its place, at the same time as you push the plaid off. Not caring to put the shoes on, you make a quick way to the grand doors to turn the key left in the hole from the inside. But changing your mind a little, you take a hold of a handle instead and crack the door slightly open, enough for the melusine at the reception to hear you.

“Sedene, sweety, Monsieur Neuvillette is taking a small break.”

You can’t quite see her perking up in her booth, but you know she is aware of what that means.

“Thank you for informing me, Madame. Would you like anything to drink or eat? I could send someone to put an order in whatever restaurant you’d like.”

“Much appreciated, but we’ll be fine.”

You hear her hum in understanding and only then close the door and lock it, turning the key two times.

“Now…” glancing back at your husband, you slowly walk back to your previous place of resting, but making it past the sofa and then around the desk, stopping right at his side. Neuvillette lifts his head, looking at you, and immediately pushes the chair back to make room. Gloved hands take a hold of your waist when you step closer and help you settle down onto his lap. One stays gingerly on your hip, the other is placed upon your knees, as you adjust your position, turning half-around to face him. Mesmerizing eyes with slitted irises stare at you with hardly-veiled adoration, and for a moment it almost fools you into thinking that nothing is wrong. Until he inhales and white eyebrows furrow slightly.

“Neuvi, what’s going on? Is it something I can assist you with?”

The man leans forward, pressing his face to your neck, silky locks of his fringe tickling you when he releases a breath. Your fingers find the back of his head, softly scratching the scalp, making him groan in satisfaction. His own digits flex, and you think you feel the claws digging slightly into your flesh through the dark material of his gloves and the skirt of your own clothes, and you let the dragon be a tiny bit greedy in expressing his affections.

“It’s not something I thought would bother me,” you hear him murmur into your neck. Instead of rushing to ask him to elaborate, you encourage him to take his time with a soft touch, gently following the pointy shape of his ear with your fingertip. The man shivers, but quickly relaxes, leaning into your body a bit more.

“Why logically I understand I’m in the wrong, but on an instinct level it doesn’t give me rest. Remember the celebration Lady Furina threw three days ago?”

Ah, of course you remember. It was a nice little feast the Archon organized to mark another successful staging of hers, to which your husband and you were obviously invited. You can’t, however, recall anything particular that could upset Neuvillette. He wasn’t offered anything to taste he didn't enjoy - had his own supply of fresh water even; he had no cases to worry about, having finished everything rather important beforehand, and he was not engaged in any interactions he could potentially be uncomfortable with. Maybe it was something related to you? However, you can’t think of anything: most of the time you spent conversing with Furina, discussing her next outstanding and grand performance, or dancing with your beloved, happily twirling in his embrace. Sure, other people approached you too, but…oh. Wait, there was something.

“Do you mean the celebration during which that opera performer from Li Yue was flirting with me?”

Immediately his body tenses and a low sound, kind of sounding like a growl, escapes his strained throat. He quickly composes himself though, once you drop your hand from his head to his back, drawing circles there.

“...I apologize for that.”

“Please don’t, I don’t mind a bit of jealousy,” you assure him, and the man finally leans back, looking at you with those fairytale eyes.

“You think it was jealousy?”

“Well, maybe right now it was just a bit of frustration, but back then I think it was jealousy,” Neuvilette hums, lowering his gaze, processing the information. You meanwhile decide to ask more. “But what sparked it? You know I am yours and that no human will ever be able to steal me from you.”

“Ah, my love, I am fully aware of that,” gloved palm leaves your knee and cups your cheek instead. “I know all that, but…but what I felt is hard to explain in words.”

“Try,” you encourage, turning your head and kissing his palm, “I’ll get it.”

“Alright,” with a sigh he lets his fingertips outline the contour of your jaw and travel down the side of your neck, sending a pleasurable sensation down your back. “I suppose I should start with what happened before, when we were still back home. You looked so ravishing and regal - a true gem to an eye, - and I just couldn’t help but let some of my scent linger on you.”

Which is absolutely fine, you love doing the same for him.

“Keeping that in mind I felt all those strange emotions wringing my heart, as he was giving you compliments, especially about the scent, not realizing it’s mine. And then more and more.”

As he doesn’t find what more to say, you stare at him, trying to analyze the information. After a couple of minutes of silence, during which you absent-mindedly braided a little braid out of his straight lock, you decide to summarize.

“So… If I understood you correctly, it felt upsetting that, basically, he caught the whiff of you on me, yet didn’t stop his attempts to hit on me. Am I right?”

“Exactly,” a small smile graces his pale lips, and Iudex presses a delicate kiss to your shoulder. “I could not have worded it better.”

“Hmm… Now I see why you are torn. It is annoying for sure, but it’s not like an ordinary human could know of draconian peculiar properties.”

He nods, thumbing at the pulse point on your neck, staring a little bit past you. His state is saddening, really, even though a tiny slither of pride infiltrates your heart - knowing your husband wants the world to know you are his as much as you want to claim the same about him… Would’ve made you purr if you were a feline.

You shiver when Neuvillette brings his face close again, soft lips pressing to the side of your neck.

“You are so dear to me, my love…” he breathes in a way that makes your heart skip a beat, voice full of unbridled devotion, something not many can hear from this stoic man throughout their whole life. “There are days when I can’t bear the thought of you not being close to me, I overcome with desire to be in your presence, to hold you in my arms, to listen to your divine voice… When you call my name, I want to bring everything I have to your feet.”

“But you already do so,” you cup his cheeks, kissing his forehead. “You don’t have to say all of it - you sound like you are apologizing, like you are trying to excuse your natural behavior. Don’t do it, please. You are so precious to me, I’d be damned if I ever felt unnerved by something like this.”

“I apologize if it sounded like this,” he sighs, long lashes flattering close, when you proceed to kiss over his eyelids. “I just meant to express how thankful I am that you chose me.”

“Oh, Neuvi,” you chuckle, kissing the bridge of his nose and when the tip of it. “I adore when you are so affectionate in private. As for the public display, if we return to the topic of scent… I think I could figure something out for the both of us. If you trust my judgment, that is.”

“How can I not?” Those eyes are staring back at you, bottomless pools swirling with wonder and elation. “Only if you truly want this.”

“I do,” your lips hover dangerously close to his. “And I will find the way.”

Soft thuds rhythmically yet quite leisurely cut through the lofty noises of the Court of Fountaine, catching the attention of the passersby. One hit of an elegant cane against the pavement equals two steps of yours, as you and your husband walk through the main square of the city. Your appearance - no matter together or by yourself - always gathers attention, and you could bet that if Fontaine didn’t have a law prohibiting photography of executives without their permission, your picture would’ve adorned tomorrow’s copy of The Steambird.

And you are a sight to behold - your hand resting in the crook of his elbow, gloves matching perfectly his today’s cravat of choice, jewelry specifically picked to mirror the beauty of their wearer’s partner, clothes tailored to clearly be a ‘couple outfit’... It is pretty evident that this outing is planned, if the Iudex’s absence from the Palais Mermonia didn’t serve as a clue.

You hold no conversation, rather relishing in the warm rays of sunlight (you did though tease Neuvillette upon stepping outside that his mood seemed to improve). Despite looking like it’s you who is clutching onto the man and him leading you somewhere, it’s completely vice versa. Your beloved has absolutely no idea what kind of ‘surprise’ he is soon to experience, but your previous words keep his mind at rest - you found a solution for his concern.

As a result, his high spirits are pretty apparent to the people who know him well. Or the melusines, if one is being accurate, who approach you two along the way with warm words of greetings and cute waves of their hands, which brightens Neuvillette’s features more evidently.

“I think we should soon visit the Merusea Village,” you suggest after bidding goodbye to Tristane. “And do a little gathering for our girls who work here, in the city. I am sure they have many stories to share with us.”

“I would really like that,” Neuvillette's smile is a heart-warming sight. You can only hope that you’ll get to see it more after today. “How about we start planning tomorrow after work?”

“That would be wonderful! I can’t wait to write an invitation to every single one. And to the village too.”

“Then it’s on you as always,” he agrees without objection, leaning a little to subtly kiss your temple when you turn the corner. Letting out a soft chuckle, you give him a fond look, and then focusing back on the street.

It’s barely a couple of minutes later when your partner sees you perk up. Trying to pinpoint what caught your eye, the man scans the signboards of the shops and boutiques lining up at both sides of yours. Jewelry? No, he doesn’t think so - you adorn each other with fine gemstones regularly. Clothes? Doubtful, given you’ve just received a couple of new outfits a week before. Maybe it’s-

You disturb these wandering thoughts, tugging on his elbow to catch his attention. Looking at you and then following the direction of your raised hand, Neuvillette lifts his eyes to read the signboard above the shop you’ve stopped in front of.

“Palais des parfums”

“So,” you start when he gives you a questioning look, “it’s a perfumery, yes. And my suggestion is the following - let’s choose a scent we could wear together. Before you get concerned about it becoming too popular, because we will use it, this shop has an option of creating something personal. We can just pay a little more to make it exclusive.”

“The same…scent?” Your husband hums, touching his chin in thought. This actually sounds quite good - created by a human master, it is to be perceived by humans, and by utilizing one fragrance on you both it will be made clear that the two of you are spouses. Not to mention the newspaper that will spread the fact for others to know. “My dear, that’s a marvelous idea.”

“Really?” A wide smile lifts the corners of your lips.

“Really. I like it a lot,” he assures you with a smile of his own. “And I do favor the possibility of making perfume specifically for us. How did you know though, my love?”

“Have done my research. And already spoke to the vendor before. Furthermore, I think we can order the creation of two perfumes. One for every day, and one for grand events where our presence is required.”

“I see you’ve done your research indeed,” his words are soft and gaze is full of admiration. It’s so hard to resist and not kiss him right in the middle of the street, yet let your fingertips gently scratch his forearm.

“I promised my husband a solution, didn’t I? Couldn’t disappoint you.”

“You can never disappoint me, if anything you astonish me every single day of our lives. Shall we get inside?”

“We shall. Just please, beware, there are a lot of fragrances mixed in the air. I am afraid your nose will be assaulted just like mine was.”

“I can bear with it, beloved. I would be a coward of a husband, if I turned back after the amazing work my wife did,” your cheeks heat up at his praise and you lightly dig your covered nails into his arm.

“Oh, stop it, no need to be so sweet, I already understood your appreciation for this,” your eyes motion to his hand resting on the hilt of the cane and fingers joyfully tapping against the wood. With a barely audible chuckle, the man unhooks your arms, wrapping his around your waist, and steps forward, reaching for the handle.

A soft chime caresses his ears, as the maddening mix of scents hits him right in the nose. Glancing to the side to check on you, he notices how you instantly switch to breathing through your mouth and follows your example. It, thankfully, gets better.

The shop owner is not hard to find, a sweet lady in her late 50’s welcomes you with a glint in her eyes upon recognizing you, which soon is replaced by the look of surprise when she sees your companion.

“Good afternoon, Monsieur, Madame, how can I help you?”

“Good afternoon, Mrs Deschamps,” you greet her with a smile, “I came by two days ago, remember?”

“Yes, yes, how could I forget our dear Madame? You were curious about my perfumes and if I do personal orders.”

“Right! This is my husband,” you motion to the man still courteously holding your waist, who bows in greeting.

“Pleasure to be meeting you.”

“O-oh! How could I not know you and your husband? Your wedding was the event of the century!”

“Haha, you flatter us,” you chuckle merrily, covering your mouth. “We are here to put in an order. We’d love to buy a newly crafted perfume. However, we have a couple of conditions…”

It’s almost evening when the doorbells chime again, marking your departure. Once again walking side by side and with arms linked, Neuvillette feels an almost primordial satisfaction. These hours spent in that stuffy, smelly box of a shop will be absolutely worth it when your order is complete. While he does feel the inevitable approach of a runny nose after test-smelling way too many fragrances, and it doesn’t feel like he left work today at all, as he was handling legal documents relied to the exclusivity of the product, he doesn’t regret a single mora spent and to be spent in the future for this.

Soft thuds once again cut through the sounds of the city, and they are gently lulling your mind. Maybe your head hurts just a little bit, but it pales in comparison to the invested state of your husband and how much evident fun he had in meticulously choosing the right aromatic notes to your future shared scent.

You can’t wait to help him apply it every single morning to come and get the same treatment in return. This is going to be a new, hopefully a long-staying option to your usual scenting routine.

taglist: @meimeimeirin

[hangmanssunnies]

Heat To Boil

Summary: After a failed Tinder date, you go to hang out with your friend Jake "Hangman" Seresin. When you get to his house, you unexpectedly find him with a baby, and it is a sight that rewires something in your head. Jake needs a baby of his own. Right now — like yesterday, actually. And that is a task you would be more than willing to help with; now, you just need to find the courage to bring it up.

Pairings: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Word count: 9k

AO3 Link

Warnings: 18+ Only, Friends to lovers, baby fever, smut, P in V, Oral, Hangman with a baby (deserves its own warning)

Author's note: The attorneys at work keep bringing their babies in and letting me hold them, and @top-hhun has done absolutely nothing to discourage the subsequent baby fever I've been dealing with. Anyways, that's where this fic came from. I hope you enjoy this. My inbox is always open if you want to let me know your thoughts. Reblogs with your thoughts, opinions, and tags are gold to me. I love reading through them.

You had become friends with Jake unexpectedly some years ago, hitting it off at your mutual friend's wedding. Part of you had, of course, hoped the attractive blonde aviator would be interested in you, maybe in a romantic sense, but it never came to fruition. He shipped out the week after the wedding, but the easy rapport you carried with him started with sharing jokes about how trashed other people got at the reception, and eventually developing into a true and close friendship. 

It was for the best because the more you got to know Jake, it became clear to you that he didn't want the same things that you did. He was focused on his career and didn't have time for a partner. When he did talk about settling down, it was never in an authentic way, more joking that he was waiting to swoop in if Coyote's marriage fell apart or that his Mama would set him up with a nice southern belle who wanted to give her twelve grandkids. Jake would claim he was too busy for a relationship, away from home too much to be steady. However, none of that seemed to stop him from finding time for you, which is probably why you hadn't been able to completely repress your feelings for him despite some valiant efforts. 

Just today, after a failed lunch date with someone from Tinder, you texted Jake disheartened. He hadn't hesitated first to ask if you were okay and then invited you over for dinner to tell him all about it. He had even promised to cook you whatever you wanted. A special treat guaranteed to make you feel better, considering Jake's superb culinary skills. 

You walk into Jake's house without knocking or ringing the bell, knowing he left the door unlocked in anticipation of your arrival. After securing the front door's lock into place, you toe off your shoes, making sure to set them neatly in line with the others there. Jake's home is clean and tidy, just like it always is; the organization of the entry is no exception. You know from the smells and sounds wafting towards you that he must still be cooking, which is odd because he's almost always done by the time you show up. 

Venturing further into the house you see him, standing in the kitchen, with a baby strapped to his chest. It's an unexpected sight, and you're frozen by it. Jake's in a casual white teeshirt, jeans, and a dark navy blue sling with a camo pattern wrapped tightly around him, securing a tiny infant in place against his broad chest. His hair is fluffy like it often is on his days off, and the golden strands fall across his forehead. Seeing it like this always creates an instinctual desire to run your fingers through it. However, you can hardly even process that thought because you're so distracted by the bundle on his chest. Music is playing on his record player, and he is humming along. 

Jake suddenly stops the humming, and the prep he is doing, looking down at the baby. After a pause, a smile pulls at the edges of his lips, his eyes crinkle before he drops a kiss on the infant's head. And it's like everything is right. Jake with a baby seems so natural. The fact that he exists any other way than with a baby in his arms every day feels wrong. Your heart starts beating harder in your chest, and a thought pops into your head, instantly taking deep root: Jake needs a baby of his own. Right now — like yesterday, actually. 

You don't know what sound you must have made, but Jake looks up and finally notices you standing in the hallway. He doesn't appear at all startled as a wide grin spreads across his face as he greets you, "Howdy there, Doll!"  

"You have a baby," you say stupidly in an entirely delayed response. 

"Yeah, this little guy is Jackson. Coyote and the Mrs wanted a date day, so I offered to watch the baby for them. They were supposed to be here two hours ago to pick him up, but I'm sure they just got caught up." Jake laughs and presses another kiss to Jackson's head. Before continuing on, "I hope you don't mind."

"No, I don't mind," you manage to breathe out, unable to tear your eyes off Jake or even pretend you're not staring. He quirks an eyebrow at you but otherwise doesn't comment. After he gestures for you to join him, he returns to the cutting board in front of him. You are transfixed; when you sit down at the bar in the kitchen, it occurs to you that you should probably say something and not just stare like an idiot. "Do you want me to take him?"

"I think he is just fine here," Jake says, examining the sleeping baby strapped to his chest again. Jackson has hardly moved since you showed up, clearly passed out, not disturbed by the music or any of the kitchen sounds. 

"At least let me help finish cooking then?" You request. 

"No, Ma'am. Bubba and I have this dinner taken care of. I did pick up that wine you like from the store. Maybe you can open it up for us?" 

Entering the kitchen, you pull out two wine glasses from a cabinet. Opening the fridge you see your preferred wine stocked, as well as a few of your other favorite drinks stored there. Warmth blooms in your chest that Jake picked up things for you when he was at the store last. It was touching that he would take care to buy something he would never touch but getting it anyway just to have beverages you prefer on hand. After pouring the wine, you set one glass next to Jake's cutting board, making sure it's in easy reach for him. 

"Thank you," he says appreciatively. You sigh and lean against him, pressing your face into the bicep of his arm, careful not to disturb Jackson or the sling as you do. Closing your eyes, you breathe him in, looking for the subtle cedar scent of his cologne to soothe you. However, only a hint of it tickles your nose, the cedar not as strong as it usually is. Today, Jake smells more like clean laundry and his natural musk than anything else. You are surprised to find it still does the trick in helping settle your nerves, though. Jake hums but doesn't protest your closeness, instead asking, "Long day?" 

You don't answer with words, just humming noncommittally against his arm. You leave your face pressed there for a moment longer. "Not enough wine to talk about it yet," you eventually say into his arm before pulling away. Settling on the other side of the counter again, you take a long drink of the wine you poured. Deciding to admire Jake again, you ask, "How was your day?"

"It was pretty good. Javy dropped Jackson off this morning. We had tummy time, went on a walk, and to the grocery store to get things for dinner. Then we got a little cranky, so we rocked in the lazy boy for a while." You took a moment to picture Jake doing these activities and can't decide which is most swoon worthy. Jake is always swoon worthy, of course, but knowing that he was caring for a baby while doing it feels like an extra kick to the stomach or maybe ovaries. 

"And?" You ask him, taking another drink of your wine and pillowing your face on your palm. 

"And what?" Jake asks. 

"What else did you and Jackson do today? I want to hear every detail." 

Jake gives into your request easily. Starting his description of the day over, he tells you how even though he has babysat before, the Machados were still anxious to leave Jackson alone here when they dropped him off that morning. Jake told you about tummy time, which toys they liked and which were uninteresting. How long their walk was, and what they saw. He told you about the old woman who fawned over them in the store and how they helped her with getting her groceries to the car. It was endearing that Jake used the first person plural 'we' as if he and Jackson were a team with equal agency in their day's activities. It was especially cute when Jake told you about the tantrum they had thrown earlier in the afternoon as if he had been crying right along with his godson. 

Just as dinner was finished and you were setting the table, Jackson woke up and started to get fussy. Jake cooed to the baby affectionately, leaving to the guest room, where Javy had stuffed almost a car full of supplies for Jake to watch Jackson. Some of the just-in-case supplies included toys and clothes Jackson wouldn't even be able to use until he was at least a year old.  

When Jake comes back, both he and Jackson are wearing different clothes. Jake is in a soft green shirt and sweats, while Jackson is now wearing a giraffe onesie. He has the baby propped on his hip and doesn't offer you any explanation aside from that they had an accident. Then he sees that you have plated and set everything for dinner at the dining room table, and he offers a soft thank you. 

You watch as he balances Jackson on his hip and starts following the written out directions for making a bottle that's taped to his fridge. Jake isn't someone who struggles, and you know that this is something that he is fully capable of doing, but you also can't help but think that it would be easier for him if he had two free hands. So, you gently pull Jackson from his arms and into your own instead. 

The baby blinks up at you, his eyes still soft and sleepy. He babbles a bit of nonsense but otherwise makes no protest at you. Jackson has the same brown eyes and skin tone as his father. Even with his chubby cheeks, you can tell that the little boy is going to be Coyote's mini-me. The similarities in their appearance are so close it's like the universe had just hit copy and paste. 

He is so cute you can't stop the grin that stretches across your lips when Jackson snuggles into you. One of his hands starts grabbing at your shirt's fabric while he absently gnaws at his other one. The little boy completely steals your attention as you walk around the living room and dining room with him. Asking him how he feels about his day with his Uncle Jake, pausing for his babbling like they were real answers. Jake comes up behind you several minutes later, setting a steady hand on the small of your back.

 "Here, let me take him," Jake mutters practically in your ear while reaching for Jackson. 

"No," you protest, turning away from Jake's reach. "You've had him all day. I've only gotten to hold him for a few minutes." 

"Now, darling," Jake drawls. 

"Don't darling me."

"Doll," He says 

"Don't Doll me either." You snap, though the aggression of it is completely manufactured. 

"Fine, fine," Jake says, holding his hands up. "You can have him for a few more minutes, but then it's my turn again."  

"How is that fair?" 

"It's fair because he is my godson." 

You pout at Jake, and he pouts back." I can't believe you're going to be a baby hog like this. Don't you know sharing is caring?" 

"Jackson isn't a rental car, sweetheart. Can't just hand him out to anybody."

"So what? You don't trust me with him?" 

"No," Jake says, suddenly dropping all of his dry, teasing tone. "Of course, I trust you with him. Of course, I trust you."

Jake steps closer when he says this, crowding a bit into your personal space. His sea glass green eyes hold you in place, and you don't think you imagine that they flick downwards, that he has his sights set on your lips, that Jake could be considering kissing you. However, a breath later, he is swooping Jackson out of your arms and into his own, quickly back peddling. 

"You can have the baby back after I feed him, okay? I don't want to risk him throwing up on that pretty blouse you've got on." 

"Kidnaper! Baby Snatcher!" You half gasp, half yell, and start to chase after Jake as he runs away, holding Jackson close and carefully but still managing to evade you.  

You're both laughing, and Jackson has started joyfully screeching as well when the doorbell rings, startling all three of you. Jake hands Jackson to you wordlessly before going to check who's at the door. It only takes a minute for him to come back with Coyote in tow. Who immediately rushes to sweep his baby from your arms and press kisses all over his cherub face. 

After Javy examined his son to ensure nothing was out of sorts, he handed Jackson back to you to hold while he and Jake packed up all of his stuff and moved the car seat. This was only after he made a sly comment about how good you looked with a baby in your arms, though. 

When you are alone with Jackson again, you take a moment to admire yourself in the mirror hanging on the wall. It wasn't such a hard thing for you to imagine holding a baby, and it looking normal, like something right, especially when you start to picture one with Jake's features or one that would take more after you, possibly even some sweet mix. The feeling of casual want that started from seeing Jake when you first arrived suddenly twists into an unexpected ache and intense need. 

You expect it to let up, but it doesn't. Rather, the feeling smolders in you, burning hotter and hotter until it feels slightly consuming. Seeing Jake hug and kiss Jackson goodbye, promising they would spend another day together soon, nearly does you in. Heating your feelings from a low simmer to a roaring boil. 

When you and Jake finally sit down to actually have dinner, it gets a little hotter with every sip of wine you take. Every time that Jake smiles and his eyes crinkle around the edges, the way he asks about your failed date with the perfect mix of sympathy and care, even the way he reheated dinner, all adds to the fire. As Jake is starting to put away the leftovers from dinner, refusing to let you help, you can't keep it in anymore, and you boil over. 

"Jackson was so precious," you say, casually swirling the bit of drink you have left around in the glass.  

"Little mans is so fun. I love him. It's always a treat to babysit," 

"You were really great with him today." 

"Aw, thanks Doll. Now, what do you want to do with the rest of the night? Play a game, watch a movie? We can do anything you want."

"Anything I want?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jake says easily as he pops the lids of his pyrex container into place.  

"I want a baby." You say in a quick breath. You nearly slap your hand over your mouth in horror that had just jumped out of your mouth. You really haven't had enough wine to be this bold, but then again, maybe you were a little intoxicated on having seen Jake be so domestic. 

"What?" he asks with a laugh, probably thinking he misheard you. You grip the edge of the cool countertop trying to steady your nerves and prevent your hands from shaking. 

"Jake, I want a baby," you tell him more slowly, making sure each word comes out clearly. 

"No, you don't," he laughs, shaking his head. He starts tossing dirty dishes into the sudsy water of the sink and stacking up the food containers to put in the fridge. Jake turns away from you before saying, "I thought you've said you didn't want kids."

"It's complicated," you explain softly. "Are people not allowed to change their minds about things anymore?" 

"Oh, so are you debating or like —"

"I don't really know how to say this more clearly. I want to have a baby with you, Jake." 

He freezes. You see his shoulders tense, and he stares into the fridge for a long moment, slowly finishing storing the leftovers. When he closes the fridge, he still doesn't look at you immediately. 

"You want me to be the father of a child you have? You want to have my baby?" Jake asks you incredulously. You gulp, now feeling entirely too vulnerable to speak, so you just nod in agreement instead. Jake's eyes are piercing, and his body language is tense as he stands in front of the sink again. He heaves a heavy sigh, his lips flattening into a tight line. Then he scrubs his hands over his face before narrowing his eyes at you, "This is not a very funny joke." 

"It's not a joke, Jake. I want a baby, and I know you would be a good father." When Jake's demeanor still doesn't change, you continue on hurriedly. "I think we could do the whole platonic coparent thing easily enough. We get along so well, and we're already such good friends." 

There is a long pause where he does not say anything, turning on the sink, waiting for the water to heat, and sudsing up a scrub daddy sponge. Only once this task is started does he answer you in a very stoic, perfectly level tone, "No, I don't think I can do that. I can't just sleep with you."

"Oh, well. I see. Forget that I asked, please." You mutter, embarrassed but trying to not let the sting of rejection affect your tone. You knew that this could backfire, but you didn't think it would feel this bad. Feel like the pit of your stomach falling so low you are almost nauseous. 

"I'm sorry, Dolly." 

"It's okay, Jake, really. It's just the wine getting to me."

"Are you going to ask someone else?" 

"What?" 

"Are you going to ask someone else to give you a baby?" Jake asks in a gruff tone. 

You wouldn't actually, you wouldn't want one without Jake. In fact, this urge to have a child came from seeing him. However, you didn't know how else to play off your out-of-pocket request than to commit to the bit. Nonchalantly, you say, "Maybe." 

"I could help you find someone," he offers. 

"Please, Jake. It's okay you said no. You don't have to try and fix my situation."

He practically ignores you, asking, "What about Rooster?"

"I'm sure that I would have fun with the process," you say. Jake, who has focused himself with dedication on the dishes, looks up at you sharply. He quickly looks away again as you continue, "I'd be worried about having a baby that's born with a full mustache, though. So, no, thank you." 

"I'm sure Fritz would be happy to help you out." 

"No —"

"Harvard—" 

"No Hangman. Stop," You say much harder with emphasis, cutting him off and leaving no room for argument. 

"I tell you no for one thing, and suddenly I'm Hangman to you?"

"No, you're Hangman when you disregard the people around you, no matter what they say. You're Hangman when you decide something's a mission objective, and you refuse to let it go. This isn't your problem to fix or one to pawn off on one of your friends." 

"You made it my problem when you just asked me to give you a baby," Jake says, frustrated. Roughly scrubbing the dishes, rinsing, and setting them in the drying rack. 

"Well, the moment you said no, it's not your problem anymore. I'm absolving you of responsibility. It's my problem, and I will find someone for myself to put up with me, at least for a night." You joke, trying to lighten the mood again, not wanting to ruin the whole night from this mishap. Jake doesn't react more than his face darkening significantly, a deep frown pulling at his lips as he rinses the last dish and closes the dishwasher. 

"Put up with you?" He asks, his eyebrows knitting together. Jake reaches for a dish towel to dry off his hands, and you're momentarily distracted by the thick fingers and web of veins tracing up his arm. It's a better sight than meeting Jake's intense eyes, those eyes that can stare you down and leave no room for you to hide. 

"I mean, I know I'm a lot, but I think even I can get someone to fuck me once or twice. If I want and am very lucky, I'll only need one night. There are also other options, of course, like sperm banks and adoption. Let's just let it go. Okay?" When you don't get an immediate response, you glance at Jake once more. He is staring at you, but it's not a look you like. He's looking at you like you are a problem to be fixed, a puzzle to solve, an item to take off his to-do list. So you force a chuckle out and smile.  

"I don't think I want to. Actually, I can't let this conversation go." 

"We have to," you insist. 

"Why?"

"Because Jakers, it doesn't have anywhere else to go. I expressed a stupid desire without thinking. It was awkward, and that's okay. It doesn't have to stay that way, though. Now we laugh and forget it. There is no other option." 

"A lot. Put up with. Stupid desires," Jake scoffs the words as he rounds the kitchen island. He spins the bar stool chair you're sitting on by the back, turning you to face him. Then he sets his hands on the marble countertop on either side of you, effectively boxing you in. Even sitting on the tall bar stool, you have to tilt your head a bit to look up at him. When your eyes meet again, the green isn't as soft or kind as you're expecting. "I don't like how you're talking about yourself right now." 

"I'm just being honest. I'm taxing to deal with; people get tired of me. My past relationships have certainly taught me that I'm only desirable under the right conditions. And I am stupid. I just ruined our whole night because I couldn't keep my mouth shut. What kind of normal person asks one of their best friends to fuck a baby into them unprompted?"

"Oh wow, I'm not even sure where to start with all that." Jake breathes. You can't take seeing his furrowed brow and disappointed frown. So instead, you examine his right arm that's stretched by you, mapping out the moles and freckles there. "You've developed a warped sense of the truth, Doll."  

It's your turn to scoff and roll your eyes. When you do, the arm you've been studying shifts, and Jake cups your cheek. Gently, he urges your face to turn back towards his, and a calloused thumb sweeps across your cheekbone. "Listen to me good now. The things you want and desire they ain't stupid, and neither are you. You're not too much. You're just enough."

"Thank you, Jake." You whisper. And while his words are kind, you don't really believe them.  

"Don't say thank you."

"What else am I supposed to say?"

"Say you believe me and mean it," Jake urges you. 

"I don't want to lie to you. That's not who we are, that's not our friendship," You say. Jake's hand drops from your cheek, and he steps back quickly as if he's been burned. After you had been so surrounded by him, you nearly reach out to urge him close again. Running a hand through his hair, you can tell he's resisting the urge to pace. 

"Is that our friendship, one built on honesty?" 

"I thought so." 

"Then I've failed you, and I've failed us because it's not." 

"Jake, what are you talking about?" You ask him, confused. He shakes his head at you and doesn't respond, instead backing away further until he is abandoning you in the kitchen. Swiftly, you stand to follow him, "Where are you going?" 

"I'm leaving." 

"And going where? This is your house," you remind him. You've caught up to him in the doorway of his bedroom, where he's grabbing a hat and his wallet. "I'm sorry I ruined tonight, and I'll leave. You have to be honest with me before I do, though. I have to know we're going to be okay tomorrow." 

"I can't," Jake says tersely, not meeting your eyes and attempting to sidestep you in the doorway. 

"I was wrongly under the impression there wasn't anything you couldn't do, Hangman. But I guess we are finding a lot of things you just can't do tonight, aren't we?" You aren't expecting the little lash out of a taunt to get you anywhere. Jake is normally always calm, cool, and collected, acting with decisive precision. However, nearly as soon as you've finished speaking, Jake's hands are on your arms, and he backs you up until you gently hit the wall of the hallway across from his door. 

"You're asking for more self-restraint than I have, Doll." He warns roughly. The sudden movement doesn't make you back down like he was probably expecting. Instead, the rush makes you feel emboldened. 

"I don't care. I can accept you don't want a baby with me, that you don't want to fuck me. I can accept that you want to force me to talk, but I can't accept you making me question our friendship." 

"Oh god. You really don't understand. My honesty is not going to make this better," he warns. 

"Yes, I do. Whatever it is, please tell me. I can think of many things you could be referring to, like that I'm not attractive to you. How I would make a terrible mother. Maybe I'm not a good friend. Or you don't actually like spending time with me. Whatever it is, you have to tell me. I've never thought you would lie to me. So, I need to know, or it's going to drive me crazy." 

"There you are, all twisted up again," Jake sighs. 

"And whose fault is that?" You snap back. Jake still has you pressed against the wall, so you set your hands on his broad chest with the intention of pushing him away. However, he doesn't budge; in fact, he does the opposite, coming even closer so he is flush against you. You refuse to tilt your chin to look up at him as he looms, rather only lifting your eyes in a cold stare. "I shouldn't be surprised that you're going to leave me hanging to dry, but you could at least —"

You don't get to finish the thought because a hand has snaked to hold the side of your neck, thumb tucking under your chin, turning your face upwards to Jake's waiting lips. The first brush of his lips on yours doesn't line up quite right, but that doesn't stop your breath from catching. Shifting to get a better angle, Jake applies two more feather light kisses. Your hands, which are still resting on his chest, creep up, and you loop them around his shoulders, using the leverage to lift higher on your toes and get closer to him. 

This prompts him to deepen his next kiss, lips moving harder against yours. When you open your mouth wider in invitation, Jake's tongue traces along your bottom lip but doesn't dive in. You whine when Jake pulls away to take a breath. 

"Forgive me, Doll, I should've asked first." 

"Asked what?" You wonder, not moving your eyes away from his lips and strategizing how to get them back on yours. You think if you could just get a little higher, you would be able to kiss him without Jake needing to bend down so much. 

"May I kiss you?" He asks. 

"Yes, please." You answer immediately. You tug your hold on his shoulders, hoping it will urge him to get right back to it. Jake doesn't, though. His hand shifts from your neck to cup your cheek again, his other leaving the wall to settle on your waist. 

"Can I touch you?"

"Yes, Jake." His hand traces up your side from your waist and back down again in what is a soothing motion. It's too soft and delicate for what you want right now, though, so you tug on his neck again, pressing your chest into his. He gives in this time, molding his lips to yours once more. 

When his tongue meets yours, a low rumble emulates from Jake's chest, and the sound sends a new wave of arousal coursing through you. Reaching up, you push off Jake's hat, not caring where it falls, only that it's no longer in your way. When you thread your fingers into his hair, it's smooth and silky, providing no resistance when you tug it. 

"Tell me what you want, Doll," Jake says when your lips part again. 

"You. I want you," you whimper, tugging his hair again. A wide grin breaks across Jake's face, and his eyes crinkle around the edges. He tucks his face into your neck, and you can still feel him smiling. 

"What else do you want?" He questions. When his lips brush a spot that makes you stretch your neck to give him easier access, he nips it lightly. You stumble, coming up with a response, just sighing his name as he finds another spot to bite. "Come on now, you said it so pretty earlier. Tell me again."

Once his request processes through your lust filled brain, you push on Jake's shoulders once more. This time, he doesn't resist, backing away from you and creating some space between your heated bodies. Sagging against the wall, you try to catch your breath while examining Jake. His hair is disheveled now, some of it falling across his forehead. 

"You said no, you don't want that with me. You don't want this with me," You answer, finally dropping your gaze to examine the grain of the hardwood floor near your feet. Confusion at this sudden turn in attitude from him settles over you as your head clears. One of Jake's hands enters your field of vision, turned upwards in an offering. "Come sit, we need to set some things straight." 

Taking Jake's hand, he curls his fingers with yours and gently tugs you back through the doorway of his room. With his direction, you perch on the edge of his four poster bed. Jake presses a kiss to the back of your hand and lets it go to settle on the accent chair that's in the corner. 

"We'll be honest, right?" You say hesitantly, already missing the feeling of Jake's hand in yours. 

"Yes. I'll be honest." Jake answers reassuringly before continuing, "From the beginning, I never wanted to be friends with you. 

"You didn't?" 

"Nope," he says, popping the p. "I never wanted to be friends, and then once we were friends, I was stuck. You didn't seem to want the same things as I did, and I'm not the kind of man to complain about the friend zone."

"I haven't friend you zoned you," you say, scandalized at the suggestion. 

"Just earlier tonight, you asked me to have a baby with you, platonically," Jake deadpans. 

"Because I can't conceptualize you wanting me any other way." 

"I want you. I've always wanted you, but not platonically, baby." 

Baby. Jake was a casual sweet name user, there was doll, sweetheart, honey, darling, those all were commonplace, but baby was new. Hearing it makes butterflies erupt in your stomach. He called you baby, and he has wanted you. You could have had him from the start if your fears and insecurities hadn't held you back. 

"I'm sorry," you whisper. 

"I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to need me, to love me," Jake explains with more hesitation than you've ever heard from him as if he is tip-toeing through this conversation. Worrying your fingers together, you have to take a calming breath to settle your own hesitation before answering him, "Well, that's easy because I do."  

A gleeful grin stretches across his face, and it's so bright you feel a matching one appear. He rubs a hand over his face, hiding it from view for a moment, and when you see his face again, he is still smiling. He looks as if he is trying to bite it back but can't quite manage. 

"Well, alright, a few more things we have to iron out then. I love spending time with you. You've never not been desirable to me." You can't help a disbelieving laugh when Jake says that, and the look he gives you is disapproving. "I mean that. I was thinking about it even the time I came over to bring you soup when you had the flu. Wanted to bundle you up and crawl into bed with you." 

"Oh, come on, that can't be true. I was so gross." 

"It is. I promised I would be honest, and I'm not going to be breaking any of the promises I make to you. Can you believe that?" 

You study his face, tracing over his nose, and jaw. He still has the hint of a grin that hasn't slid off his features yet, and he looks so very earnest. You can't imagine that Jake would be in the business of lying to you, and the openness he is offering makes it feel like you can believe him. That you can keep trusting him just like you always have. "I can believe that."

"Great. So, baby —" 

"Yes?" You say entirely too breathily before he can even finish the sentence. It was really a surprise how much hearing him say that already turned your brain to some form of liquid. 

"I want to sleep with you," Jake says plainly. 

"Then why are you all the way over there?" 

"I didn't want you to feel any sort of pressure while we were talking, and wasn't confident I could keep my hands to myself." 

Standing up from his bed, you walk steadily over to the chair Jake is sitting in. Crawling into his lap more confidently than you truly feel, his hands automatically slip around your waist, steading you against him. Holding eye contact with him, you say, "I don't want you to keep your hands to yourself." 

"Fuck, you're going to kill me," he sighs, tightening his hold on you. You go to kiss him again, but when you do, he blurts out, "I don't have any STDs or STIs." His cheeks stain a little pink, and he looks as surprised by the declaration as you are. 

"That's good to know. I'm clean too," you inform him. 

"Good to know. I just thought it was important to put it out there. Got to do safety checks first and everything. I don't want us to have any questions or be unsure about anything, and it's important to consider all the factors involved with —" Jake's rambling comes to a halt when you dip your face into his neck, kissing at the underside of his jaw softly. 

"Jake," you say, linking your arms around his neck and playing with the short hair there. "Will you give me a baby?" 

"Fuck, Doll. I promise to give you anything you want. The ring, the house, the baby. It's yours." 

You don't waste any time kissing him. When your lips meet, all the hesitancy and nervousness that Jake had while you were talking melts away. His mouth confidently teases yours open for his tongue to quickly follow. Your hands thread into Jake's hair again as his start to roam your back, sides, and arms. When you wiggle closer on his lap, he groans and grabbing a handful of your ass, lifting you up. Jake stands easily and walks you back to the bed. 

He doesn't drop you on the bed like you're expecting. Instead, he sets you down gently, one of his hands cradling the back of your head as he does. Laying on your back with Jake standing over you reminds you just how large and broad he is. 

With surprisingly little fanfare, he pulls off his shirt and tosses it to the side. Jake shirtless is not a new sight; in fact, it's a tantalizing one you've seen too often. He has every right to be proud of his body, you know how much time he dedicates at the gym. So it shouldn't be a surprise that, never one to be self conscious, Jake hardly could be found wearing a shirt if the situation didn't require it. However, you realize this is the first time that you don't just have to look but can also touch. 

Wanting to get the nervousness of undressing out of the way, you sit up, quickly discarding your shirt and tossing it aside. Before you can shimmy out of your bottoms, Jake's large hands are on your wrists, stopping you. 

"You're doing my job," he chastises huskily. Jake is slow and meticulous in removing your clothes, running his hands over all the skin that's exposed to him. When he pulls off your bra, leaving you only in your panties, he just sits back and stares for a moment. Such intense scrutiny from his gaze has you covering your chest, crossing your legs, and looking away. 

"I wasn't planning on sleeping with anyone tonight," you mutter, knowing that you don't have the sexiest underwear on and perhaps were not as physically prepared for this intimacy as you would like. 

"Good," he says lowly. "No one else is going to get to see you like this anymore." Grabbing an ankle in each big hand, he spreads you out for him. He slides off your panties so you're completely bare, and takes up his staring once more. "Ain't you fucking gorgeous?" Jake mutters and you realize he ain't talking about you necessarily; he's talking to your pussy. Whining his name gets Jake to shove off his sweatpants, leaving him in a pair of dark grey boxer briefs as he crawls over your body. 

As he kisses you again, your hands greedily explore his exposed skin. His chest hair proving to be much softer than you had imagined it, and his shoulders are taut as he holds himself up. While Jake's lips move with yours, you use a leg to encourage him to ease more of his weight into you, seeking friction. Kissing down your neck he lavishes attention to your breasts, licking and sucking his way across your skin. 

"You know, I was too busy to make dessert," he says when he reaches your core. One of his hands teasingly traces all around the skin. Placing a kiss on your inner thigh, he asks, "Do you mind filling in?" 

"Jake, you don't need to." You say, trying not to squirm when his fingers dip between your lips. 

"I want to. Do you not want me to?" 

"I know it's not everyone's thing," you answer, giving him an out. 

"It's my thing," Jake says. His eyes lock onto the cleft of you, and he licks his lip, biting at the bottom one. Reaching up, he grabs one of your hands and brings it up to his hair, encouraging you to thread your fingers there. His fingers that are teasing you spread you open more, and he groans, "Oh yeah you're my thing." 

Jake's tongue traces over you, probing until he finds the spot that makes your hips jump. Once Jake finds your clit he doesn't waste his time. Widening his mouth, he latches on and sucks. While he starts gently, he ramps up to sucking hard and twisting his tongue as he does. When you pull at his hair, he moans encouragingly.

"More," you request tugging his hair gently. Jake listens, sliding a finger into you. Whispering praise into your thighs about how pretty you are and how good you taste. You don't know how long Jake spends between your thighs, but he doesn't seem to be in any hurry. He sucks and licks, fucking his finger into you until the sound is sloppy and wet. He slips a second finger in, stretching you, occasionally scissoring them wider open in you. 

Even when you are whining and gasping, working against Jake's tongue, he doesn't let up. You don't have the mind to worry how you're trying to suffocate him with your thighs, which he keeps pushing back open with no complaints. All that you can focus on is Jake, how good he is making you feel, and how close you're getting. It's a matter of time until you're shuddering and falling apart for him.  

Continuing to lavish attention even as you jerk with sensitivity, Jake seems content to keep eating you out. You try to pull him away by his hair, but he just licks into you harder. "Jake, enough," you whine, trying to wiggle away from his mouth.

 "I haven't had my fill yet, Doll," he says, pulling his mouth off you but not going far, pressing wet kisses to your thighs. 

"I haven't even seen your cock yet, and I don't know why it isn't in me." You say, trying to reason with him. It doesn't come out very strong, though as Jake's fingers curl in you, making your cunt flutter. 

"Patience is a virtue," he teases.

"Being virtuous isn't really at the forefront of my mind at the moment."

Jake sighs dramatically and presses one more kiss to your pussy before sitting back on his haunches. You can see the hard outline of him in his briefs as he gets off the bed. You watch his every move closely, more than ready to finally see him naked.

However, Jake is clearly taking some sort of joy from making you wait, because he detours to start picking up your hastily thrown clothing. As he is laying them out on the chair, you lose your patience. Grabbing one of his decorative pillows, you throw it at him. It smacks him between his shoulder blades before dropping to the floor with a thunk. 

Spinning to face you, Jake crosses his arms over his chest, making his biceps bulge, his eyebrow raised. "Did you just hit me with a pillow?" 

"No, I wouldn't do that," You deny trying to look innocent. Jake tsks at you, picking up the makeshift weapon and setting that neatly on the chair as well. 

"Being desperate for my cock isn't an excuse to misbehave, baby." 

"Big talk for someone who still hasn't shown it to me. It's okay if you don't have a pretty dick, Jake. It won't change how I feel. I'm still going to want you to fuck me."  

Goading someone into action was a wonderful tactic you had learned over the course of your friendship with Jake. Something he easily did with others, and something tonight that it proved was just as effective against him because he doesn't even respond to your words. Sliding off his underwear, his dick springs free. He's hard from eating you out, and just from the first glance you get, it's clear there isn't one thing for him to be self-conscious about. 

The fleshy pink length is nestled among dark hair, and the size of him is nothing to dismiss. It's a very symmetrical cock, lining up nicely with his balls and adonis belt. Bouncing a bit as he gets back on the bed, you can't bring yourself to look away. You know he is going to fill you so deliciously. When he's finally close enough for you to touch, you hesitate though. 

"Speechless?" Jake wonders, with no ounce of shame or self-consciousness present. 

"Can I touch?" You ask. Jake nods, taking your hand and bringing it to your mouth. You suck a few of your fingers in, wetting them with your spit. Then he guides your hand to his dick, encouraging you to wrap it around him. Jake's hand covers yours for the first few strokes, showing you what he likes, but then it falls away, letting you explore. He grunts when you trace one of the veins that runs along the side, following it down to cup his balls. He allows your teasing for a few more strokes before he pulls you close, kissing you hard. 

The hard planes of Jake's naked body pressed against yours is nearly too much. He is so close and yet not close enough. With some gentle maneuvering, Jake is in between your legs and checking that the position is comfortable for you. Jake runs his length through your lips, the head bumping into your clit. Despite all the encouragement and build up, he's still not in a hurry. When his cock is wet from you, it starts to slide effortlessly. Losing your patience, you cup Jake's face, making him look you in the eyes. 

"Jake, fuck me now. Please." You say. He nods, kissing you slowly. Then finally, he grabs his cock lining himself up and pushing the tip into you. When his pelvis meets yours, he holds himself there, your breaths mingling together in light pants as he stretches you out. The time he gives you to stretch and adjust is necessary, but once you have, Jake fills you deliciously. 

"How're you feeling baby?" He asks. Your thumb moves across his cheekbone, soothing until the worry lines between his eyebrows disappear. Only responding when you know you're okay and so is he, "Perfect. Feel so full of you."

"I'll fill you up," Jake promises. 

"Yeah?" You ask. He hums his agreement and rocks his hips against your experimental, drawing a small gasp from you. 

"Promise," he says, starting a lazy punctuated rhythm, moving his hips against yours. Your hands explore the skin of his back as he thrusts into you. You hike a leg up on Jake's hips, letting him get a little deeper in you. The action makes him moan, and he pulls your other leg up around his hip, too. 

Hooking your ankles together, you use the leverage to encourage Jake to fuck into you faster. Digging your heels into his ass and lifting your hips up to meet each of his thrusts increases the heat boiling between you. His face falling into your neck, Jake starts whispering dirty praise about how good you feel around him and how long he's been dreaming about this. 

Stamina clearly isn't something that Jake is lacking in. He fucks you until you are both dripping with sweat, and you are begging for him noncoherently, unable to process anything but how good his cock feels. He maintains a steady rhythm, snapping his hips to meet yours the whole time. 

"You feel so good. Want to get you there again. What do you need?" Jake pants huskily. 

"Harder," you answer shakily, snaking your hand to play with your clit. You're close, and you know it's not going to take much more for you to get there with how long Jake's been building you up. He listens, slamming his hips more pointedly into you, grinding his pelvis every time he bottoms out. 

Huffing, Jake pulls out of you a few minutes later. Making you cry out wantonly, reaching for his retreating body. He takes a moment to kiss both your hands that he unhooks from his neck. Then, shushing you gently, he grabs a pillow and lifting your hips, he slides it under them.

"It's okay, just a little better angle." He explains to you. You flop back on the bed, content to have Jake manhandle you any which way he wants if it means he'll be in you again.  

"Oh, you're such a needy thing, aren't you?" He asks, as your cunt clenches around nothing, empty and wanting him. His fingers dipping in to play with the wet dripping from you. A flash of shame passes through you as he asks that. You drop your arms that had been reaching out for him back to the bed, and you screw your eyes shut, turning your face to the side looking away from him. 

Jake had already got you to cum once, and it was possible he didn't want you all over him as he was trying to get off now. Preferences were probably something y'all should have talked about more in depth before jumping into intimacy. You didn't want him to think you were overly needy or hard to please. You didn't want to ruin what you and Jake could have the very first time together. Noticing the shift in your enthusiasm Jake immediately stops pressing his cock into you, worriedly asking, "What's wrong?" 

"Nothing," you answer, staring up at the ceiling looking for patterns there. It's easier to play this off if you don't have to look at him; easier if you don't have to acknowledge the unexpected, unwelcome swell of emotion that's overcoming you. 

"Doll, look at me." He orders you, but you shake your head, refusing. Jake grips your chin, tilting your face to meet his eyes. They are intense studying you intently, completely focused on you. "The honesty we just promised each other needs to extend to sex nearly more than anywhere else going forward with this relationship," Jake says seriously. His hard dick is pressed against your thigh, and you don't know how he's able to have such a level-headed conversation considering the circumstances, just having been balls deep in you a minute ago. "So, what's wrong?" 

"I don't want to be too high maintenance or needy," You sigh, trying to work through your words. Knowing this conversation is important, but also not completely sure how to express what you're feeling. "Sometimes I might seem needy, or maybe I could take a while to cum or not at all, which wouldn't be a reflection of you. I don't want you to think, well, I don't want to be too much for you to change your mind about this, and now I'm ruining the mood with a dumb fucking insecurity."

"Stop," Jake says gently, but leaving no room for argument. "You haven't ruined anything. I'm sorry I called your pussy needy. I didn't know it would make you feel this way. Can I tell you something, though, Doll?" When you give a hesitant nod, Jake's voice drops so low it's nearly gravelly. "I want you to be needy. I want your pussy desperate for my cock, desperate for my cum. I want you as desperate for me as I am for you." 

"You're desperate for me too?"

"Frantically and wildly so." He answers easily. Then he asks with his thumb ghosting over your nub, "Are we okay? Is this still okay?" 

"Yeah, this is good," You sigh, enjoying the zing that runs up your back when he nudges your clit more pointedly. 

Jake grabs his cock, giving it a few languid strokes before he guides it back into you. You push your hips up to meet him. The new angle that the pillow gives him leverage to hit somewhere that's just a delicious feeling. As he rocks into you, his thumb maintains its place on your clit. Your fear of the mood having been ruined proves wrong as the coil in your core quickly builds, pushing you near the edge once more. 

"Cum in me, Jake, please. Give me a baby," you request, your thighs quivering as you near your orgasm. 

As his hips snap nearly frantically, Jake rolls your clit over in nearly the same rhythm. He moans your name a minute later, falling over the edge and spilling inside of you. Though his hips stutter to a stop leaving himself fully seated in you, he continues working over your clit. It doesn't take long until you're dissolving into pleasure along with him. 

The ripples run through your body, and you feel every muscle tense and relax, turning into jelly. Jake grunts when you spasm around him but doesn't move or pull out until you've fully melted into the bed on the downward crest of your peak. 

When he does pull out, he doesn't go far, shifting enough to spoon you. Settling behind you, Jake pulls you close to his chest, wrapping you tight in his arms. His hand is tracing lazy patterns on your hip and occasionally venturing to the soft skin of your belly. You don't have the mind to be self-conscious at the moment, still a little too blissed out. It takes significant brain power to process his question when he asks, "Do you actually want to have a baby?" 

"Do you?" You wonder. 

"You can't answer a question with a question," Jake chastises you. Turning in his arms so you are sprawled against his chest, you snuggle close, nuzzling him affectionately. 

"Do you know how it was seeing you with Jackson today?" You ask him. 

"If it was even half of how it felt seeing you hold him, then I'm sorry." 

"Whatever you felt, double it. Triple it even." You say lightly. "It was enough for me to ask my friend, who I thought could never want me, for a baby." 

"I do want you," Jake immediately reassures you. 

"Thank goodness for baby fever, then. Because at least now we know we want each other," you reason, slowly starting to draw mindless patterns of your own against his skin. 

Jake heaves a sigh and strokes his hand down your back, wondering, "Was this just baby fever?" 

"No," you answer after thinking about it for a long span of silence. "I would have a baby with you. It seems right. I want that, I think." You can feel the relief in his body, hearing that, all his tension easing into relaxation. 

"Good," is the only response he gives you, kissing the crown of your head. You expect more but don't get it. Rather, Jake seems content to just bask in the afterglow. That doesn't seem to be too bad an idea, so you close your eyes, listening to his steady heartbeat.  

When you wake up from your impromptu nap, you're not alone in bed. However, you are now under the covers of a different comforter than there was before, and Jake is no longer acting as your pillow. He is on the other side of the bed, but his hand is stretched out, grazing the middle of your back. 

Rolling to face him, you admire the sight he makes stretched out on the bed, leaning against the headboard. Jake's got a book open, folded in half, clearly abusing the book's binding just so he can have one hand on you. When he notices you sleepily admiring him, Jake shoots you a soft smile. 

"Hey baby," he whispers. 

"Hi," You whisper back scooting closer to him and grab the hand that had been touching you, threading your fingers together. 

"Let's go on a date," Jake suddenly springs on you, squeezing your hand. 

"I would love that," you respond, feeling giddy as butterflies erupt in your stomach. "Want something first, though."

"I already told you I would give you anything you want, and I meant it," Jake says, setting his book on his bedside table and giving you his full attention. 

"Good, because I want round two and a shower, which hopefully has round three involved." 

"Your wish is my command," Jake says easily. You move even closer to him so your lips are only a breath apart. "I meant it, the ring, the house, the baby. I can make it all happen by tomorrow." 

"Let's start with breakfast in bed," you say, kissing him hard. When your lips hardly touch because you're both smiling too wide, well, that actually makes it feel all the better. 

[firewasabeast]

You're a Piece of My Soul I Can't Let Go

10.5k; read below or on ao3; tags: presumed dead (no actual major character death), angst, hurt/comfort, anxiety, panic, flashbacks, smut, witness protection, secret service

Buck didn't cry at the funeral.

It's not that he wasn't sad. He was heartbroken beyond repair.

The tears simply wouldn't fall.

He didn't show much emotional at all. Didn't listen to the speeches people gave. Didn't react when someone would give him a hug or a pat on the back. Didn't care about the words of encouragement by people who had no clue what it felt like to lose someone.

“Time will heal.”

“He's an angel now.”

“God needed him more.”

“Life goes on.”

“Hold yourself together for him.”

It was all bullshit.

The burial wasn't much different. He sat, unmoving, from his chair in the front row. Held out his hands when he presented with the folded flag. Heard the sniffs and cries from the people around him, but he remained stoic.

Nothing about this felt right.

There was a reception afterward at Bobby and Athena's place. Buck, wanting nothing to do with the limo that was reserved for family, had driven his Jeep to the cemetery.

He told Bobby he'd meet them at their place. Let Bobby wrap him in another hug before he left.

He didn't go to Bobby's.

Didn't want to talk to all those people. He had no desire to hear them laugh as they told stories about Tommy. They'd never know him like he did.

He went home instead. Back to the place he and Tommy shared.

It was Tommy's house, originally. Then Buck had moved in only five months into them dating. It seemed crazy at the time, but it worked. They were engaged two months later, married six months after that.

Four months of marriage. That's all they'd gotten. The ring around Buck's finger still felt new, and it was already over.

Seventeen months total. The best seventeen months of Buck's life.

And it was all gone.

Buck walked into the house that screamed Tommy, Tommy, Tommy everywhere he looked. There was the couch they had picked out together. The lamp that Tommy had knocked off the table twice, yet somehow never broke. The kitchen where they realized they were far too old to be having sex on a countertop. The clock on the wall that played obnoxious music every hour that Buck hated but Tommy loved, so it was only ever on if Buck had to work and Tommy was at home.

His houseplants he killed regularly.

The TV they splurged on because Tommy both loved watching movies and loved watching Buck watch movies.

The bedroom, two nightstands. One side almost empty because all Buck needed was a lamp and a spot for his phone at night. The other side with a lamp, charger, reading glasses, chapstick, and a glass of water that now had a thin film of dust covering the top.

Buck toed off his shoes and walked to the bed, lying down. He pulled his phone from his pocket and silenced it before setting it on his nightstand. He didn't want to be bothered. Maddie could see his location, would know he was fine. That was enough.

He curled onto his side, facing Tommy's side of the bed. He tugged at Tommy's pillow, moving it so it rested lengthwise against his body. He snuggled it tightly. Closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of Tommy's shampoo and cologne, still fresh on the pillowcase.

He fell into a dreamless sleep.

Nothing about this felt right.

“What's the matter?” Tommy asked immediately upon entering the kitchen. Buck had his eyebrows drawn tightly together as he stared at a can of coconut milk. That was never a good sign.

“I got the wrong thing,” Buck pouted. “I was supposed to get coconut cream and I picked up the milk.”

“I'm guessing they're not interchangeable?”

Buck gave him a look that asked the question, “Are you crazy?” without saying a word.

“Right.” Tommy began searching the room for his keys, “I will go get you your coconut cream.”

“No, I can get it,” Buck put the can down and headed for the stove. “I'll let Bobby know dinner will be a little late,” he said, switching off a couple of the burners, “and then-”

Buck was cut off by Tommy wrapping his arms around his waist, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You keep cooking,” he insisted, “I'll get the cream.”

Buck smiled softly, leaning further into Tommy's touch. “You sure?”

“I'm sure.”

Buck turned his head for a kiss on the lips before Tommy unraveled himself from him.

“Keys?” Tommy asked.

“Coffee table.”

“Right! Thank you. Love you, Babe. Be right back.”

“Love you too.”

Three days was all the bereavement pay a city employee was allotted after the death of a family member. Bobby had managed to space out Buck's shifts enough to give him seven days before he had to dip into his vacation time.

It didn't matter anyway. He hadn't used his vacation days in a long time. Had been saving them for a long roadtrip with...

It didn't matter. He didn't need those vacation days anymore.

A part of him had thought about going back to work. He had gotten dressed and everything. Had his keys and was headed out the door. He couldn't seem to make it past the doorframe.

He typed a simple text to Bobby, taking vacation day, silenced his phone and got back into bed. Bed, bathroom, kitchen, bed, bathroom, kitchen, the same path for the next week.

People would come to the door, knock and knock and knock, but he made no effort to let them in.

When they'd text, he'd respond so they knew he was alive, but also knew to leave him alone.

I need some time, he'd text them, please let me have time to myself.

That worked for a while, until Eddie decided to screw it all and use the spare key he had to let himself in.

“Buck?” he called out as he gently opened the front door. “Buck, you here?”

He walked into the dark house, all the curtains drawn and not a single light on. After peeking into the kitchen and living room, he made his way to the bedroom. The door was cracked, so he nudged it open until he could see Buck lying on the bed, facing away from the door.

He was under the covers, cuddling a pillow close to him.

“Buck?” Eddie whispered.

He waited a few seconds and was just about to head out to the living room until Buck woke up, when he heard a, “Hm?”

“You awake?”

“I'm not a sleep talker,” Buck muttered grumpily. He turned just enough to look at Eddie. “Why're you here?”

“To check on you.”

Buck folded himself back over the pillow, closing his eyes. “Told you I'm fine.”

“Yeah... don't really believe you, bud.” Eddie walked over to the other side of the bed so he could face Buck. Sunlight peeked through the curtains enough for Eddie to see that, surprisingly, Buck didn't look like he'd been crying.

He just looked tired. Staying in bed for two weeks could do that to a person.

“Come on, Buck,” Eddie said, “let's go out to the living room. Get you something to eat.”

“Already ate,” Buck mumbled into the pillow.

“When?”

Buck sighed. “What time is it?”

“Three o'clock in the afternoon.”

“What day is it?”

“Thursday.”

Reluctantly, Buck sat up in bed, sending a glare to Eddie. “I ate at one.”

Eddie crossed his arms. “On what day?”

God, Buck hated when he got all parental with him. Made him feel like a child. “Wednesday.”

“Up,” Eddie demanded, snapping his fingers. “Now.”

Buck was too tired to fight him. He knew the quicker he went along, ate whatever Eddie wanted him to eat, talked about whatever Eddie wanted him to talk about, he could get him out of his house.

He pulled the covers off of him and got out of bed, scooting his feet as he walked into the living room and plopped down on the couch.

Eddie couldn't help but noticed how much weight Buck had lost over the last couple of weeks. It made him feel awful for waiting so long to force himself into Buck's home. He was trying to be respectful. Trying to give Buck the space he kept requesting. He'd get those texts from Buck every time he knocked on the door, and he'd leave because he was asked to. That's what they'd all been doing. He knew now that was a mistake.

“I don't wanna eat much,” Buck said, staring straight ahead at the TV.

“I already ordered some wonton soup from China Wok. It'll be here in a minute.” Eddie sat on the other end of the couch. “Talk to me, Buck. Please.”

“About?”

“Anything.”

Buck's eyes scanned the living room. Dead flowers were scattered around, all sent somewhere between the day after Tommy's body was found up until a few days ago. Buck had managed to bring them into the house, just so no one called in a wellness check on him, but he didn't bother with keeping them alive.

What was the point? They'd die eventually anyway.

“I haven't dreamt since he... since they... you know.”

Eddie was thrown off guard by the admission, expecting it to be harder for Buck to confide in him. “None at all?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Used to. Used to have a lot of dreams. Not anymore.”

“Buck, I know what it's like to-”

“Don't,” Buck interrupted, looking at Eddie for the first time since they sat down. “Please, I- I've gotten so many 'I know what you're going through' texts from people and it doesn't help.”

Eddie nodded. “I understand.”

Buck turned his attention down to his hands, thumbs twiddling together nervously. “Can I- Can I tell you something really dumb?”

“Sure!” Eddie exclaimed, trying to lighten the mood a bit. “I love hearing dumb things.”

Buck managed a small smile. It faded faster than it had appeared. “I- Sometimes it doesn't feel, um, feel real to me. Like, I don't believe he's gone. That, um, that feeling that you get when someone has- when they've died. I- I don't have that.”

“Accepting it's happened is one of the hardest things to do, Buck. That's normal.”

“I haven't even cried,” Buck admitted. “Not since the day I was told he... he was gone.”

“That's normal too.”

Eddie didn't understand. Buck knew he wouldn't. “I don't know,” he breathed out, more to himself than to Eddie.

“Don't know what?”

The doorbell rang, pulling them out of their discussion. Buck was grateful. He didn't feel like talking anymore.

“Ready to eat?” Eddie asked, clapping his hands together as he got up and headed for the door.

“Mhm,” Buck lied. He leaned his head back on the couch and closed his eyes. He just needed to get through this meal, then Eddie would leave, and he could go back to bed.

He needed to get back to bed.

“It doesn't make any sense to me. At all.”

“You're not letting this go anytime soon, are you?”

“They didn't end up together in the end, Evan! Why'd they even say the movie was a romantic comedy? What's the point?”

Buck reached over and took Tommy's hand from where it rested on the center console. “I think they did it on purpose,” he surmised, “to spite you.”

“I agree, those bastards.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Buck gave Tommy's hand a squeeze, “they are fictional, so you know, they didn't really mind that they weren't together in the end.”

“Hm.” Tommy thought for a moment before shaking his head. “No, that doesn't make me feel any better at all.”

Buck shrugged. “I tried.”

“They had everything planned, Evan,” Tommy said, continuing his rant. “They had their whole future planned and they threw it all away in the end? Ugh, I can't.”

“Maybe it was to show that she found herself, you know, without him. That's not a bad thing.”

“It's not a bad thing at all, if I'm properly warned that that's what the movie is going to be about. It is a bad thing when you call the movie a romantic comedy.”

“Is there someone we should be writing a strongly worded letter to?” Buck asked, a cheeky grin on his face.

Tommy shot a meaningless glare in his direction. “You joke now, but I wasn't the only one crying in the theater.”

“Who said I was joking?” Buck asked. “I- I love a strongly worded letter. We can whip out some paper and a pen the second we get home.”

Buck could feel Tommy's body start to relax. His face softened as he stole another glance at Buck before turning back to the road. “I love that you're my husband.”

Buck brought Tommy's hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “I love that you're mine.”

Buck stared down at his wedding band. It had been a month now. A month since he'd last seen Tommy. A month and five days since their last date.

“Buck... Buck?”

Buck looked up to Hen watching him from across the truck. They were on their way to a call. Some small fire in the middle of nowhere with no people around. It'd be an easy call. Buck was grateful for that. This would be his fourth shift back at work, although it was his first full 24-hour one.

“Yeah?” he asked, ignoring the fact that Chimney and Eddie were giving him side glances as well.

“You good?”

He'd be angry at the question if anyone else had asked. He knew his temper was shorter than it ever used to be. Knew even the smallest things could set him off. He often had to force himself to stay calm. Take some deep breaths and count to ten before responding to someone.

He didn't have to do that with Hen though. Her voice was soothing to him. A calm against the stormy sea that was his mind.

Buck nodded. “I'm good.”

“You want in?”

He paused, dumbfounded. He had no idea what she was talking about. “In on what?”

“We're placing bets on what caused the fire,” Chimney explained. “I said kids smoking in the woods.”

“I'm going with the sun beating down on a glass bottle.” Eddie looked proud of his choice.

“Old fashioned illegal campfire for me.” Hen smiled softly at Buck. “You?”

“Oh, um, nah. I- I'm good.”

“Oh come on,” Eddie reached over and nudged Buck's knee. “Take a guess.”

Buck took a deep breath. Thought for a moment. “Fireworks, I- yeah. Fireworks.”

“In the middle of the day?” Chimney questioned.

Hen shrugged. “Wouldn't be the first time. Okay, Cap,” she said, fiddling with her headset, “what about you?”

Buck phased back out as Bobby made his guess. He tugged at his ring, twirling it around and around on his finger. He thought about the inscription on the inside. One Four Three. Had to force himself out of that memory before he could even start to get into it.

It all felt like too much. Too overwhelming. He needed to get himself together.

He sat up straight and cleared his throat.

He could do this. He could get through this shift. Get home. Get into bed. Stay there for forty-eight hours before he'd have to pretend again.

...He didn't even care that he won the bet.

“I've tried calling him like five times,” Buck said. He was sitting on the couch, his leg bouncing nervously up and down, Bobby and Athena sitting across from him. “I- I'm sorry about dinner, guys-”

“Don't even think about it,” Athena interrupted. “Bobby, you having any luck?”

Bobby shook his head. “I've texted him a few times but they're not going through.”

“Something's wrong. He wouldn't... Something's wrong. His location isn't on anymore either.”

“Okay.” Athena pulled out her phone. “Where did you say he was going?”

“Ralph's. He was just getting me some coconut cream for my recipe. I- I said I'd go but he insisted. That was over two hours ago. I, um, I should drive there and check.” He went to get up but Athena held out a hand to stop him.

“I'll go,” she said. “You and Bobby stay. Let me know if he shows up. I've got my badge and everything out in the car, so I can ask around at the store if I can't find him. His phone probably died and they were out of the right stuff at Ralph's, so he went somewhere else.”

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe,” Buck replied, but he could see the look Athena gave Bobby out of the corner of his eye.

He knew nothing in his life was ever that simple.

He stumbled upon the video by accident. He was looking for a picture of a recipe that Maddie had asked for when his finger hit the wrong thumbnail and the video began to play.

It was one he took without Tommy knowing. A rare rainy day in Los Angeles gave them the opportunity to relax at home instead of run errands or make plans.

Buck was splayed out on the couch, head on the armrest and his legs on Tommy's lap. Tommy had a crossword over Buck's legs, staring at it with an intensity usually reserved for flying into dangerous situations.

“If twenty-one across is evergreen, then eighteen down can't be carpet.”

“I thought you said eighteen down had to be carpet?” Buck asked off camera.

“It does, Evan,” Tommy placed the pen between his teeth. “It really does.”

“Then evergreen is wrong.”

Tommy shook his head. “Nope. It's gotta be evergreen.”

“We've been going over this for almost an hour now, Tommy,” Buck said, huffing out a laugh. “Give it up.”

“I've never been this close to finishing a Sunday crossword!” Tommy whined, the smile on his face betraying the seriousness of his voice. “If I give up now, I'll never forgive myself.”

“If you give up now I'll let you blow me as a consolation prize,” Buck offered cheekily.

Tommy gasped, glancing at Buck with a look of betrayal. “Sabotage!” he exclaimed. “I have to finish this, babe, or my name isn't Thomas Andrew Kinard!”

“Your name isn't Thomas Andrew Kinard,” Buck replied, the video shaking with his laughter. “It's Buckley-Kinard.”

Tommy froze. He clicked his pen closed and tossed it, along with the paper, on the coffee table. He turned to Evan, his eyes darkening, “About that consolation prize?”

Buck found himself smiling as the video ended. He'd taken it only three weeks after their wedding. The video wasn't even old, but it felt like a lifetime ago.

Suddenly, the living room felt cold. Buck's spot on the couch now uncomfortable. The silence a stark contrast to all the life in that memory. For two months now he'd had nothing but silence in his home, besides the far too occasional visits from his friends and family. It wasn't the same though. It wasn't the same as having Tommy.

The smile on Buck's face faded. He got up and headed to the bedroom to lie down.

Maddie would have to get that recipe another day.

“We're all set to clear out here,” Bobby said over the radio. “Great work everyone.”

The call had been a big one. A four alarm fire that required the assistance of multiple stations.

“This is Firefighter Pilot Kinard of Harbor Station for Firefighter Buckley of 118, over,” Tommy's voice came over the radio. He had been providing assistance from the chopper, now hovering above them as he set to head back.

Buck glanced around at the rest of the 118, all stopping what they were doing to watch him and listen in. “Go for Buckley.”

“Looking for confirmation on a code one-four-three.”

“One-four-three confirmed and returned.”

“Excellent. Returning to Harbor Station.”

“What the hell is a one-four-three?” Chimney asked once the sounds from the chopper were off in the distance.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “It's their way of saying 'I love you' after a big call.”

Buck smiled. “We usually text it to each other,” he explained, a blush rising on his cheeks, “just to let the other know we're alright. Guess he couldn't get to his phone.”

Hen put a hand to her stomach. “That's so preciously sickening I might throw up.”

“Okay, okay, come on guys,” Bobby said, waving the group toward the truck, “give Buck a break-”

“Thank you, Cap.”

“-for now. We can make fun of him on the way back to the station.”

“Hey!”

It was the longest, most grueling shift Buck had had since he could remember. He had only managed a couple hours of sleep, and that was often in fifteen minute increments. The worst part was the majority of calls were from people being stupid. Accidents that could have been prevented had a single person with half a brain been anywhere around.

All Buck wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep.

Which is why he was not so pleasantly surprised when he pulled up to Maddie's car in his driveway.

She greeted him at the door with a hug, and he faked a smile as he hugged back. “Why're you here?” he asked, trying to sound polite.

“Well, you've been working so hard lately, I figured I'd come over and help with the housecleaning.”

“Oh, uh, um, thanks.” The overwhelming smell of cleaning supplies made him feel a bit lightheaded as he walked further into the house, dropping his duffel on the dining room table. “It looks great in here.”

That wasn't a lie. She had made the place spotless. He wasn't a messy person himself but he couldn't deny he'd let certain things, like mopping and dusting, go over the past few months.

“It's the least I could do,” she replied. “I won't stay long, Howie texted me about how busy you guys were. Needed an excuse to see you though. It's... It's been a while.”

Two and a half weeks, to be exact. No fault of Maddie's either. She'd make plans with him, and he'd cancel last minute.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. “I've been, uh, trying to get things back in order. I'm just- I'm still kind of...”

“It's okay,” she assured him. “Really. I understand.”

“Let me, um, let me go put my jacket up,” he said, tugging at it, “and we'll talk for a little bit before you go.” He didn't want to. No desire for small talk, or talk of any kind, but he couldn't kick her out of the house after all she'd done for him.

She smiled. “Okay. That sounds good.”

He headed to his bedroom, but stopped dead in his tracks when he reached the doorway.

“Did you... Did you wash my sheets?”

“I did,” Maddie replied, coming up behind him. Her voice was far too nonchalant for the blinding rage that was slowly seeping up inside him.

“All of them? Like, the pillowcases too?”

“Uh, yeah? Why would I only wash some of your sheets, Buck?”

Buck hurried over to the far side of the bed, throwing the comforter and sheets back to get to Tommy's pillow.

He didn't care if he looked like a crazy person. He brought the pillow up to his face and took a deep breath in.

It smelled like Gain.

It made him want to throw up.

“Buck, what's wrong?” She was clearly worried, standing uncomfortably in the doorway.

“I didn't ask you to do this, Maddie,” he said angrily, tossing the pillow back on the bed. “I- I didn't ask you to do any of this.”

“I know. I just wanted to help. Buck, I'm sorry if I-”

“I need you to leave.”

“Buck-”

“Leave!”

She stood firmly in place. “I'm not leaving until you tell me what I did wrong.”

“I- I, everyone keeps trying to help me,” he huffed, “and I don't want it! I don't want Eddie coming over for dinner! I don't want Hen taking me out for drinks! I don't want Chimney taking me to a movie! I don't want Bobby texting me every damn day! And I don't want you to be my maid!”

“We're just trying to help you, Evan-”

“Don't call me that!” He spewed.

He was breathing heavily. The stinging in his eyes surprised him. It'd been so long since he had last cried. He didn't particularly feel like crying right now, but apparently his body did. He groaned, sitting down on Tommy's side of the bed and staring out the window. He brought Tommy's pillow to his chest, and began to sob.

Maddie was by his side in seconds, wrapping her arms around him and enveloping him in a hug. 'I'm so sorry, Buck. I'm so sorry.” She was crying too. Buck could feel her tears wetting his shirt. He wasn't even sure why she was apologizing. She didn't have anything to be sorry for. If anything, he should be apologizing for snapping at her so harshly.

If he could speak, he would have told her as much. Would have told her that his head was a jumbled mess that he couldn't seem to clear. That nothing about this felt real. That he felt like Tommy was still there, somewhere, with them.

That it'd been four months since he'd had a dream. How he missed dreaming. They were always so vivid, him and Tommy, living their lives together.

Now, there was just darkness. An endless abyss of black every time he closed his eyes.

He'd tell her how his memories haunted him. The dreams may not exist, but the memories would appear out of nowhere at the worst times. They'd plague him. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't escape them.

He wasn't sure how much time passed before he was able to find his voice. Before he was able to bring himself out of Maddie's embrace. He kept a tight hold on the pillow, fingers messing with a pulled thread at the edge. “It s- smelled like him,” he said, his lip still trembling. “I'd... I'd wash everything else but, um, I- I couldn't wash this.”

“Oh, Buck, I'm so sorry. I didn't-”

“I know. It's okay. I- I know you were trying to help. It's okay.”

“Do you still have some of his cologne?”

Buck nodded and Maddie got up to go into the bathroom.

“Where?” she asked.

“Far sink, open the cabinet, black bottle.”

She returned a few seconds later with a bottle in hand, held out for Buck to see. “This one?”

“Mhm.”

“Want me to spray it?”

He laid the pillow out flat and Maddie sprayed it a couple of times.

“I really miss him, Maddie,” Buck admitted quietly, inhaling the scent of his cologne as it passed through the air.

“I know, Buck. I know.”

“Bobby, it's been twenty-four hours of nothing. I'm freaking out.”

Bobby hadn't left Buck since he'd arrived the day before. Athena had worked all night putting out alerts for Tommy and his vehicle, but hadn't gotten anywhere.

He and Buck had left two different times to go driving around. The rest of the 118 had gone searching as well, going to places he frequented, driving down any and every back road they could find.

Nothing.

Now, back at the house to rest for a minute, and make sure Tommy hadn't come back home, Buck was in a full blown panic.

“I know, Buck, but we're all doing everything we can,” Bobby replied, leading Buck to the couch. “Athena's got officers searching the whole city for his car. He'll be found.”

“But what if-”

“No,” Bobby sat on the edge of the coffee table so he could face Buck, “you're not gonna think like that, Buck.”

“Bobby,” his voice was pleading and his eyes red. “You know s- something's wrong. H- He wouldn't do this. You know that.”

Bobby sighed. He opened his mouth to speak, unsure of what he could even say, when the doorbell rang.

Buck's heart started pounding right away. Athena wouldn't ring the doorbell. She'd knock. So would anyone from the 118, except Eddie. Eddie would come right on in.

He was shaking as he got up and walked to the door, Bobby close behind him.

“Detective John Farrow,” a man introduced the second Buck opened the door. “Are you Evan Buckley-Kinard?”

Buck nodded. “I- Yes. I- I am.”

“Mr. Buckley-Kinard, I'm sorry to inform you...”

The sound of the detective's voice was replaced by a ringing in Buck's ears. He felt dizzy. His vision blurred. The last thing he remembered was Bobby catching him as he fell.

Agreeing to lunch at Maddie's with his parents was a mistake. He knew that from the moment he said yes. He'd been working on controlling his temper. Not overreacting at the small things.

There was still more work to be done.

“So,” Margaret began, everyone settled at the table. Maddie looked up to see her eyes on Buck. The look Margaret was giving him already made her want to scream. “There's really no easy way to say this, Evan-”

“Then maybe you shouldn't say it,” Maddie suggested. Chimney placed a hand on her back, rubbing gently to try and ease the tension.

Buck remained quiet, eyes directed toward his mother with an unreadable expression on his face.

“I'm simply asking,” Margaret continued, “if you've, you know, gotten back out there any?”

“Margaret,” Phillip warned under his breath. Maddie knew that if their dad wasn't even on their mom's side, this was never going to end civilly.

Maddie swore Buck's eyes went dark. “Buck-” Maddie started, but he cut her off.

“You're not seriously asking me if I'm dating six months after my husband died, are you, Mom?”

“Not dating, but getting back out into the world. I- I've heard so much about you staying holed up in your house, only leaving to go to work, and that worries me, Evan.”

“Stop calling me, Evan,” Buck demanded.

Margaret raised her hands in surrender. “I'm sorry,” she said, and she meant it. The name sometimes slipped out without her realizing it. She had been warned that the name triggered Buck in a way it never had before. Even though others had used it on occasion before, Evan had become Tommy's name for him. And with him gone, Buck didn't want to hear it from anyone. “I'm sorry, Buck. I just don't want to see you wasting away. It's hard for a mother to see her child suffer like this.”

“Were you over Daniel's death in six months?” Buck asked bitterly. “Were you back out there? Cause I seem to remember it being about thirty years before you even mentioned his name. And you only did that once Maddie told me about him.”

Tears filled Maddie's eyes. “Buck,” she spoke softly. She desperately wanted this conversation to end.

“That's not fair, Buck,” Margaret answered, her voice shaking. “Daniel was my child.”

“And Tommy was my husband!” Buck slammed his napkin on the table, rising to his feet. “We had planned a future together! We were saving up for a house, we were planning on having kids, we talked about what we'd do when we retired! Hell, we planned weekly grocery shopping trips together! All these things got ripped out from under me, and I'm supposed to just get back out there? Are you crazy?”

“Hey,” Phillip stood across from him, “that's too far. Your mother wasn't trying to be malicious.”

Buck shook his head, then began to head for the door. “This was a mistake. I- I'm gonna go.”

“Buck, wait-” Maddie went to get up, but Chimney placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Let me,” he said, walking out after Buck.

“Wait a minute, Buck!” Chimney jogged a few steps to catch up to him.

Buck stopped at his Jeep, hand on the door handle. “I'm not going back in.”

“Wasn't gonna ask you to. Just want to make sure you're okay.”

Buck let out a humorless laugh, turning back to Chimney. “Well, apparently I only stay holed up in my house except to go to work, so you tell me if I'm okay.”

“Maddie didn't say it like that to them, Buck, please don't be mad at her. She's worried about you. We all are.”

Buck scoffed. “Just leave me alone for tonight,” he said, getting into his Jeep. “I'll see you at work on Friday.”

“He flashed the ring three times today,” Eddie said, scooting back into the bench. After work they'd all met Tommy at the bar for a few drinks before heading home.

“Four,” Hen corrected.

“Nope.” Chimney took a sip of his beer. “Five.”

Tommy grinned at Buck. “Really? Five times? Can't say I blame them, I do have a hot fiancé.”

“Oh, my guy was not flirting,” Chimney stated. “Buck asked him if he liked the way the ring shimmered in the sunlight.”

“Mhm,” Hen agreed. “My girl wasn't flirting either. Buck noticed she had an ultrasonic ring cleaner in her bathroom and asked if she was happy with her purchase because, and I quote, 'I just got engaged and I want to make sure my ring stays perfect forever.'”

“Okay, guys,” Buck said with a groan, “we get it. I'm lame.”

“I don't think it's lame.” Tommy rested his hand on Buck's knee. “I think it's adorable. I love that you're excited to get married.”

A blush rose on Buck's cheeks. “I am excited,” he agreed, leaning in for a kiss. “Very excited.”

“Before this gets pg-13,” Eddie interrupted, “the two men I had were definitely flirting, but they both got the hint after the first 'fiancé' was thrown out there. Buck threw in two more for good measure. The other person- not flirting.”

“What about you?” Hen asked Tommy. “Did you get any offers you had to turn down today?”

“Well, I was thousands of feet in the air for both of the calls I went on, so any prospects would have had to look at me through some really good binoculars and then steal a radio to tell me they were into me, so no. No offers.”

“The guy in the bathroom definitely flirted with you like ten minutes ago, Dude,” Eddie said with a laugh.

“What?” Tommy asked incredulously. “No he didn't.”

“He for sure did. Man was jacked and he was asking for your workout routine.”

“He said he wanted to switch things up!” Tommy exclaimed.

Eddie snorted. “Oh, he definitely wanted to switch things up.”

“What? Who is this man?” Buck eyes darted around the bar. “Where is he?”

“Don't worry about it Buck,” Eddie reassured him. “Tommy didn't even realize it. Gave the guy a five minute rundown of how he gets the perfect squat. Your man only has eyes for you.”

Buck settled back into his seat, leaning into Tommy's side as Tommy pulled him closer and pressed a kiss to his temple. “That's true,” he whispered into Buck's ear.

Buck rested his head on Tommy's shoulder, ignoring the teasing gag sounds that came from the others around them.

If it were possible, he'd stay like this forever.

He should have expected this.

It should have happened sooner, if he were being honest.

He was lucky to go seven months without a call that hit too close to home.

There had been a hit and run. The car that was hit had flipped twice, landed right side up, and immediately burst into flames.

The man in the driver's seat never stood a chance.

Buck was okay while they hurried to get out the flames. He'd ignored the glances from the rest of the team, ignored Bobby's suggestion to stay by the engine, ignored the thoughts in the back of his head telling him to sit this one out.

It wasn't until the fire was out and he saw the man's body, burnt so severely he looked more like a halloween decoration than a human, that Buck lost it.

No matter how much he wanted to look away, his eyes were fixed on the body. His heart rate was speeding up quickly, each breath short and sharp and painful.

He hadn't even realized that tears were falling down his face. Or that he was letting out little noises similar to a dog's whine. He had his helmet in his hand, shaking so much it was vibrating against his leg.

Buck didn't even notice the bystanders watching him, some of them whispering, others pulling out their phones.

It felt like hours, but Bobby was in front of him within seconds. “We're gonna walk away, Buck,” he said calmly but firmly, planting a hand on his shoulder. “We're gonna walk away and go sit behind the engine. Come on.”

Buck let Bobby guide him to a quite spot behind the fire truck, sitting on the curb. Bobby took his helmet from him and tossed it somewhere, then sat down beside him.

“I'm sorry,” Buck breathed out, wiping over his face with his hand.

“You don't ever have to apologize for being human, Buck.”

“I don't know how to do this,” he confessed through sobs. “I don't- I don't know how to keep g- going.”

“The path through grief isn't linear,” Bobby explained. “Hell, it's not really much of a path you get through at all. More like a loop.”

“So this is... This is m- my forever?” He asked, voice rising in despair.

“No. Not exactly. You do learn how to manage it better over time, but it takes time, Buck. And it takes letting the people around you help you, instead of pushing them away.”

“I don't mean to,” Buck said as he began to calm down. “It just takes so much energy. Everything is exhausting. Talking to people is- is so exhausting.”

“I know. Buck, you've seen grief. It's been around you since you were a baby. I'm not saying there's any right or wrong way to grieve, but I think you know how dangerous it is to lose yourself in it.” Bobby put his arm around him, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “No one expects you to be exactly who you were before you lost Tommy. I'll never be the same person I was, Eddie won't be the same person he was, Chimney won't be who he was before losing his brother, I could go on and on. But we- I need you to realize you're still here, you're still breathing, and Tommy wouldn't want you to disappear.”

Buck nodded, a new wave of tears taking over him.

Bobby pulled him close and let him cry.

“How many kids do you want?”

Buck and Tommy were sat on the front porch steps watching the sunset behind the trees across the street.

“Uh,” Tommy paused, caught off guard. “I don't know. Haven't really thought about it.”

Buck shrugged. “We've talked about wanting kids, but we've never talked about how many we want.”

“Hm. Two sounds nice. Kinda close together so they can grow up with each other. You?”

“Two's good,” he agreed. “But we'd need a bigger house.”

“Oh, for sure. This one barely fits the two of us.”

“And I'd like for us to be married a while first. Settled, you know?”

Tommy raised his eyebrows. “You proposing?”

“Ha! Like this? No.” Buck took Tommy's hand in his and they settled into a comfortable silence. After a couple minutes, Buck squeezed Tommy's hand to get his attention. “I have, um, I've been thinking about it though. Um, about proposing,” he said, staring deep into Tommy's eyes to see what kind of response he'd get. When Tommy appeared surprised, Buck panicked a bit. “Is that, um, is- is that weird? To be thinking about it so soon?”

“What? Oh, God, no, Evan. I,” he laughed, “I've actually been thinking about it too. For a while now.”

Buck looked as shocked as the night Tommy first kissed him. “Really?”

“Really. I've been googling rings, looking for the perfect one. Kept trying to talk myself out of it because I wasn't sure if you'd think it was too fast but-”

Tommy's words were cut off by Buck's mouth on his, so forceful it nearly toppled them both over.

“Oh! Mmm,” Tommy moaned into the kiss, resting his hand at the base of Buck's neck.

“Yes,” Buck said, dazed as he pulled back far enough to speak.

��What?”

“Yes.”

“Bu- Evan, I didn't ask yet. Not the- I don't have a ring.”

“I don't care, Tommy. Yes. I'm saying yes. Yes?”

It took Tommy's mouth a second to catch up with his brain, but once it did he was nodding, his eyes filling with tears. “Yes. Of course, yes,” he replied, both of them laughing giddily before crashing their lips back together.

Everyone except for Hen was upstairs relaxing between calls. Bobby and Buck were at the table, planning out next week's meals. Eddie was fixing himself a cup of coffee. Chimney was on the couch, reading a book.

“We're all going out for beers after our shift,” Eddie said, glancing at Buck. “You in?”

Buck nodded. “Yeah, I'm in.”

He'd been trying lately. Trying to do things other than work and sleep. He'd gone to the zoo with Jee a couple times over the past month. He'd gone to Bobby's for dinner. Watched a game at Eddie's place. Met Maddie and Chimney for brunch. He'd even gone over to Hen's one night when she was home alone and they'd gotten hammered while discussing their various traumas.

Every one of these occasions had ended with him in his car, or a cab, sobbing uncontrollably.

But he was trying.

Hen walked up the stairs, a worried expression on her face. “What's up with you?” Chimney asked, first to notice.

“Uh... Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“There's a... a secret service agent here for you.”

All eyes were on her now.

A... a what?”

Before Hen could get in another word, a man in a suit walked up behind her.

Buck stood, recognizing the man right away. It was the same man who had come to his door to let him know about Tommy. His heart sunk. How could this possibly get worse?

“Detective Farrow?”

“Mr. Buckley-Kinard,” he greeted. “It's actually Special Agent Farrow, but you can all me John.”

“I- I don't-”

“I know this is a bit odd,” he continued, “and was not something I actually wanted to do. I was going to hold off until you were home, but he refused to wait another minute.”

“I- what are you talking about? Who?”

The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs interrupted whatever John was about to reply.

Suddenly there was a very familiar, very alive Tommy standing in front of them, smiling brightly at the sight of Buck. “Hi, Evan.”

“Holy shit.” The words escaped Chimney's mouth without him realizing.

Hen followed right after with an, “Oh my God.”

Eddie felt his coffee cup slip from his hand and shatter against the countertop. No one even noticed.

Bobby was standing right beside Buck, thankfully, because he had to quickly reach out and grab onto him before he fell to the ground. He managed to whip a chair around and get Buck seated as he stared, mouth agape, at his husband.

His alive husband.

His breathing husband.

His not-buried-in-the-cemetery husband.

“Evan,” Tommy stepped forward, but Buck held his arm out to stop him.

“What the hell is going on?”

Tommy was confused. Buck sounded angry, and scared. He looked around at all the other faces staring back at him. “Why... Why do you all look like you've seen a ghost?” he asked.

Chimney walked up to Tommy, poking him on the shoulder. “Because you're dead. At least, you're supposed to be.”

Tommy raised his eyebrows. “I'm what?” He turned to John. “Why would they think that?”

John cleared his throat, eyes gazing downward. “There's a lot we need to discuss, Mr. Buckley-Kinard.”

“Why would they think I was dead?” Tommy repeated, angry now.

“Because that's what we were told,” Hen answered.

Tommy stepped closer to John. “You told them I was dead?”

“We couldn't risk anyone knowing-”

“You told my husband I was dead?!”

“-that you were alive. It would have put everyone-”

“And you lied to me to keep me there?!”

“-in danger. It was easier this way.”

“That was not the deal!”

“Everyone shut up!” Buck's voice rang out over the station. He got out of his seat, Bobby keeping a hand near his back until he was sure Buck was steady.

Buck cautiously moved toward Tommy, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “You- You're really here?”

All of the anger Tommy had for John fell away as he looked into Buck's eyes. He nodded. “I'm here. I'm so sorry, Buck, I didn't-”

Buck shook his head, “I- I don't care right now.” He brought a hand up to Tommy's chest. Felt the thump-thump-thump of his heart. The firmness of his chest. He felt up until he reached Tommy's collarbone, poking ever so slightly out from his shirt. Felt the warmth of his skin. The slight dip that led up to his neck that Buck always loved to linger on when they were alone in bed. He felt the roughness of a two day old beard as he felt up his neck and toward his jawbone. “My God.” The words were hushed, breathed out through trembling lips and red-rimmed eyes. He pressed their lips together so quickly, so urgently, that Tommy didn't even have time to register it. He moaned into the kiss, finally reaching out and wrapping his arms around Buck's waist, finding their home at the base of his back.

“Let's give them a minute,” Bobby said, gesturing for everyone to head downstairs.

“I need to brief them,” John replied, earning him a glare from everyone else in the room.

“We're giving them a minute,” Bobby demanded.

John didn't try to protest any further. He simply followed the others downstairs, allowing Buck and Tommy time to reconnect.

“I didn't know,” Tommy began, he and Buck seated on the couch. “I was never told that you thought I was dead.”

“I am so confused, Tommy, I don't... I'm not even sure if this is real, to be honest. Am I dreaming? I haven't... I haven't had a dream since you died. Is that what this is?”

Tommy shook his head. “It's not a dream, Evan.”

“Then what the hell happened?” Buck asked, going from anxious to frustrated, “Cause I'm kinda pissed.”

Tommy scooted closer to Buck, cautiously holding out his hands for Buck to take. There was hesitation, but Buck gave in.

“The night I went to the grocery store, I saw something. I, it was a murder.”

Buck's eyes widened. “A what?”

“Yeah, I know. When I was leaving the store, I went out the back way to avoid all the traffic at the main entrance. It was getting dark, and when I passed by the dumpsters out back I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I- this guy had shot another man. I got a good look at him, and he got a good look at me too, but he ran. I got out of the car, called 911, and tried to help the other guy, but he was dead.”

“I... My brain feels like it's about to explode, Tommy. I don't understand how this leads to me planning your funeral.”

Tears came to Tommy's eyes at the thought. He continued, “The police came first, and they were asking for descriptions and any information I had. Then, the FBI shows up, and the CIA, and suddenly I'm surrounded by agents from every agency that goes by initials. This guy, whoever I saw, was apparently a hitman. A good one. Like, ties to Russia and shit. Anyway, I'm being tossed into a van and told my life's in danger because this guy saw me.”

“This sounds like a really bad cop thriller, Tommy.”

Tommy let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, I know, believe me. But these agents are telling me that I need protection, this man has killed for less before, blah blah blah. They said he'd killed an entire family because the mom had witnessed one of his hits.”

Buck scoffed. “Apparently he's not that good if he keeps getting caught.”

“Evan,” Tommy said, eyes pleading, “they showed me crime scene pictures of what this man had done. Told me he'd do the same to you if I went home. It was... It was horrific.”

“They wouldn't even let you call me? Tell me you were okay? I was- I went through hell these past eight months.”

“They took my phone, said anything electronic was a risk. Said if I declined protection, if I went home to you, I was basically signing your death certificate. But I told them- I told them that I had to let you know something and they said to write you a letter. I wrote one every week. They said they'd deliver it to you.”

“They did not deliver any letters.”

“Yeah, I'm getting that now. Evan, I swear I had no idea they were going to tell you I was dead. No idea.” Tommy clung onto Buck's hands tighter, and Buck couldn't ignore the pang in his chest at having Tommy in front of him. Alive. With him. Beside him. Holding him.

“I believe you.” He was being honest. He did believe Tommy. He knew Tommy would do anything to keep him safe. He also knew Tommy would never agree to making Buck feel the way he had felt for the last eight months. “I am just... I am so confused right now. This all sounds so crazy and over- overwhelming, Tommy. And I really wanna punch that John guy, whoever the fuck he is. And I want-” he cleared his throat, eyes red with unshed tears. “I wanna go home, Tommy.”

Unable to hold himself back any longer, he leaned into Tommy. They met each other halfway, their foreheads pressed together. Buck reached up and cupped Tommy's cheeks, brushing his thumbs against the rough stubble. They closed their eyes and breathed each other in. Buck whispered, “Can we go home?”

John wanted to sit with them and go over everything before they left, but the boiling over rage from the both of them was evident, so he made a plan to speak with them the next day.

After brief hugs and hello's, along with endless apologies to everyone at the 118, Tommy and Buck left.

The ride home was oddly, but comfortably, quiet. Neither were totally sure what to say. Tommy had basically been a prisoner in a safe house for eight months until the FBI found this hitman. Buck had been living in a prison of his own, thinking the love of his life had been burned and buried.

“Home sweet home,” Buck said as they pulled into the driveway. He let go of Tommy's hand long enough for them to get out of the car.

They were interlaced once again as soon as Tommy walked around the Jeep.

Buck needed the touch. Needed to stay connected to Tommy somehow, so he didn't wake up from whatever dream he was in. If this wasn't reality, he wanted to stay wherever it was for the rest of his life.

They walked into the house slowly, Buck a step ahead of Tommy, leading the way.

Once the door was shut behind them, Tommy began looking around.

Everything was... the same. Besides a few of his houseplants being gone, but they never stood a chance in the first place.

Tommy stepped in front of Buck, gave his hand a squeeze before letting go, and continued further into the house.

Buck's body ached at the loss of Tommy's touch, but he let him go. Knew this was overwhelming for him too.

“You kept all my stuff,” Tommy noted, moving into the living room.

“Of course I did.”

“Even though you thought I was-”

“A part of me didn't believe it. I kept telling people that something felt wrong. Everyone said I was in denial; that I'd move on when I was ready.”

“God, this is so fucked up.” Tommy turned to face Buck. The space between them felt as though they might as well be a thousand miles apart. “It's okay if you're mad,” he said. “I understand.”

“I- I am mad,” Buck admitted. He moved closer to Tommy. Everything still felt so surreal. He wasn't even sure if this was actually happening right now. “I don't think I'm mad at you though. I- I'm mad at them.”

“Who?”

There were so many to choose from. “Everyone who took you away from me.”

Tommy nodded. “I'm mad at them too. They wasted eight damn months of my life. Our life.”

Buck cleared any remaining distance between them. He brought his hands to Tommy's waist slowly, dragging his hands up and down his sides, feeling the defined muscles that rested just beneath his shirt.

Tommy sunk into the touch. He watched Buck as he stared at his body. Looked over every inch of him to make sure Tommy wasn't a figment of his imagination.

Tommy brought a hand to Buck's chin, gently tilting his head up until their eyes met. “Can I kiss you?” he asked softly.

Buck sucked in a breath. “Please.”

Tommy brought their lips together gently, both of their bodies shaking with the need to be closer. Feel more.

Buck fisted Tommy's shirt in his hands, pushed their bodies as close as they could go with how they were standing.

Tommy brought his hands to the nape of Buck's neck as the kiss deepened. Their tongues met with a moan, teeth clashing together before Buck pulled back just far enough speak against Tommy's lips. “I don't want to be mad right now,” he whispered like a secret.

Tommy kissed him again. “What do you want?” he asked.

Buck slowly raised Tommy's shirt, just enough to get his hands underneath. He scratched his fingernails down Tommy's abs, causing Tommy to suck in a sharp breath. Chills covered his body.

Buck kissed Tommy's lips, then his cheek, this nipped at his jawline until he reached his ear. “I wanna to fuck you,” he answered.

They clumsily stumbled into the bedroom, stripping themselves of their clothes before falling onto the bed. “You've been working out a lot,” Buck noted between kisses, hands roaming over Tommy's body.

Tommy pressed himself against Buck, their cocks rubbing together, eliciting a groan from them both.

“There was quite literally nothing else to do,” Tommy replied.

Their bodies moved together so perfectly. Just like always. Like they had never been apart at all.

Tommy sucked on Buck's bottom lip, listening to the stunted gasps that escaped him with every thrust.

“You're so fucking beautiful,” Tommy said breathlessly. He bit at a spot on Buck's neck, Buck's hands tangling in Tommy's hair and tugging firmly.

“Tom- Tommy,” he whimpered out. “You gotta. I wanna- You gotta stop,” he managed to get out.

Tommy whined, but stopped his movements. The sound earned him a laugh from Buck. He caressed Tommy's cheek until he looked at him. “Wanna fuck you, remember? Not gonna last long if- if you keep going.”

Tommy nodded. He was seconds away from coming himself. It was easy to get lost in the feeling with Buck. Easy to lose control.

With one swift movement, Buck flipped them so he was on top. He may not have been working out as much as Tommy over the last few months, but he did have a lot of sessions with a punching bag recently, and right now he felt ready to take on the world.

Buck ran his hand over Tommy's chest, let his fingernails drag over his nipple, Tommy arching into the touch. He felt over every ab, traced Tommy's scar, moved down to his stomach. It was all so torturously slow, but so fucking wonderful.

He kissed his way down Tommy's body, stopping at his cock. He stared up at Tommy with heavy lidded eyes as he spit, letting the drool drip down from his mouth onto the head of Tommy's dick. “The first time I touched myself,” Buck said, finally taking Tommy's cock in his hand, dragging his hand up and down leisurely as Tommy's eyes fluttered shut, “after... you know.”

“Mhm.” Tommy managed to open his eyes again, trying to focus on Buck and his words instead of the warm, wet hand gliding over him.

“I had to stop. I tried to- to touch myself the way you always touched me, but I- I couldn't do it.”

“Oh God, Evan.” Tommy fucked himself into Buck's tight fist. He brought their lips together sloppily. “Wanna touch you like that again.”

Buck nodded. “You will,” he promised. “But not right now. Right now I need to be in you.”

“Please.”

Buck let go of Tommy long enough to reach into the bedside table and grab the lube. He put some on, Tommy spreading his legs as Buck reached down and slowly began inserting his finger.

“Ah,” Tommy gasped. He reached up and pulled Buck down for another kiss as Buck slowly pumped his finger in and out.

“You're so tight,” Buck panted into Tommy's mouth.

“Been a while.” Tommy began to grind down against Buck's finger, moaning loudly when it hit the perfect spot.

“Shit,” Buck whined. “You haven't... You didn't?”

“A finger or two.” Tommy planted his feet on the bed, getting better leverage to work himself up and down on Buck. “A- Another, Evan, please.”

Buck obliged, adding another finger along the first, eliciting a string of curses from Tommy.

“Fuck, fuck, fucking shit! It was never the same,” he added quickly, going back to the conversation. “Didn't- God, didn't feel like this. Evan, more!”

Buck silenced a moan with his mouth as he added a third finger, grinding his cock against Tommy's thigh. He knew he wasn't gonna last long. Knew Tommy wouldn't either. It didn't matter though. They had plenty of time to make up for what was lost.

“I- I'm ready. Just... I need-”

“I know.” Another kiss and Buck slipped his fingers out of Tommy. Tommy grabbed the lube from the side of the bed and tossed it in Buck's direction, getting a laugh out of him.

Soon enough, Buck had Tommy's legs on his shoulders and his cock was slowly, slowly, so fucking slowly, entering Tommy.

They stared into each others eyes, Tommy slack-jawed with tiny, breathy grunts escaping him every time Buck inched closer.

After what felt like an eternity, Buck bottomed out. He stilled, breathing heavily. “I gotta. Just. I need a second.”

“S'okay.” Tommy reached out and grabbed for Buck's hands, which were currently gripping Tommy's thighs. “S'okay,” he repeated.

A few seconds later, Buck began to move.

Slowly at first, letting Tommy get used to the feeling again. Hell, letting him get used to the feeling again.

“Ev- ah- Evan?”

“Yeah?”

“I- ah- I. I need-”

“What? What do- do you need?”

“Oh shit!" Tommy yelled as Buck snapped his hips forward. "Fuck me, Evan!”

That was all Buck needed to hear. He pushed himself up slightly, to get a better position, and began moving faster, faster, faster, harder, harder, harder. Each thrust pulled a new sound out of Tommy. Low, guttural groans.

The sound of their skin slapping together, the feeling of the sweat covering their bodies, the heat between them, the desperation over all they thought they'd lost.

It was too much.

“Evan, I- I'm gonna come.” He'd never been able to come untouched before. Always needed a hand on his cock to get there. Not this time though. He came with a sound so loud, Buck was sure the neighbors at the other end of the street could hear.

Tommy's legs dropped off of Buck's shoulders, but he quickly wrapped them around his back to make sure he didn't go anywhere.

“Tommy,” Buck gasped, each movement now with far less rhythm. “Tommy, i- is this real?”

Tommy pulled Buck closer, his fingernails digging into Buck's back. He moaned as Buck drove in deeper. “It's- I'm real,” he managed to breathe out. “I'm here, Evan.”

Buck groaned loudly, mouth pressed close to Tommy's ear, coming deep inside him. After a couple lighter, gentler thrusts, Buck stopped. He practically dropped all his body weight on top of Tommy. Tommy kept his legs wrapped tightly around him. Neither could seem to let the other go just yet.

Buck hid his head into Tommy's neck. “I missed you so much,” he whimpered out, both men trying to catch their breath. Tommy could feel the wetness of Buck's tears on his neck. “God, I- I missed you.”

Tommy brought his hands to Buck's head, carding his fingers through his hair. “I missed you every damn second of every damn day,” he replied.

After they cleaned up, Buck curled back into Tommy, intertwining their bodies at every point he could manage. Tommy wrapped Buck into his arms, and Buck laid his head on Tommy's chest. They laid in silence for a while, allowing themselves to feel and be felt for the first time in so long.

Buck was the first to break the silence, letting the words fall out like a secret admission. “John came to the house the day after you went missing. They... They said your car had been in an accident. That you, um, that it had caught on fire w- with you inside.”

Tommy's body stiffened underneath him. “Baby, if... if I'd known-”

“I know,” Buck assured him. He ran his hand up and down over Tommy's chest until he relaxed again. “I know it wasn't you.”

“I'm gonna ask John if he still has my letters,” Tommy said.

“You really wrote me letters?” Buck asked, stealing a glance up at Tommy.

“Mhm. I'm sure they all thought I was an absolute idiot, especially seeing as it was all a lie, but yeah, every week.”

Buck pressed a kiss to Tommy's pec before lying back down. “I hope they exist somewhere. I'd love to read them.”

“They were really fucking depressing. Turns out I don't handle being without you very well.”

“Oh, you should've seen me.” Buck traced circle patterns along Tommy's chest. “This was the first month I started trying. Trying to get back out and do things with people... I'm glad I don't have to try anymore.”

“That's probably something we should talk about, especially with our jobs.” He snuggled further under the covers, wrapping Buck even tighter in his arms. “Not tonight though.”

“No, not tonight,” Buck agreed.

They still had a lot to talk about. A lot of things that had to be sorted. Questions that needed answers. Issues that would need to be resolved.

But, for tonight, the only thing they needed was each other.

Each other, and the first good night's sleep for them both since the day Tommy disappeared.

That night, once sleep took over, Buck dreamt.

[kakashixhatakesxwhore]

hi! could you do the husband headcanons but for sasuke and suigetsu? ty <333

aight lets pop a lil part 2!!! thank you for the ask!!

Husband Headcanons II

for Sasuke and Suigetsu, with additions of Shikamaru, Neji, and Naruto (GN!Reader)

Your fav isn't mentioned? Check out Husband Headcanons 1, or shoot me a request!

Warnings: Crude language, swearing, alcohol mentions, cigarette mentions, lmk if this sucks

Masterlist💿

Sasuke

A very extravagant ceremony, but only populated by a select few people (friends and family)

The reception lasted until the sun started to shine over the horizon, leaving both you and Sasuke too inebriated to comsumate your marriage that night - the two of you hust stumbled home, tripping over each other's feet, and then threw yourselves onto the Queen bed you shared, falling asleep instantly

Your honeymoon would be a nice week spent in the Tea Lands of the Land of Flowers, sampling various blends and discovering a whole new world of aphrodisiacs

He would give you the time of day, every day, even a decade into your union

Every night, unless he absolutely couldn't, Sasuke would be with you, adoring you and teasing you, helping you care for any children the two of you may share

After so much time and so many events, Sasuke still finds you to be the most beautiful person in the world, and strives to prove his love to you in any way he can, whenever he can

Be that a prolonged embrace, or conversations that stretch forever, Sasuke would provide all the company in the world to you

On the few days he had to call his own, he would spend every waking second with you, taking you anywhere your heart desired

Sasuke would shower you in material love as well, ensuring that no matter which corner of your home you turned to, you'd see something from him and be reminded of his eternal promise

Suigetsu

He wanted a massive wedding, and to invite every living creature on the mortal plane - you talked him down, of course, getting him to settle on an open ceremony

A good chunk of people sent their RSVPs back, but you were boggled by how many people indeed turned up - it seemed Suigetsu had friends around the globe, all terribly excited to watch a beautiful ceremony and get totally fucked up at the reception

You and Suigetsu spent most of your reception dancing, with you having to discard your shoes an hour or two deep to properly get into your groove

He carried you home happily, just peaking with vigour, describing the rest of your night in salacious detail

To your joy, he delivered, almost having undershot his own capability

In the day to day, Suigetsu finds that it's easier to just not deligate homely tasks - if it's an issue now, it's your issue, Noticer

That said, he doesn't shirk responsibility by feigning ignorance; Suigetsu is actually very helpful around the house, cleaning up the mess before he left any room

Every few months, he'll come home with a huge bouquet of multi-coloured flowers, with one glass flower, hidden in the lively petals

"When the final flower dies, I'll stop loving you."

You have a collection of the glass flowers on your night stand - they greeted you every morning and whispered about love every night, always reinforcing Suigetsu's commitment to you

Shikamaru

You and Shikamaru, being from hauty clans, were sick to death of the arrangement-talks

So, you eloped

At the break of dawn, you and Shikamaru began traveling to the Land of Lightning - you made it to the Land of Hotsprings and got a room at an inn in the Hidden Steam, staying the night, before making it to the Hidden Cloud before noon the next day

The two of you signed the paperwork and paid the fees for an International Marriage License then spent the rest of your wedding day walking around the Hidden Cloud

You had to go back to the Hidden Leaf soon enough, and when you did, you presented the marriage license to your father and told him there was nothing to be done about it - he could keep the dowry and expect no bride price

Both clans were unimpressed by the impulsiveness of your actions, but soon you and Shikamaru were allowed to honeymoon in the Land of Frost, the land which you skipped over in your journey to the Cloud

Despite never making any grand gestures, or writing any sonnets about you, Shikamaru lets you know he loves you in a multitude of other ways

He takes you out constantly, always needing to show you off and find things that you both could enjoy - he's always complimenting you, no matter the audience, just so you know that he thinks you're the most divine sight in the world

The most frequent pastime the two of you share is rolling cigarettes - talking for hours and hours, you and Shikamaru fold, load, and roll the white papers into perfect cylinders

You two would roll too many for one smoker to ever keep up, and you had to stop buying metal tins for storage, switching to folding up paper boxes to put the blems in

It became something of a business, selling the pre-rolled cigarettes in paper boxes to the adults of the village

The dimes you two got for your work and tobacco didn't matter to Shikamaru, he was just content, being present with you in the moment

Neji

Sweet darling Neji would have no choice but to invite the entire Hyuga clan, even though he wanted an intimate ceremony

It's okay, it's alright, so long as you're the one coming down the aisle, Neji would be happy

He cries when he sees you, overwhelmed by loving emotions and hope for a future as bright as your smile

Once the wedding guests left, and the ceremony switched to reception, Neji got to cut loose in front of only his closest friends and celebrate the victory of his union with you

He was insatiable at the bar, for only an hour

Then he was pasted to your side, just waiting for the reception to be over, whispering and teasing you about how excited you must be for the after-afterparty

It was projection, but he was right

You two called off the reception early, antsy to get back to your shared home

For the honeymoon, Neji takes you to the Southern border of the Grasslands and Waterlands - to a village that sat at the junction of a waterfall and a luscious field

The village was breathtaking, and Neji took you all over, even behind the waterfall

Neji's constantly taking you different places, allowing you to take the advantage of his position as a DIPLOMAT (yeah, he didn't die, he needed a job) that he wished he could

After every long meeting, he comes back to you, and will always suggest a walk at some point or another, no matter where you are in the world

But your favourite place to walk, and Neji's, was around the Hyuga compound in the Hidden Leaf, and just outside to where you two met - neither of you could turn down a chance to reminisce

Naruto

Huge ceremony, literally everyone who's anyone is there - Naruto organized firecrackers to shoot off during the uniting kiss, which scared the hell out of you but made him laugh, taking you safely into his arms and placing a reassuring kiss to your lips

The reception seemed to be even bigger, not a soul leaving, and a partying spirit vibrant in the air

You and Naruto wowed the crowd with a series of dances, but settled to watch the communal joy together after a little while

Gentlemanly, Naruto whisked you away from the recption, not wanting to disturb the party but not being able to spend another second not ravishing you like the treat you are

Not just wanting to take you to some stupid Land for your honeymoon, Naruto purchased a sail boat to take you out for a month

On the ocean, the two of you quickly got your bearings and grew even closer than before

You traveled from Land to Land, stopping to port every few weeks to pick up some food and put empty crates back into circulation

At one point, your path crossed with that of a pirate ship - Naruto made quick work of them, ensuring your safety without doubt

It's an entire adventure, out where the horizon blends, melding sky and sea together

Whatever you enjoy, Naruto will not only supply, but try to enjoy, himself

If you like to read, he'll get you every book his wallet can stretch for, and then he'll read the books right after you're done with them, readying himself to talk about themes and motifs with you, even if the concepts don't quite click for him

He's always trying for you - trying new foods, new things, new experiences, new looks

Naruto can't believe you're really in love with him, even after being married for so long, so he feels the need to constantly improve for you, to be the man he thinks you deserve

That's his favourite thing about you: the way you incline him to further his abilities, always encouraging him to be the best he can be

Naruto would just be smitten with you, and always would be, and you would always be his personal cheerleader

[winterarmyy]

Plot Twist | Part II

An arranged marriage with mafia!bucky. 

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III* (end) | Extra

Words: 2.5k++ (whoops, this one’s longer)

Pairing: beefy mafia!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: only soft things most of the time. bucky's 'innocent' seduction, and reader is a bit extreme when she's angry. a bit of attempted murder but we can turn a blind eye on that. otherwise, safe to read.

A/N: Thank you so much for the incredible support from the previous chapter! I thought this gonna be a flop tbh. I’m still gonna do either way, it’s for my own indulgence after all. But, now that I know lots of you are on board, I’m thrilled to take y’all along for the ride! Enjoy!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

“Where is she?” Bucky had been searching for his wife in the crowd, but he was left disappointed when he wasn’t able to catch not even a glimpse of her.

Steve leaned closer, “Clint said they’re on the way a few minutes ago. They should be here any second now.” He informed.

Bucky seemed dissatisfied with his answer; maybe he should’ve come home first and come this gala with her. But Steve insisted that he was already late due to the flight delay, and he should just go straight from the airport. His wife would come later her own, should be fine.

“Fine my ass.” He thought. For some reason Bucky had been restless lately. Maybe he had been away from his wife for too long. He was thinking of taking some time off from this business, perhaps finally bringing Y/N to a trip somewhere.

They didn’t spend much time together, but when they did it was well-spent. At least that’s what Bucky think. After the reception ceremony, he brought Y/N straight home. He had to catch a flight later that night. Something about having “Some contract to settle at in Italy. I’ll be back in two weeks or so.”

Y/N was still in her wedding dress when he tell her the news. He remembered her looking sombre but she didn’t complaint at all; instead she looked up to him as said, “Have a safe trip, please.” Bucky didn’t expect her to look at him so yearningly. He wondered what was she thinking when she said that.

For a moment, he thought of cancelling everything and stay in New York. Spend time with her, get to know her. But thinking back about the piles of workload he had on his back, he quickly snapped back to reality.

As Bucky was walking out, about to leave his newly wedded wife at the door; he hesitated. He paused as his gaze trained on her, what should he do? Kiss her goodbye? Hug her?

Y/N looked up with eyes filled with confusion. Did he forget something? Is there something he wanted to tell her?

Bucky himself doesn’t know what to do. “Fuck it.” So, he simply turn around and left her internal questions unanswered. Trailing closely behind Steve greeted Y/N goodbye before jogging up to Bucky.

“Who’s in charge of her?” Bucky asked as him and Steve walked towards the car. “Clint.” Steve answered right when they meet up with Clint himself at the car door. Bucky sharpen his stare as Clint opened the door for him, “Keep me posted.” He ordered.

Turning back, Bucky took one last look at her; she was still standing stood at the entrance. Gloom seemed to surround her, but he could see she was trying to put up a strong face. His eyes soften for a second as he thought, “She does look gorgeous in that dress.”

He felt bad during the trip. He doesn’t particularly know why, but his heart aches whenever he thought of his wife was standing there when the car drove farther away from the mansion. Maybe it was the look she gave him before he left. Or maybe he was just getting mellow, as Steve said.

So, he did everything he could to make it up for his absence. Jewelleries, clothes, shoes; anything expensive that he set his eyes on when he was away. That was the only thing he can do; at least the only thing he knew women liked. Prettiest things for the prettiest lady.

Alas, none of the gifts he gave her ever really made her happy. Clint said she accepted it but always in a reluctant manner.

“He didn't have to give me this...”

“I can't possibly accept this...”

“Do I really have to…”

Her behavior left Bucky beyond puzzled. He didn’t know what to do; he barely knew her. So, he went with the most generic way to make a woman happy. Though it didn't completely backfire, but he wasn’t satisfied with her response.

Until one day, a ‘revelation’ he called. A ‘sign from God’ for those who believe. He found the answer when he was in Paris, two months after he was declared as a married man. On the way to his meeting, he drove by a cute café. Its’ surrounding layout was adorned mixture of white, pink, and peach roses. A thought came up to him as he remembered a moment during his wedding reception.

  ~Flashback~

“Do you think it's possible to keep my bouquet?” Bucky heard Y/N whispered to one of the wedding planners that attend the reception. The man nodded as he explained that he can arrange the request for her. She smiled brightly and thanked the man.

Bucky watched her with a spark of curiosity in his eyes. He had to ask, “You like roses?” it was short, straight to point. The question seemed to take her by surprise, Bucky never asked useless question like this.

“I love this particular type of rose.” She answered. A soft smile brightened her pretty face. A sincere expression that Bucky rarely sees in a person anymore.

He liked that.

He wanted to see more.

Wanting to continue the innocent conversation, he asked, “There's a difference?” He quirked an eyebrow.

It seems there was a silly thought that came across her mind as she giggled, “If I tell, it will only bore you.” she said.

There was glimmer in her eyes, purposely luring him to provoke her; a powerful seduction it was indeed, he leaned closer towards her, "Prove it."

~End Flashback~

“Steve, tell Clint to arrange a bouquet for her.” Bucky said, something in his eyes lifted his expression. There was no special occasion this time. It just reminds him of her.

Steve looked over him, “The usual red roses?” he asked, as if Bucky had done it was a daily occurrence.

“No…” an unconscious smile creeped up on him, "…white majolica spray roses." He said as he recalled the way she said it.

Turns out that was the best gift amongst all he gave so far. His chest seemed to tighten and soared at the time whenever he recalled how Clint explained her reaction to it.

“The widest smile he ever saw.” Clint said.

Too bad Bucky wasn't there to see it for himself.

Bucky was woken from his daydream when he heard a commission at the other side of the hall. When he turned to his left, he didn’t see Steve anywhere, he was supposed to be there. But it didn’t take long until Steve popped up in his view.

Steve walked up to the group of where Bucky was hanging around since he arrived. He faked the sincerest smile at them, “Gentlemen.” He nodded once, before leaning closer to Bucky, “It’s Y/N.”

Upon hearing her name, Bucky didn’t waste any more of his time with the meaningless small talk and left the group. Unlikely of him to leave without a proper greeting but it’s his wife for fuck’s sake.

Bucky nearly printed, “She arrived a few minutes ago and went to grab a drink.” Steve said. His brows quirked into a deeper frown, “Unsupervised? In here?” Bucky growled. Steve knew better to leave his wife in this ‘battlefield’ alone. “No, Clint was...”

The first thought that came to him was she was in danger and that pumped a rush of adrenaline through him. But it was far from the truth. In fact, quite the opposite. When Bucky managed to slither through the crowd he ended up stopping at his track.

His wife was the center of attention; two feet in front of her was a woman, tall and blonde. An empty glass in Y/N’s hand. Red wine soaked into the silk of her dress; leaving an eye-sore of a stain on her beautiful lilac dress.

“Do you think this is funny?” there was a grit in Y/N’s voice, nothing like the gentle tone she used around Bucky.

Foolish woman she was, that blonde, believing what she did was amusing. Purposely stepping on Y/N’s dress, and when she was left unguarded the woman lifted the bottom of the glass that Y/N was holding spilling the deep red drink on her dress.

“It’s a little bit funny.” The blonde giggled gleefully. And she was out there thinking that ridiculing Y/N Barnes was a humorous joke. Unaware of how petrified the people surrounding them. No one messes with Barnes. No one.

Y/N stood tall and proud; she tried to remain unfazed by childish tricks as this. A smile curved on her lips; with a wave of her hand, a waiter came to her side and take away the empty glass from her hand before quickly retreated.

She walked gracefully towards the woman; surely the blonde was taller than her but somehow Y/N managed to make her feel like she was being looked down upon, “Oh dear…” Y/N chuckled.

Despite the light laughter from Y/N, there was a sudden change in the thickness of the atmosphere. It was much heavier, sturdier, quieter. Standing face to face, eye to eye, the dumb blonde finally realized the trouble she was in, especially with wordless superiority that Y/N was exuding.

Very much resembling Bucky’s, or perhaps the very opposite.

If Bucky’s was winter cold, hers was searing fire.

“Go ahead, laugh again. Best believe that I will shove this knife down your throat when you do.”, what a menacing gaze in those coffee-stained eyes of hers.

The woman was caught of guard when she saw a blade in Y/N’s hand. When did she got her hands on one of those? Perhaps if she was vigilant enough, she would’ve seen when Y/N pulled the knife from her thigh strap from the hidden side of her leg.

Alas she was stupidly brave to counter Y/N’s threat. “I-in front of these p-people? You wouldn’t dare.” She stumbled upon her own words.

Amused, Y/N simply smiled, “You think they would care? Look around, you fool.”

The crowd was split into two categories; those who was scared for their own life and those who wanted to see blood. But both of them doesn’t give enough of a care about the life of another foolish woman who doesn’t know her place.

Y/N was right. And the woman was deemed to meet her doom.

“Come on now, ‘it’s a little bit funny’ right?” Y/N taunted her with a wickedly innocent giggle, before charging the knife to the woman’s throat.

Y/N was expecting to feel the blade sunk into her flesh, thrilling to see blood spilled from the wound but instead, she was stopped by a grip on her wrist, pulling her away from her target, “Woah there, tiger.” She recognized this voice anywhere.

“Bucky…” she whispered his name as he pulled her closer; her back flushed against his sturdy chest, muscular arms around her waist. “Okay, okay. Easy now...” His hand grazed along her wrist up to her palm, taking away the weapon from her hand.

“That’s it. Calm down, honey. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt, would we?” Bucky dipped his face to the side of her neck, whispering sweet nothings in her ear; his thumb rubbing her waist, coaxing her to submit. Y/N does not know what kind of sorcery was involved, but he managed to calm her down. She leaned further into his embrace as she place her hand top of Bucky’s.

Bucky eyed Steve, giving a signal to take care of the rest of the mess, as he gracefully lead his wife away, towards the balcony for some privacy. As soon as they step outside, the cold air breezed on the surface of her exposed skin, waking her up from the lavender haze Bucky lured her into.

Having her back facing towards Bucky, she could hear him closing the door and walking up to her. She was still pissed off about the whole ordeal, but somehow her husband still managed to sway her around to face him, “It’s just a dress, we can buy more it you want.” He coaxed with a gentle caress on her arms.

“That’s not the point.” She spat, an upset frown decorating her pretty face.

But that only soften Bucky even more, “Then?”

However, she remained silence. In fact, she doesn’t know how to say it. She just looks down at the stain on her dress, “It was a gift from you.” and yet the words left unsaid.

Bucky followed her gaze; the stain was surely prominent on the pastel dress. Dragging his eyes lower, he can see the wine dripping on exposed thighs through the slit of dress, bit by bit flowing lower towards her ankle.

He lightly push her back against the railing before going down on his knees. Wordlessly, he lifted her leg and place it on his thigh; he could feel the thin heel of her shoes digging into his skin, but he didn’t care. Y/N didn’t question any of his action, especially when he pull out a handkerchief from the pocket of his suit and gently wipe the excess fluid from her skin.

“Why are you mad, doll? Tell me.” His tone was honeyed as if he was pleading, as his hands keep dapping the wetness away.

There was a few seconds of stillness before Y/N finally confessed, “It was a gift from you.”

Bucky looked up at her, “What is?” As if he didn’t notice the first time he saw it.

She sighed an exhausted breath, “This dress. It was the very first gift you’ve given me.” She sounded genuinely upset. A tiny pout was starting to form on her lips.

Deciding to play dumb, Bucky asked, “Oh, is it?” he grinned a foolish smile.

Y/N wanted to wipe that smug from his face, “I’m being serious, Buck! I—” her words were cut short as she felt Bucky’s lips on her thighs. His gaze dragged slowly from her eyes and downwards to where was planting his invisible marks. Litters of feather-like kisses, as he hands gently grip on the back of thigh and calve.

“Bucky… What are you doing?” her brain was unable to render a full thought, while he lungs seemed to forgot how process air for her to breathe.

He lifted his head up for a second, “You’re just so precious, doll...” He smiled, dipping back and planted another kiss, “…that’s all.” He mumbled against her skin.

His stubble felt too good she almost melted where she stood, “I—I’m still pissed off.” She faked her anger, hoping it will stop him from doing such intimate thing in a public place like this.

Bucky willed himself to stop, as he knew if this kept going, he might go all the way regardless of where they are, “Then, let’s get out of here. What do you think?” He placed her leg down as he stood on his feet.

The offer seemed tempting, Y/N was feeling a little bit hungry and everything in the gala was bite-sized. That’s not food. At least not in her book. Her eyes brighten to the thought of having proper meal, “Can we? But aren’t you like, an important person?” she peeked at the glass door ahead, the silhouettes of people moving around, laughing; seemed like they were enjoying the gala.

“Compared to you? Never.” There was a hint of flirtatiousness in his tone. Playful, yet flirty.

Y/N rolled her eyes, “That’s not what I meant.”

Bucky chuckled as he held out his hand, silently inviting her to an unplanned rendezvous, “Come on, sweets. Anywhere you want to go.”

<< Part I || Part III >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Feel free to share your thoughts 🤍

[running-with-kn1ves]

Satin Pillows To Cry On

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

gn! reader

﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“All right..” You acquiesced. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[noparadiseinthis]

English is not my first language. Bear with me, Grammarly helps, but it doesn't work miracles.

About ties and shoes (or "when did it stop being 'us'?")

James Wilson/fem!wife!Reader

Warnings: James Wilson at a wedding is his own warning. Mentions of Wilson's infidelity and failed marriages. Angst without comfort. House surprisingly being an almost decent person.

Summary: You were never one to pay much attention to what other people wore, not even your husband. Until House commented on your new tie and shoes, which you'd never seen before.

Words: 1k

Things hadn't been on the best terms between you and Wilson lately, he always seemed stressed and tired, coming home late and going straight to bed. Ignoring your good night, your hugs, and your lovingly prepared dinner in the hope that this time he would bother to eat with you. Even the lunches you used to share during your breaks no longer exist; your messages are answered only with "Sorry, I've already had lunch." I. When did it stop being "us"?

Today would be different. You'd surprise him at the hospital and have lunch with your husband and House - your husband's husband - the grumpy man couldn't monopolize him forever. Over time, you ended up developing a reluctant companionship with House.

Taking the lunch you had prepared earlier out of your bag, you left work and started walking to the hospital, which was on the same street.

●●●

Recognizing you, the reception staff let you pass without much fuss, and no one gave you a second glance in the corridors. You didn't find your husband in the room itself, which must have meant you were with House, it was always House.

"Knock knock." You said with a smile, her knuckles tapping against the open door.

James turned around, a shy smile appearing on his face as you entered the room. House just looked up.

"Let's see if that isn't the lovely fourth Mrs. Wilson," he said in a monotone.

James glared at his friend, hating that nickname every time it was uttered, but you just rolled your eyes, having gotten used to it a long time ago.

"I brought your lunch, I thought we could have lunch together today," you muttered, approaching your husband with a smile and bending down to kiss his cheek.

"Own, he's still blushing" House mocked.

"Shut up," Wilson muttered, masking his red cheeks as he sank into his lab coat. "My lunch break is ending, actually," he said, a sad look appearing as he saw your disappointment and your dying smile, "but House's is just starting; he can keep you company."

"Ah," you gasped, your mouth hanging open in surprise as you tried to force yourself to smile.

"Oh oh, someone's going to sleep in the doghouse."

Wilson shot an angry glance, before looking back at you with a sad, reluctant smile.

"I'm sorry, darling." He bent down to kiss your forehead "I promise I'll make it up to you," he whispered into your ear.

So shaken, you didn't even bother to leave House's office, throwing yourself into the armchair from which your husband had left.

"Oh, we're staying then?" He said with irritation as Wilson walked out the door.

You knew that most of this picking on you was purely out of a habit of despising any human being, so you didn't let one more thing bother you while you opened your lunch.

"Oh, she's going to eat too"

Silently you placed Wilson's food on the table, pushing it towards him.

"Thank you," you heard him whisper.

●●●

"You've got to stop giving Wilson ties, I can't keep up anymore. What about the shoes? It's like he's a fucking dancer" House grumbled as he ate his food as if it had offended him personally, but as he hadn't complained yet, you could only assume that he liked it.

The clattering of your fork stopped immediately as you swallowed and processed what he'd said, raising your head with a deep crease between your eyebrows.

"I never gave James ties or shoes."

Gregory sighed.

"Never mind then," he muttered back, shrugging.

His words from years ago on meeting her made you wince. "When Wilson started wearing ties and new shoes I knew there was a future fourth Mrs. Wilson out there."

"What are you talking about, House?" you asked suspiciously.

"Oh, it's no big deal, I must have been mistaken. I know you two are fine, after all, Wilson has been leaving early every day to have dinner with you."

That was the last straw. House observed the myriad of emotions in you. The shock, the attempted denial, the sadness and hurt, and finally, the anger as you stood up abruptly and left the room without saying a word, but it wasn't necessary; he already knew why.

Staring at his wall, Gregory remembered a conversation from years ago. Wilson's words were still etched in his mind: "Oh no, she doesn't give me those kinds of gifts. She's the type who cooks for me and stuff, if I want something material, I'll probably have to ask."

He didn't feel a shred of remorse. Never meddled in any of your friends' marriages; didn't like their wives enough for that. You were... bearable. The kind that deserved to know.

●●●

A locked door. The door to their bedroom had never been locked before. The kitchen was untouched, where dinner would normally be ready and a plate prepared for him. James frowned, pulling out his cell phone to look at the date, wondering if he had forgotten any important dates.

"Darling? Are you all right in there?" shouted through the door, his confusion audible in his voice.

"Go away, James!" you exclaimed, your voice tearful.

"Are you crying? What's the matter? Talk to me, love." he replied, beginning to worry more and more.

"Get out of my life!"

Inside, you remembered all the good memories with your husband. All the times he reassured you and dispelled all your insecurities with his kisses and affection, how he made sure you knew you were the most important person in his life. How you were the idiot who believed that a man had betrayed so many times would change for you. How you deliberately chose to ignore your past, thinking you were marrying a different man. James Wilson never changed and never would.

●●●

House heard the noise on his cell phone and approached the coffee table to read the new message.

Wilson

What did you say to her, you bastard?

With a sigh, he off the screen. This was no longer your problem.

[avoxrising]

The Feral One • Ch 18

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

Ahhh I love the wedding part

Content Warnings - None :)

You wake up to find yourself in the extra bed in Finnick’s room, your memories continue to flood back in. Why did you think asking Peeta would be a good idea? Why didn’t you listen to Finnick when he said you shouldn’t ask?

He notices you are awake and brings you a glass of water.

“Is that why you don’t want to sleep with me?” you ask him. He looks back at you with sad eyes.

“I didn’t want to trigger you,” he replied. “Once I realized you didn’t remember it felt wrong to. I couldn’t do that with you knowing you were in the dark about what had previously happened, but at the same time I knew that not reminding you was the better option.”

“I don’t know if it would trigger me,” you admit. “I don’t want it to but I’m scared it might. And what if I trigger your memories too?”

Finnick sighs as he sits down next to you. “Then we will just have to work through them together.”

“Together,” you smile.

The day of your fake wedding quickly arrives. You had been staying in Finnick’s room since your breakdown because your doctor agreed it was best for you. Finnick still had to carry sedative but he hasn’t had to use it.

You are quickly whisked off to Katniss’ room to get ready. Your fear of touch is somewhat back but having the prep team verbally explain to you what they’re doing before they touch you made it bearable.

They worked quickly, keeping your makeup simple and leaving your hair down and in its natural texture. The look was so different than a traditional capital look. You loved it. They even covered up the scar on your face, giving you a gentler look.

When you finished putting on your dress, you exit the bathroom to find Mags standing there with tears in her eyes.

“Mags!” you gasp, running to the woman and pulling her into a hug. Last you had heard she was in hiding in District 4.

“The rebels were able to fly her out last night,” Effie explains as she watches your reunion. “She wanted to be here for your fake special day.”

“Beautiful,” Mags mumbles as she touches your face. Thank goodness your makeup was waterproof.

You clutched her arm tightly as if she may disappear at any moment. You hadn’t hugged her since before the incident nor had you really spoken to her since. Despite your recent setback, you were making progress.

“Will you walk me down the aisle?” you ask her and she eagerly nods her head. The prep team hands you your shoes to put on and you finish getting ready, eager for the practice run of something you hope to do for real in the future.

Walking down the aisle felt surreal. Why were you so nervous for a fake wedding? You told yourself it was because of the cameras and let Mags continue to walk you towards Finnick.

Finnick looked stunning in Peeta’s old suit. His hair was also kept in its natural texture and his face was makeup free. Mags gave him a kiss on the hand as she handed you to him.

The ceremony was a traditional District 13 one. Plutarch had asked if you wanted to incorporate any District 4 traditions but you both said no, wanting to save them for a real wedding.

District 13 does not do vows. For them, marriage is more of a formality than a romantic occasion. Finnick and you stand there facing each other as the officiant reads off District 13’s proclamation of marriage. When the reading is done, you lean in for a kiss.

Your first public kiss with Finnick garnered cheers and cries from the crowd. Never in a million years did you ever think you would be able to love so publicly, not with Snow’s threats looming over your heads. Something about this felt so right, and you promised yourself that after the war you would marry Finnick; for real.

The reception was beautiful. Effie had picked a colorful array of flowers to decorate the hall with and Peeta had made you a wonderful cake. You spent the evening dancing with Finnick and chatting with the attendees. Eventually the event winded down and Plutarch thanked you for the footage.

The deal was done. You could now officially live with Finnick.

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*if the tag didn’t work please check your settings to make sure other blogs can tag you

[intothedysphoria]

The podcast was Steve’s idea.

It had started with a joke from Heather. She’d took one look at Billy and Steve’s accidentally matching gym clothes and told them they looked like a failing alpha bro podcast duo. The type of guys who’d talk about being alpha males. Billy had laughed hard but it had made Steve think.

They’d been best friends since kindergarten and were functionally inseparable. Billy had seen Steve through a long period of deep, dark depression and Steve liked to think he’d helped Billy through Neil. Most podcasts Steve had listened to, the hosts didn’t even sound like they liked each other. They’d be perfect.

It took Steve about a month to convince Billy to put himself in front of a microphone. For a guy with a 300k follower Instagram thirst trap account, Billy was crushingly self conscious about his voice. He’d been on testosterone for three years but still felt like he sounded “clockable.” It wasn’t until Steve promised that if they got even one comment about Billy’s voice, they’d immediately delete the episode, that Billy agreed.

Between the two of them, they had absolutely no qualifications to start an agony aunt podcast. Still, the first episode was released onto Spotify and it had a surprisingly warm reception. Most of their listeners were queer or neurodivergent and were asking about what to do when a hookup went wrong or how to go outside without having a panic attack.

It was heartwarming really, the affect Steve felt that they were having. Two trans guys talking openly about sex, relationships, social faux pas, fitting in and the occasional tangent on oyster forks wasn’t exactly common. And their audience seemed to cling to them like two older brother figures.

It was perfect. Should have been perfect. It was just that there was a bit of a side affect.

As it turned out, spending every week with your best friend, who was physically just your type, and was also just an absolute sweetheart, led to having a crush on said best friend.

That is if you were Steve anyway. Shit.

Most guys on realising they were crushing hard on their best friend probably would have done something normal, like tell him. Not Steve though. Steve endeavoured to lock himself in the broom closet and scream before every recording session of the podcast.

It would work. Hopefully.

Then Billy started getting random listeners proposing to him via email. They’d read them out before every advice segment and Billy would either accept or decline depending on how funny he found it but it still made Steve die a little inside. Billy felt like his in some intangible, indescribable way and even jokes about marriage felt like suffocating.

He redownloaded Grindr the next day. The guys on there left a lot to be desired, especially compared to Billy but at least it stopped Steve from feeling quite so lonely. He flirted, made decisions that made Robin tut and generally started morphing into the kind of hot mess Steve had been in his late teens.

Billy didn’t seem to notice. That is until he did.

Steve was very late for recording the newest episode, a silly one about accents. He hadn’t remembered to shave so the patchy stubble that hrt was helping him grow in was a mess. There was gum stuck to to the bottom of his shoe. Something had gotten spilled on his shirt.

His co host once again looked delicious. Delicious and worried. So worried in fact that he dragged Steve into the very closet that he’d spent almost two months hiding in.

There was only so long Steve could hedge around the issue. Not with Billy worrying about all the things that could have gone wrong, anxious brain in overdrive. Steve had to tell him.

A short, excruciating silence followed after Steve admitted his crush/budding love. One that the slightly irrational part of his mind was convinced would culminate in Billy punching him again.

That didn’t happen.

Instead, Billy called him a dumbass, they made out under a precarious tin of paint for fifteen minutes, and agreed that getting together was long overdue.

The first email they got from a listener after going public about their relationship was short and to the point.

Can I propose to both of you?

I think it was @camaro-and-smokes and @prettyboy-like-you who reblogged being interested in the og post about this idea and since I am a fic writing weirdo, I wanted to write a little ficlet for them! I hope you both like it

(Inspired LOOSELY by the hilarious Help I Sexted My Boss podcast which I adore. Also inspired a smidge by Lust For Life by @oopsiedaisiesbaby)

[mayaflowerxs]

WHERE’S THE GROOM?

Synopsis: What was meant to be a simple bachelor & bachelorette party for the wed to be couple. The night ends in massive chaos, how much worse could it get? Oh right, the groom goes missing, the mafia is after you and the wedding is in a few short hours. How on earth will you make it to the wedding on time?

Warning: Humor / SMUTTY / Angsty? LONG Fic, A bit angsty not too much promise, Swear word usage, alcohol/drugs consumptions! TW blood, vomit. Mentions of abortion, pregnancy. Gambling, accidental marriage, stripping, vandalizing and Illegal activity, massive hang over inspired by the movie The Hangover. F!boy & groom!Jaemin, Strict & Maid of honor!reader. Enemies to lovers type trope.

Pairing: Jaemin x f!reader

The phone rang once…twice…thrice

“Hello?” The worried feminine voice says the second they answer the phone. “Hey Angie…” you let out awkwardly. A relieved sigh is heard, a few voices you can’t quite make out in the background but it sounds hushed and you can only assume they’re asking the woman on the phone with you to ask their questions. “Hun where are you? You left sometime last night and you’re no where to be found.” She asks you worriedly.

“Mark nor any of the guys are here, are they with you?” Dejected by the fact that the very man you’re currently searching for wasn’t at the reception, you look behind you. All four guys, beaten and bruised leaned exhaustedly on the beat up car. None being Mark. Checking the time, a good five hours before the wedding starts. There’s no way you could even get there in time nonetheless find the missing groom on top of that. After searching a whole day for him, you wonder if he’ll ever show up. You don’t know how much longer you can go in keeping this reality a secret to your best friend, so with that you decide to simply come out with the truth. “Angie I got to tell you something…”

3 DAYS EARLIER

The time was nearing. Time ticked which meant the stress was at an all time high. Demands were shout left and right, speed bumps are bound to appear and a distressed maid was at the brink of losing it. And as the maid of honor, it was your duty to keep things at bay. As much as you possible could, going through the check list phone calls were endless. Customer service was complete Bull and the amount of patience was thinning each passing second but you pulled through. Because if there isn’t a stable maid of honor, there is no stable bride which means no stable wedding.

“Are the bridesmaid dresses here?” You hear Angie’s mother ask one of the housekeepers. Living in a large mansion Angie’s father gifted her for her wedding gift, the large house is now packed with guests. The wedding coordinator, the stylists for hair, dress, makeup, shoes everything were here and with their many suitcases of items. The gardeners out back finishing the last touches of their work, the ice sculpture was strolled in by the carriers. “What is that doing here?” The large chunk of ice sculpted Mark dipping Angie with a bouquet of roses in her hands. “This shouldn’t be here until the day of the wedding.” Louis the wedding coordinator claps his hands at the men. Shrugging they take a step back. “We were told to deliver it the 10th.” “No, I said the 14th and besides it’s not even the 10th it’s the 11th?!” Sighing he shakes his head and shoos them away. “Esmeralda!” He calls out for one of the cooks, “Put it in the freezer for now.” He says before walking off.

Eyes widened as she takes a look at the large sculpture. “But…how?”

The loud barking of Angie’s Great Dane is heard as he comes hurling in from being outside in the backyard. Trailing in tracks of dirt, everyone is frantic to get him away from the decorations that were mostly of warm/bright colors. Chasing after Billy, the orange cat your best friend insisted on keeping after finding him in the trash can. The two knock into the furniture and even manage to break a vase. “Bobby!” The maid’s mother shouts for the butler. And as the house erupts in chaos, just in comes the happy couple. Hand in hand beaming from ear to ear. “Y/n!” Angie beams upon seeing your frantic state. Rushing over to you, she wraps her arms around you. “Can you believe the bachelorette party is tomorrow? Gosh and we got to be in Vegas tonight!” Only letting out a mere chuckle, with her still hugging you, you quickly extend your leg out to catch the flower vase that was tipped over by her Great Dane.

“Oh Henry! Are you excited too?” She pulls away to hug the large dog. Walking over and grabbing the vase from where it leaned on your foot, you send Mark an appreciative smile. “Sorry about the wreck.” He tells you, shrugging you shove him playfully. “Isn’t that what weddings are about? Stressing the hell out of you until you’re pushed into the arms of hard liquor?” Snorting he nods, “Well at least we have a quick break before the real shit goes down.” “Yeah easy for you to say I don’t see you stressing over what napkins matches the theme color.” Rolling his eyes he grins, “You know Angie is fine with whatever right? We never wanted a big wedding, hell we could’ve just gotten married in a random chapel.”

“Absolutely not.” You frown at the thought. “I’m Angie’s best friend and as her best friend she automatically gets the best quality a best friend could give her which is a fantastic coordinated wedding. The least I could do, now as I told her I’m going to tell you, do not worry, have fun and don’t mess with anything I didn’t approve of you to touch!” Slapping his hand away from the wedding cake that was being strolled in, he winces and pouts slightly. “Geez okay.” He huffs but smiles regardless. “Now let me get back to my duties-“ you move past him and start barking orders again. “Those dresses need to be hanged not a single wrinkle in sight! When I go outside it better look exactly as I saw it in the catalogue. Those petals need to be displayed out on the grass ASAP, chop chop people!”

“I see she’s still the same bossy devil I saw a few months back,” Mark hears his friend mutter. Looking over and seeing Jaemin and the others enter the house he’s quick to greet them. Pat to the back as they grin at him, “Ready for Vegas?” Jeno asks him, “Hell yeah.” He chuckles. “But! Nothing too crazy right?” He points a stern finger at them, “We heard you loud and clear the first sixteen times man promise it’s just going to be a casual night at a casino.” Chenle raises his hand. Grinning he nods, “Alright, Vegas here we come!” Cheering with him, they whistle and hoot until it echoes throughout the house.

Five in the afternoon and it seems like there’s still so much to do. But you could only do so much, “Bitch, I promise everything is under control it’s why I’m here! Isn’t this why I was contracted?” Bobby crosses his arms and looks around for approvals from the other bridesmaids. “Bitch?…” you mutter to yourself, never were you called that before. Couldn’t tell if the gays meant that as an insult or a compliment. Probably neither but as he snapped his fingers and pushed you out the door, he grabs your luggage and hands it to you. “Me and my gremlins here..” pointing over to his employees who wave at you with a smile, “have it all under control. Now all you have to do is have fun and bring the bride in one piece. Remember no bride or groom means no wedding…” walking over to you, he sets his hands on your shoulder with a tight smile on his face. “Which also means, 234 hours spent on this wedding would all go down the drain and if that were to happen then I may just lose my marbles.” He giggles. At loss for words, you only nod at him and walk after the girls with your luggage in hand. “Have fun!” He shouts from upstairs.

Clapping her hands, Angie gets her driver to carry all the suitcases to the black SUV. “Are you girls ready for Vegas!” Letting out a series of cheers, she excitedly walks out the house waving for the rest to follow. And as the car is erupted in loud chit chat, you sit on the side, facing the window with a million worries in mind. Truly hoping, that nothing will go to shit in these last few days.

The hotel was truly luxurious. Arriving just on time, happy you planned accordingly. Going for the next set of agendas, you walk over to the reception. “Hi!” The woman greets, taken aback you chuckle lightly, “Okay um…hello!” You respond back just as enthusiastically. A grin on the clerks face, you give her the name under the rooms registration. “Oh! Ms. Lee, you’re booked for a suite on the twelfth floor yeah?” Nodding, Angie rests her acrylic nails on the marble counter and look around in awe. “Ooh pretty chandelier.” She can’t help but watch in amazement, “yep, pretty.” You say and watch how easily entertained your best friend is. A match made in Heaven with her and Mark whom seem to have freakishly similar personalities, “here’s your key cards-“ “Great thanks!” Grabbing them, you quickly rush the girls to follow after you. Excitedly they do and as all six of you fit into the small elevator, the door opens and proceeds to send all of you upward. And just as it did, in came the groom and groomsmen. “Damn this place is off the charts.” Haechan gasps.

A snorts comes from Mark as he agrees. “You really got it lucky in having a rich father in law.” Jaemin nudges his shoulder. “Hey I make money!” He tried to defend himself. “Yeah, an accountant is alright I guess. But now you’re going to be inheriting his company doesn’t that seem surreal?” Chenle shakes his shoulders. “You’re making it seem like money’s all I’m here for.” He snorts. “Oh of course not you would never.” Jeno pats his shoulder. “But if it was me…” sighing he nods his head. “I’d date any chick, hot or ugly.” “Okay, nice to know.” Mark nods and ignores the crowd of laughs from the guys a she goes to check.

“We have a room with two beds?” “Wait that’s it?” Jaemin cuts in. “I’m sorry, but the only other room registered in your name was just admitted.” Scoffing he looks over to the boys. “Guess the bridesmaids got it before us.” “See I told you, we should’ve gone to a different hotel.” Renjun tells him. “It’s alright,” Mark calms them down. “We can just use the master bedroom-“ “No way!” Jaemin cuts him off. “We’re adults this isn’t a sleep over, ma’am do you have any villas or something?”

“Actually…we do. We have one more.”

“Great we’ll take it.” About to take his card out, Jaemin stops him. “No way you’re paying Mark.” “But-“ “No man this is your bachelor party, we got it…Haechan.” The group looks over at him expectedly. With a huff, he takes out his credit card. “You know my wife’s going to kill me if she finds out.” “Look it’s not going to be swiped until the morning, relax we’ll..take out a loan or something.” Nodding, he gives the clerk his credit card reluctantly. And when given the key cards, Chenle claps his hands . “So! Shall we get this party started?”

Angie made it clear she didn’t want anything too rowdy. Both her and Mark agreed nothing to extreme which meant no strippers. For you, you couldn’t agree more. You never understand why the need for strippers, why the need for body parts to be shoved in your face? Doesn’t seem so faithful given you’re going to get married the next day. Even more when touching is involved. That tradition always seemed bizarre to you, and you were glad the happy couple agreed against it. And so, as originally planned you’d be taking her to a fine and divine hall. A table full of the best pastries, some light music playing and wine for the girls. Presents for the wife to be and some speeches the bridesmaids wrote for her. Something elegant and classy, nothing too extreme.

Getting ready, makeup placed here and there. Heels clanking the floor and dresses being out on along with blow dryers being turned on and vibrating throughout the suite, finally the eight of you are ready. Lip check to make sure no stains are present, last spray of perfume and grabbing purses, you make your way on out. Piling in the SUV, chatter is made until arriving to the hall. Soon after arriving, the bottle of wine and champagne is popped and as the glasses were being filled. You went for a toast. “A toast for our dearest friend, to have the best time of her life during her marriage and a toast to her final day as a non-wedded woman.” Cheering, the glasses are clanked and in did the drinks go into your systems. After a few hours went by, more of that alcohol was drank. And as more gossip was made, louder did the laughs get. Harder did the liquor kick, “I think!” One of the girls raise her hand to gain the attention of the others. “I think! We should go..to the casino!” Immediately the others agree and even though you never put it into your agenda you couldn’t see why not.

Angie, who trusts your leadership skills. Looks over at you with a plead in her eyes. Practically bouncing in her seat as she silently begs for you to agree. Slamming your hand on the table, you nod. “Mm fuck it! Why not!” You manage to slur out and soon your words were followed by a loud chorus of cheers.

An hour before midnight and you made it to the casino. Lights flashed brightly, slightly blinding you. The chauffeur opened the door for you and guided the driver where to park. And as he did that, you got out the SUV and immediately wrapped an arm around your best friend. Noticing a large grin plastered on her face. “Ready to have fun?” You ask her. “Yes!” “Okay then let’s blow our money down the drain!”

NEXT MORNING 8:04 AM

Sun cascading down the large windows, shining brightly on Haechan’s sleeping figure. Wincing when the sun begins to warm his face up does he wake up. Strands of feathers are floating in the air, the pillows on the floor and ripped to shreds. Cushions dismantled, bottles of liquor scattered all over the floor. The walls plastered with paint, the entire villa was flipped upside down. The once clean tidied floor was now in absolute ruins. The portraits once hung up were on the floor and ripped. The wine glasses on the floor a few still holding a bit of the red wine while others were slightly broken. The loud bang of a door closing is what truly wakes Hyuck and gets him off the cold floor. In nothing but boxers, he spits out a chunk of confetti that was in his mouth. Hair covered in silly string and a purple and green bead necklace around his neck.

He felt sore and tense around his shoulders and neck. Possibly from the bad position he slept in, his hair flared up, he turns to look at a mirror near him and notices the condition he’s in. Eyes squinting to limit the amount of light coming in, head buzzing loudly in his head as everything seems to be too fuzzy for him. Feeling the sudden need to whizz, he stands and takes cautious steps to the bathroom. Closing the door behind him and lifting the toilet seat, he lowers his boxers and begins to pee. He’s hung over, he knows that. He’s been through it before and one thing he knows is that he struggles to figure what he hears is exactly true or not. And when he hears the loud hiss, one you can be sure it’s from a snake. He swears there was one in the bathroom with him, but he turns his head to confirm it was all in his head.

He pauses when he sees it though. Huge and in the flesh, the large black, gray and black markings on its skin along with the large size gave it a dead give away on what it was. Watching as it seized up, Haechan widens his eyes and runs out the bathroom, slamming the door shut before it came after him. Frantic and not once looking at his surroundings, he comes hurdling down on Jaemin who is laid on the floor past out. Only, he wasn’t alone. “Ow!” Both bodies let out. Rudely awaken, they go to glare at the person responsible for tripping over them until they realize their current position. Eyes widen the two shove Haechan off them and spring up on their feet. Screaming and shouting, “What the hell were you doing next to me?!” You demand at the blue haired boy. “Me?! Why are you half naked?!” He points at you currently covering yourself with the single white sheet you had around you. “You are too!” Looking down and realizing he was in fact almost naked, only wearing boxers and shorts that he doesn’t remember packing. Widening his eyes, he’s mortified at the possibility that you…and him… “No way!” The two of you shoot in unison.

The sound of cans are rattled along with a loud groan. Glasses propped on their nose and a party hat on their head, Jeno hazily wakes up from his slumber, on the coffee table. “What the hell..?” He looks down at his bare chest. Tapping on the stains on his chest. Lip stains all over his chest, one he does not remember getting at all. Sitting up and wincing when he feels a kink in his neck, he adds pressure on it and notices his surroundings. “What’s…going on?” Looking over and seeing Chenle still passed out on the fucked up couch. Jeno kicks him awake. Whining, he swat at his leg until he’s kicked hard enough on his side. “Ow! What the hell!” Orange hair spiked up, he sits up. The others notice the darkness around his eyes. Smeared with mascara and lipstick this only adds further confusion, and more of the same question. What happened last night?

Tapping him repeatedly, Jaemin gives Haechan a look. “What man?” “T-There’s…” “Theres what?” “A python in the bathroom!” In disbelief, Jaemin blinks a few times before repeating his words. “A python?” Nodding, he glances over at you who only focuses on finding your clothes through the large mess made everywhere. “I think the alcohol really fucked with your head man..” walking over and turning the knob, he opens the door only to widen his eyes upon coming face to face with the snake. “Woah!” Closing it just in time, the loud bang is heard on the door by the sudden impact the snake made when it stroke at him. Laughing, he goes over to the other guys and points at the bathroom. “There really is a fucking python.” Still half asleep and completely hunger over, Jeno rubs his eyes while Chenle rubs his face. “What the fuck happened last night man?” Jeno asks seriously. “Yeah look at this place, for sure they’re going to make us pay extra for this.” Chenle adds. Eyes widening, Haechan rushes over to them.

“Oh no! I’m so screwed, god I’m definitely getting an ear full from my girl!” He hits his forehead. “Where are the others?” Looking around and noticing three were missing from the group, “Maybe they woke up earlier? Went to breakfast?” Chenle says but it seems no one was too sure. “Well you know what!” You interrupt them. “This was just…lovely. So if you don’t mind.” Going to grab your heels you continue to search for one last piece of clothing but can’t seem to find. “Where the hell is my…you know what? I don’t care, good luck. Grab Mark and get his ass straight back home and I’ll be doing the same with the bride.” You salute them and make your way over to the door. And as you do, Jaemin feels his pocket stuffed with something. Brows furrowed, he buries his hand in there and freezes when he feels the material. Taking it out slowly and sees the red thin article of clothing he had kept in his pocket.

“Um y/n…I think I found what you were looking for.” Rolling your eyes, you’re ready to tell him off but pause in horror at the sight. The other guys are shocked to see what he had in his hand, and why it managed to be in his pocket. “Why do you have my thong?!”

Walking out of the villa together, frazzled and utterly flustered, you had ripped your thong out of the insufferable man’s grip. Currently pressing the button on the elevator there’s a silence amongst the group that’s becoming unbearable. And when the elevator opens, you’re all shocked to see a woman currently getting downed on by a dude. “Ok,” you nod and wait for them to fix themselves up and stand side by side. Taking a step in, the air is much thicker this time. So much awkwardness you simply wish to die that very instant. “…so the two of you Huh?” Haechan speaks in regard to you and Jaemin. “Shut up.” You two reply sternly almost instantly, hearing a slap. Haechan receives it by Jeno and a smirk on Chenle’s face. By the time you get off, you make your way over to the cafeteria, it’s packed which means you have to find a seat outside. Busying himself with filling up his tray, both Haechan and Chenle are inside while the rest sit under the small umbrella that doesn’t do a good job protecting you from the blazing hot sun.

“Have you called Jisung and Renjun yet?” Jeno asks Jaemin. “I’m going to now.” “Yeah I should call Angie, tell her what’s going on.” Taking your phone out, you notice the large quantity of text messages from the girls. ‘Hello? Y/n? Are you okay? Where are you?’ Angie immediately answers, ‘I’m okay Angie, just having a rough morning…hey do you remember what happened last night?’ Hearing a chuckle on the other end, ‘Of course how could I not? We all got wasted last night. We went to the casino but I actually left the group earlier because I ran into Mark and the boys.’

‘Hey Jisung, where are you man?’ You hear Jaemin say on his phone call. ‘Eventually me and Mark kinda went somewhere private if you know what I mean,’ rolling your eyes, you smile sheepishly and tell her yes. ‘But we then parted and went back to our own parties. I didn’t see you there and I was told you had met with Jaemin so I didn’t intervene and when it got late went back to our suite. I assumed you’d come back but I didn’t see you here. We have to get going, where are you?’

‘What do you mean you’re on a flight home?!’ You hear Jaemin exclaim. ‘Is Mark at least with you?’ About to respond to her, Jaemin pulls the phone away from him and whisper hushedly at the two of you. “Mark isn’t with them.”

‘Y/n?’ You hear Angie say on the other line. ‘Yeah I’m here, look I won’t be able to make it back with you but I’ll get a ride back from the guys yeah?’ Hearing a teasingly tone to her voice, ‘Ooh of course. Don’t worry you have fun with Jaemin.’ ‘No, that’s not why-‘ ‘Have fun!’ And then the line cuts. Setting the phone down, you watch as Jaemin runs a frustrated hand through his hair and continues to talk with them. ‘I’ll have to call you back alright? Ok bye-‘. hearing Jisung saying wait just before getting cut off, Jaemin sets his phone down. “Relax man.” Jeno pats his back, “Maybe Mark is out somewhere, shopping maybe.” Backing away from his hands, Jaemin gives him a look. “Shopping? Really?” Huffing, Jeno rolls his eyes and takes out his phone. “Fine! I’ll call him and prove to you he’s fine!” A loud clank is heard on the table, two big plates of food was set in front of you. Large grins plastered on the returning boys who take a seat. “So…any news?” Haechan asks taking a sip from his slurpee.

Getting them up to date, a phone begins to ring. Looking at each other, everyone’s head turns slowly at Haechan who happily eats his Mac and cheese. Stopping mid spoon full, he raised a brow. “What?” “What’s in your pocket?” Chenle speaks, staring at the phone that buzzes. Looking down, he takes the device out and sees the caller ID, “Jeno?” Turning over, he sees the look his friend gives him. “Oh! I have his phone you guys!” He flashes it. “Why?” Pausing, he tries to recall the reason for it but shakes his head, “Who knows.” And goes back to eating. Groaning, the group seems dejected before Jaemin grabs a napkin and opens your purse. “Hey!” “Relax I’m getting a pen, what’s up with the crackers in your bag?” He raises a brow at you. “What? There were very good, don’t know where that hall bought them from but for the price they made us pay for ‘em hell yeah I was going to take some with me.” Shaking his head, he tries to ignore what he had just heard and goes to write on the napkin.

“Okay what does everyone remember from last night?” There’s a moment of silence before Haechan speaks up. “Oh! We went to the roof where we took a few shots of Jager.” Nodding. He writes it down. “Jager?” You scrunch your nose in disgust. “That’s…” “what not up to your taste? Miss prissy princess here only ever drinks the finest wine and most expensive champagne?” Scoffing you flip the blue haired boy off. “Okay what else.” “The casino.” Jeno speaks up. “Right!” You pitch in, “Angie said we all ran into each other there. That her and Mark had left together and then came back.” “Do you know what time?” “No, but she said by the time she returned to the group I was gone and had gone off…with you.” Tensing, Jaemin stops writing and pauses. The guys all do too and glance between the two of you. No one still not sure if the two of you really did sleep with each other but little by little, seems to be getting harder to deny that wonder.

Clearing his throat, “Okay…anything else?” Looking at each other and seeing no one was speaking up, Chenle does. “Does anyone actually remember anything from last night?” Everyone groans and shakes their heads. Covering your face with your hands, you feel your hand get tugged harshly by none other than the guy you can’t stand. “What the hell!” “What’s this?” Looking over at what he was staring at, you gasp at the sight. Retracting your hand, you shake your head and say no like a mantra. Horrified, you look over to the boys and raise your hand. “I’m…married.”

“What?!” Erupting in confusion, they start to ask questions they know you had no answer to. And while they continue to wonder what exactly went down, you feel an itch in between your boobs. Digging in your bra and feeling the touch of a paper. Taking it out and seeing it was beige and folded, they all quiet down upon seeing it. “What is it?” Mouthing agape, you look over at Jaemin who feels his heart pick up in speed. Leg began to bounce excessively and palms starting to sweat. Seeing you flip the paper around, his worst fear became true. “We’re married.”

The door to the bathroom is slammed open, pushing a girl in your way to the side ignoring the loud hey she throws out and into the nearest stall you go in. Toilet filling up with your vomit, you grip onto the edge of the toilet as more of the liquor starts to hurl out. Throat tightening and hating the acidic taste, you start to wonder if alcohol was all you had last night. The time seemed to have stopped and every time you thought you were done, you went back to puking again. By the time you were finished, you sat against the wall and closed your eyes. Too nauseous, too weak to even breathe. The room was spinning which only had you wanting to vomit again. Your stomach growled, it twisted and turned. It hurt and as you gripped an arm around your midriff to add pressure it wasn’t helping. You felt as if you were going to die. Feeling as if the world was collapsing on you and after the revelation of your marriage with the very man you can’t stand, the metaphor may not be too far off.

All four guys stand outside the woman’s bathroom. Leaning against the white wall as they wait for you to get out and get a move on. First stop to the chapel where apparently, you and Jaemin had closed the hatchet. When you did, hands slightly wet after smearing your mouth, face, hair everywhere that felt hot and yucky. “You look like shit.” Jeno tells you. Glaring at him, you take another weak step out and take a deep breath. Too out of breath to even utter a word you merely point to the exit and start moving. “How will we even get there? Do we even have Mark’s Mercedes? What if he left with it?” “Haechan why would he leave and not come back?” “Well do you have any other explanation Jaemin? If he’s not here it’s because he went somewhere and no way in hell did he leave without his Mercedes, dude fucking loves that car.”

“Here’s your vehicle sir.” The chauffeur says as he gets out of the vehicle and hands Jaemin the keys. A moment of silence as everyone sends each other looks. “Thanks!” Jaemin says and walks off into the direction of the cop car. “Uh Jaemin-“ “Don’t question it, get in.” Panicked, you whisper shout at him. “Are you crazy?! This is highly illegal!” Rolling his eyes, he shoots you a bored look. “God can you stop being so stuck up for one second? If we want to find Mark then we better get in and go to that chapel. After that we can just drop it off,” opening the car door he gets in followed by the other guys. Scoffing you look around you in disbelief. “No one else sees the fuckery?” “Y/n get in or I’m leaving you!” Jaemin shouts. Stomping your foot, you open the door forcibly and get in, in the back seat. “God damn it!”

Traffic was a pain. The loud chorus of honking continuously went off, a jam a few meters ahead causing the entire city to stop. The more the drivers honked the worst your head ache became. “Fucking hell can’t you find any other way to get through?” “Does it look like there is?!” Jaemin snaps back. Cursing underneath his breath, his eyes look over to the side of the road. And then it clicked. “Hang on.” The loud sirens go off, and soon Jaemin speeds onto the sidewalk. Turning on the mic as he speeds by even with pedestrians on it. “Police this is an emergency!” “Jaemin what are you doing?!” You ask him as you try to keep your head down, not wanting any one to catch sight of you. “You asked for another way princess, or should I say wife.” Gaining a laugh from Jeno who sits in the front, he grabs the microphone from Jaemin and begins to shout at everyone to get out of the way. “Move it people!” Merely missing them, Jaemin drifts off the sidewalk and takes a sharp turn. Flying into Haechan’s side who flies into Chenle’s side. With loud shouts, the three of you hold onto whatever you can to keep balance. And once he made the sharp turn, the three of you are forced back to your original spots. “Fuck Jaemin!” “Yeah that’s probably what you told me last night.” Grabbing Mark’s phone that sat on Haechan’s lap you throw it directly at Jaemin’s head. Only it never hit him but the clear glass that blocked you from reaching him. Bouncing right off the stainless glass and right into Haechan’s face. “Ow!”

“Oh I’m so sorry Hyuck!” Cradling his nose, he whines and peers his head. “I think I’m bleeding.” Removing his hand, you and Chenle gasp upon seeing the amount of blood falling from his nose. “Oh great going y/n.” Jaemin says watching through the rear view mirror. “Shut up!” Opening the glove compartment, Jeno sees a bunch of napkins from Dunkin Donuts. “Wow cops really do love living up to their stereotypes…here!” Sliding the window open he tosses the napkins inside. Quickly grabbing them, you push them up to his nose in which he winces. “Dip your head back.” “What? Are you nuts? Don’t listen to Chenle you need to keep your head down.” “No. He needs it back.” “Forward.” “Back.” “Forward.” “Everybody quiet!” Jaemin shouts and takes one last sharp turn before parking in a dirt covered parking lot. Hitting the brake harshly, he turns off the ignition. Turning around he stares at his friend.

“Haechan you alright man.” Sending him a thumbs up, he smiles and nods. “Alright now lets go. We’re here.” Getting out of the car, there before you lied the chapel. A dirty brown along with a tall sign with pink borders. “Halle’s Chapel.” You read it off. “You sure this is even legit?” “Only one way to find out.” Opening the door, in the five of you go. The bell is heard the second the door was opened and soon followed by a booming voice. “Aw you’re back! Mi amores!” A man shouts as he walks over to you. Arms out as he pulls you and Jaemin in a tight hug. “You crazy fucks really are back!” He laughs. “So how’s the happy couple?” “Happy?” The both of you say in sync before giving each other a dirty look. “Oooh trouble in paradise already?” Sighing, Jaemin rolls his eyes and shows him the certificate. “Is this true?” “Oh why of course it is! Came last night don’t you remember?” “No we don’t, none of us do.” Snickering he scoffs, not believing it at first.

“My oh my, well to prove it. The photo book is finished!…Mia! Photo book from last nights couple!” Following him over to the reception, out from the back comes a short straight haired woman, dropping the large book on the counter, the man whom you come to find out goes by the name Miguel ushers you to open it. Gasping the second you do, “oh brother.” You try to keep yourself from puking, Jaemin as equally mortified scans through every picture. “Wow, we really were hammered.” Jeno huffs. A few of them were all of you taking group pictures this including Renjun, Jisung and Mark. From flipping the camera, to taking shots for it. A few were of you and Jaemin making out the boys cheering you two on in the back. And the last and final one, was of Jaemin motor boating you. “Your face was in my chest!” You smack him with the heavy book. “Your chest was on my face!”

“Oh! Almost forgot this one. It’s my favorite.” Miguel gives you the picture and in it was Jaemin sticking the certificate in your boobs while you hooked his ring on his chain. Looking over to his neck, Jaemin taps his chest and realizes there was a dent underneath his shirt. Taking out the chain, there before him confirmed yet again he was married to you. Hanging on his very expensive most favorite silver chain was none other than his wedding ring. “For fucks sake.” “Excuse me, Miguel.” Chenle raises his hand. “Do you remember our friend Mark?” “Oh Mark? The boy with the crazy high pitched laugh?” “Yes! Yes him! Do you know if he might’ve left without us last night?” “Oh yeah! All of you left together. After taking the pictures Mark fell really hard and cut open his arm. You left to go to the hospital.” “Ok thank you!” As the boys went to leave, you and Jaemin stayed behind. “Any way to get us annulled?” “Please! I can do it in my sleep. But I don’t have the paper work so you can always get it done some other time.” Looking at each other, “Do it when we get back?” He nods.

“Has the bleeding stopped?” You ask Haechan, taking his hand off his nose and wincing when it looks slightly crooked. Going to touch it, he lets out a loud moan. “It hurts!” “Jesus I think I might’ve broken it.” By the time you arrive to the hospital Chenle goes to get Haechan’s nose checked while Jaemin contacts the clerk for any name under Mark Lee that might’ve checked in last night. “Who’s the doctor that operated on him?”

Throwing the door open, you rush into the first stall and begin to puke again. Not sure what the reason was this time but it felt worst than the first time. Especially the smell of the bathroom wasn’t the best it only made it worse. You didn’t understand why maybe you got food poisoning or maybe it was the liquor. Could be the best idea to get your stomach pumped and so with that, you asked for one. Luckily there weren’t many patients and as quickly you asked for it, is as quickly you got it. When getting your pressure checked, and a few other basic routines a nurse came back with a clear cup. “Oh no, I’m sorry but I just wanted my stomach pumped,” “oh no need. Just need you to pee in this cup and we’ll give you some medication to alleviate the pain.” “Oh okay..”

“Come on there had to be more to it doctor, Is there anything you can tell us that’ll help us find him?” Jaemin asks the doctor who’s currently working on an elderly man. “I don’t know what else to say. He came in with a large gash on his arm. Had to give him eight stitches, all of you were high off the charts.” “We weren’t high.” Jeno pitched in. When receiving a look from the doctor he adds on. “Drunk yes, high can’t be.” “Well, Mark seemed very worried about receiving the side effects of the drugs during the wedding that you all took last night and even asked for a test and some medication to make it go away.” The doctor snorts and asks the man to stand up and bend over. Sighing, Jaemin goes to speak again but widens his eyes when he sees the old man’s bare ass. Him and Jeno quickly turn around to face the wall. “I have the results you know? Took all your friends blood after you guys insisted on getting tested as well for whatever reason. All shows you guys took Rohypnol and a bunch of other drugs.” “The hell is that?” “Shit fucks you up alright… okay all done.” Taking off the gloves and throwing it to the trash, the boys turn around again. “Makes you lose your memory, could be why you can’t remember where you misplaced your friend.” Huffing, they follow the doc out of the patients room. “Did we say where we’d go next or something?”

Pausing, he waves his finger. “Actually now that I think of it yeah, you i mean not you..” he says at Jaemin then turns over to Jeno. “You said you were all going to some club a few blocks from here. You,” he turns his focus back on Jaemin. “Were too busy having sex with your wife in one of the empty rooms.” Raising his brows, he freezes for a second. “Pardon me?” “You idiots didn’t even realize there was a camera in there.” Jaw slacking, he turns over to Jeno who only smirks and pats his back. “Nice man-“ at loss for words, he looks back at the doctor hoping he’s only joking but the serious look on his face says it all. “I didn’t see it, but from the nurses who did…Geez you have some sort of pregnancy kink man.” “W-What?” “You kept going at it like a bunch of bunnies, saying you wouldn’t stopped until she got pregnant.”

“Okay I don’t want to hear it anymore!” Covering his ears, he sees you walk over. “Oh great..” “Guys…I have some news.” “And we do too.” Jeno speaks up, “How about we get the doc here to repeat himself again-“ Going to tell Jeno to shut up, you cut Jaemin off before he can do so. “I’m pregnant.” You say seriously then show them the blood work you’d taken. The three are silent, none knowing how to react and as subtly does Jeno mutter, “oh shit.”

In the security camera room, alone and allowed inside. You and Jaemin look over last night where he walks you discreetly to the room right next to Marks where he was getting checked. A finger going up his mouth as he giggles at you when you do so to him. Then the next clip appears of you two inside. Groaning and wincing when more and more clothes are being discarded and eventually having sex. “Okay I don’t think we need to see any more of this. I don’t know why we wanted to see it in the first place-“. pressing a button to exit out of it, the sound goes on and blares throughout the room. ‘Ah Jaemin!’ You moan from the security footage. ‘Fuck y/n’ Jaemin grunts out. Frantically pressing more buttons, Jaemin tries to help you out but only manage to increase the volume. ‘Feel so good! So big!’ Screaming, you begin to bang on the buttons hoping for any of them to shut it off. ‘God you’re fucking tight, keep doing that and i’m going to fuck a baby in you.’ Pausing, you turn to glare at the man besides you. “Don’t look at me like that you said I was big! You should know that’s an ego boost for guys” Leaving one last slam, he manages to finally shut it off. “Jesus fucking Christ.” He runs a hand through his hair and glances over to you and lowers it to your stomach. Intrusive thoughts winning, he extends his arm out to rest on your stomach but is quickly slapped away. “Pervert.” You scoff and walk out the room.

The car ride was silent, no one knowing how to start the awaiting topic. A white band over Haechan’s nose , still unaware of the situation. Currently making your way to the club the doc mentioned, does Jeno’s phone begin to ring. “It’s Renjun.” Disappointed, they wait for him to answer. ‘Where the hell are you guys?!’ He immediately asks once Jeno answers. ‘We can’t find Mark so we’re looking for him…don’t worry we got it all under control you just keep cool and cover for us…I don’t know make something up just don’t tell Angie the truth.’ Ending the call, the silence returns. “Okay…why the silence? What happened? Is it Mark?” Haechan asks. When none responds he sighs and begins to poke at you. “What’s happened?” Not glancing over at him and eyes staring straight ahead he turns to look at Chenle. “What happened?” Just when he’s about to let him in on the latest news, Jaemin speaks up. More serious than he’s ever been. “Utter a word and I’ll break your neck Zhong.” Tension made it unbearable in the car, so much you could no longer handle it.

“I’m pregnant with Jaemin’s kid.”

“WHAT?!”

Arriving to the club, Haechan is filled with many, many questions. Mostly as to when and how the two of you had sex. When he scrunches his nose in disgust, he winced slightly by the pain. “Please tell me you didn’t do it in front of us.” Rolling his eyes, Jaemin whisper hushedly at you. “Shouldn’t have told him shit.” “He was bound to find out.” You tell him and enter the club, shocked there were no bouncers outside. Dark, lights flashing and the smell of liquor hits your nostrils. A fruity scent that you usually smell it from perfume, walking further inside it made sense why you picked it up. “Jeno you took us to a strip club.” Monotonously your tone was. “It’s you guys again!” A voice shouts from behind the bar, a white rag draped over his shoulder. “Last night wasn’t enough huh?” “Who exactly are you?” Jaemin asks the stranger. “Not surprised, chugged a shit ton of Alfredo’s roofies.” “R-Roofies?” Turning into the direction he was pointing at, you all notice some knocked out men slouching on the counter with white powder over their noses. “Surprised you all survived that shit. He gave you guys all sorts of shit to snort and managed to accidentally give you guys some roofies.” He laughs and gets back to drying the glasses. “Yeah um…we can’t remember any of that so can you tell us what went down.” Jeno takes a seat in front of him. “Sure can. You all came in with some other guys as well.” “Was Mark with us? The blonde one?” “Sure was, even got on one of the stages and started dancing on the poles. You seemed to have liked that a lot.” He says pointing at you. Ignoring the frown Jaemin sends you, you speak up. “What else?” Chuckling he sets the glass down. “Then you switched spots with him.” Surprised, you begin to stutter. He laughs and continues, “while the others were too busy getting lap dances this man right here,” finger pointing straight at Jaemin. “Took off his jacket to cover you up. Drugs really kicked in and had you feeling brave if you know what I mean, clothes tossed left and right even flashed everyone and when guys started inching closer towards you, blue haired boy lost it and hurled you off the stage.”

Both you and his faces were bright pink, just hearing it was humiliating. You can hear the other snicker but you’re far too embarrassed to even hit them. “While the two of you were busy having sex in the bathroom-“ “AGAIN.” Heads turning to glare at Haechan he chuckles nervously and lowers his head. “Orange haired over here stole the keys of some cops.” He points at Chenle who only smiled sheepishly. “Took off with it with all of you inside, got the Mercedes towed.” “Do you know where it’s at?” “Yeah, a few miles from here. Terry’s Tow Yard.” Going to write down the directions, Jeno and Jaemin flinch back when they feel a pair of hands run over their biceps. “Hello cuties. Back for more?” Furrowing your brows, you stare at the curly black haired girl who’s currently biting her lip at them. “Sad we couldn’t have that threesome you promised pretty boy.” She lifts Jeno’s chin. “Uh…what?” “You were supposed to give me a wild ride before you ran off with your buddies.” She pouts at him. She turns to look at Jaemin, “Too bad I was too late, seemed like you were quite busy with someone else.” She sets her eyes on you, eyeing you before giving you a plastic smile. “If I hadn’t known any better, I would’ve thought you were the newbie.” She winks. Just as you’re about to down the shot the barista gives you, it’s quickly taken out of your grip. “Absolutely not preggos, have you forgotten already.” Jaemin says sternly. Groaning you roll your eyes and turn to him, “How could I not? It’s your child I’m carrying after all,” Shocked by the news, the woman widens her eyes never in a million years expecting that. Suddenly, the door is slammed open and the music is paused. “Police!” Shouts and screams are heard, “It’s a raid go!” The men who had transferred in the drugs scatter while policeman’s run after them. “Oh shit, we stole their car they’ll definitely bust us let’s get out of here!” Getting off your seats you run off backstage. To the nearest exit that the stripper helps lead you out, not before grabbing onto Jeno’s arm and tugging it back. “I hope to see you soon pretty boy.” She smirks and goes in for a kiss but he’s quick to reject. “Sorry don’t feel quite the same.” He manages to get out of her grip and run off with the others. Not noticing the pout on her face before going back inside where she’d be forced to have her hands up.

After being certain you were far from the cops, you stop to catch your breath. Hunched over as your sides burned, you feel Jaemin at your side. “You alright?” Nodding, you wave him off and stand up straight. “Im…fine.” You take a deep breath and continue on with the rest. Eventually you make it to Terry’s Tow Yard, wired fenced as there were piles of cars there. By then it was night and closed so you had no other choice but to climb. After Jaemin insisted they’d help you, you huff and let them carry you up high enough for you to throw your leg to the other side of the fence and climb down. One by one they follow until you all were standing inside the yard. “Alright now we just got to find it.” Separating to cover more ground, you don’t notice you weren’t alone until he snaps a branch. “Oh shit! Jesus Jaemin!” You scold him, a hard smack to his chest in which he winced and let out a low ow. “Sorry…” he mumbles before there’s a slight silence. You too focused on finding the gray Benz but not him. Instead he focuses his attention on you. “So…” “so?” “Are we going to talk about it or…?” “About what? The pregnancy?” “No…Nope actually I wanted to talk about the weather. Seems pretty chilly I wonder if it was a bad idea that I only brought a white blouse that’s covered in dirt and has slight holes in it.” Giggling you shake your head and shove him lightly in which he sends you a soft smile of his own.

“What are you thinking? About the whole ordeal?” Taking a deep breath you sigh and shake your head, “Not a single fucking clue. I don’t know what to think or how to feel. Definitely not how I planned to get pregnant. Surely not with you,” feigning offense he holds a hand to his chest. “Ouch.” He hears you chuckle and so he does to. “Guess we’ll have to work something out when we get back.” Making a face and cocking your head back you speak up, “Who says I’m keeping it?” Pausing, he thinks. “Oh! Well, then that’s okay too. I mean I’m not against it— I support it you know women’s rights to decide y’know all that feminist crap.” Sending him a look you speak, “Crap?” “Right sorry guess I shouldn’t have used that word, what im trying to say is whatever the decision..I’ll support it. And if you want to keep the child, I’ll be there.” Turning to face him you raise a brow at him. “You’ll be present?” “Yes,” “Like in the child’s life?” “Yes.” “Like not be a deadbeat-“ “What’s so hard to comprehend?” He looks at you with furrowed brows, shrugging you look forward again. “Just find it hard to picture you being a father.” “Yeah well I find it hard picturing myself raising a child with you nonetheless making one.” Sighing, he turns his body to face you. “Look just because I don’t commit doesn’t mean I can’t. Yeah I drink, sleep, fuck that’s how I live my life but that doesn’t mean I don’t know when to be responsible. I took part of this baby making fiasco and if you want this child then I’m there. I’ll be the father that child deserves to have and I can promise you I’ll be the best father they’ll ever need.” Failing to cover the on growing smile you, you nudge his elbow. “Even if it means to lessen the sex and alcohol?” Snorting, he rolls his eyes and smiles at you. “Even if it kills me.”

“Hey guys! Found it!” You hear Chenle’s distant voice. Tracking it, you all rejoin together in front of the perfectly untouched Mercedes. “What about the keys?” Shrieking when the sound of broken glass is heard, you look over and see Jeno climb in and after a few seconds climb out. “Got ‘em.” Turning the car, Haechan laughs and gets in. “Oh hallelujah!” As he tries to start up the ignition does he realize the car is out of gas. “Shit!” He hits the wheel. Sighing, he looks over at you guys, “any one know how to siphon gas out of a car?” While they busied themselves in doing just that, Haechan kept you company sat on top of the trunk. Looking up at the sky with hardly any stars in sight. “Can you believe our luck?” He laughs, “I don’t think I’ve ever had this much chaos go on in my life…like ever.” “Same, but at least it’ll make a sick story to tell our grandchildren.” “That, you got a point.” Feeling itchy, Hyuck goes to scratch at his arm when his sleeve rises up and there he notices the black ink. “What’s that?” You ask, reading the words the two of you say in unison. “Malcolm.” “Who’s that?” Worried he tries to wipe it off but to no avail. “Hyuck it’s permanent ink.” “I know what a tattoo is! Why do I have it?!” Groaning he falls back on the trunk and huffs. “God I’m so screwed.” “Oh come on, you make it seem like your wife beats you or something.” “No but she’s very scary when mad. What do I tell her when she sees this? Sorry honey I’m gay now?” Making a look, Haechan glares at you. “I’m not gay.” “Wouldn’t be a bad thing if you were.” “oh for fucks sakes.” Getting off the trunk he dusts himself, “Well I’m gonna go help the guys while you-“

Suddenly cut off by the loud banging in the inside of the trunk, you let out a shriek. Quick to help you get off, Haechan sets you down and pulls you away from the car. “Uh guys!” All quickly rushing over to where they can clearly hear the loud banging. “Do you think?” Sending each other a look until you all get to the same conclusion. “Mark!” Fumbling with the keys, Jeno gets it open but he’s kicked to the ground the second the trunk is unlocked. Shouting is heard and out comes a naked man who starts attacking them. “Wait! Wait!” Punched in the stomach, Chenle goes down. Body wrapping around Haechan who’s trying desperately to get him off. Slammed harshly on the ground when he’s knocked out of breath. Jaemin managed to dodge the first punch before the man wraps his legs around him and puts him in a head locked. “Ah! Okay his balls are way too close to my face!” Knocking him down on the ground, he turns over to you where you unintentionally go to cover your stomach. In an instant the naked man understood and doesn’t attack, “who are you?” Haechan groans on the ground. “Crazy assholes locked me in there!” He says before running off. Once he was good distance away you rush over to help them up. “Geez he’s got moves.” You say, inspecting Jaemin’s face that held light scratches. Not noticing how his eyes softened. Letting go, you move over to help the maknae of the group up. “Who the fuck was that?” “No idea.”

Driving your way back to the hotel, you separate from them and head into the direction for ice. Filling the bucket and getting some plastic bags for the guys. And while you waited for it to fill up, you look out the window in the mean time. “Where are you Mark?” You ask softly under your breath. Walking out the room and passing by the broken elevator. A few technicians there as they put up a sign. And floors below the fifth including the basement would need to be taken by the stairs. When making your way back up to the guys room, you’re shocked by the shouts. “What’s going on!” You shout above their loud voices. Currently deciding who would be feeding the giant snake. Breathing heavily, Jeno points at the door with the broomstick in his hand. “Guess one of us got to drug the snake.” “Why?” “Because that naked man that attacked us, is apparently a mafia boss. In which we played poker with us in the basement of this hotel, stole the money we originally lost and some more from what he betted on the table which came to be around…oh yeah thirty grand.” Chenle explains. “And that snake in there who’s name is Malcolm, was his where we had trespassed into his home and stole it. And now he wants us to return it to him and give him back the thirty grand which we need to accumulate by tomorrow morning.” Dropping the bucket of ice you simply shrug. “O-Ok.”

As the guys struggled to feed the snake, Jaemin sat below your feet, in front of you where you sat on the ripped up couch. Letting you press the bag of ice on his face. Getting a few hard beating from the men alongside the mafia boss. The purple color beginning to form on his face, he slightly winced when the coldness hits his face. “How will we ever explain this to Angie.” You shake your head worriedly. “Accidents happen right?” He mumbles to you. “Yeah guess so, but still. Louis will freak when he sees all the photos of the groomsmen will be covered in bruises.” Softly grasping your hand, he lowers the ice pack. “At least we know where Mark is.” Your eyes widen and lean forward not noticing how close the proximity got but he did. “You do?” Nodding he curls his lips. “Yeah, the boss has him which is why if we don’t give him the money…” your face falls at the realization. “Then we better give him that money.” “How?” “How else? We’re in Vegas Jaemin.” “But there’s a much bigger chance we’ll lose more money than win it.” Scoffing you wave your hand at him. “Baby that thong you had stored in your pocket came with a matching bra and heels all very expensive with the finest material used, and with what money? Gambling money I earned all by myself.” You flipped your hair and smirked at him. Curling a finger underneath his chin, his breath hitched when you inch closer. His hands instinctively coming to grip on your thighs, “Trust me when I tell you, i can gain back all that money.” Gulping, he nods. “Okay.”

A loud slam is heard, pulling away and seeing Chenle looking frightened and heavy breathing he nods. “Done…now we wait.” As the time ticked by, you took this chance to relax. Taking off your shoes where you moaned in relief. Massaging your calves to relieve the tension, pausing when you feel a hand grip them softly. Pulling them over to his lap, Jaemin silently begins to massage them. Not saying anything, you let him and relish in on the relaxation. After fifteen minutes Jeno stands. “Okay I think it’s knocked out by now.” Grabbing the bed sheet left on the ground you had used to cover your self, they take cautious steps in and when they see it was in fact unconscious. They cover it and pick it up. Helping you put your shoes back on, Jaemin helps you stand. “Thanks.” You send him an appreciative smile, about ready to help them but he stops you. A look of worry before he recollects himself clearing his throat. “Maybe you should stay in front of us. Just in case the snake wakes up.” Nodding, you help them with the door. “Fuck it’s heavy as hell.” Chenle groans. Even with the four of them the snake was far too big and heavy but they pulled through. Sneaking out from the back making sure no one saw them, you open the trunk and in do they shove the snake. When Haechan knocks it’s head, the others scold at him. “Gosh Hyuck do you want it to wake up and eat us like rodents?” “Sorry…” Piling inside the car and making your way over to the casino you quickly run to the game your most good at. Black Jack.

The more you played the more the crowd built. You were fantastic, the boys grinned from ear to ear as they never stopped hyping you up. But you couldn’t relish in the glory, you were determined to win back the thirty grand. But you realize it’d take too long so you told them that when the time came, to steal the chips from the other players on your cue. When you manage to win another stack you fail to hear Jaemin tell you he’s proud of you. Momentarily freezing, panicked at the possibility that you might’ve heard him but when he thought he was in the clear. He looks over and sees the guys smirking at him. Haechan wiggling his brows as Chenle and Jeno made kissy faces at him. Oblivious in seeing him show them the finger. A stranger walks by, slightly knocking into your chair you purposefully extended out and down you went. Gasps could be heard as you’re immediately crowded and asked about you’re well being. “She’s pregnant!” Jaemin shouts as he cups your face. “Baby you okay? You should probably get checked by a doctor.” “I’m so sorry ma’am.” The stranger who knocked into your chair says frantically. Wincing you nod and wave him off, “Im alright just…ah!” Cradling your head, Jaemin has you lean on him for support. “We’ll just take our winnings and get going.”

The boys were no where to be seen and by the time the two of you left, that’s when the rest realize their lack of chips. Running out to the car with the bag full of cash you high five each other. “You were great y/n wow who would’ve thought you had it in you!” “Yeah never did I think rule follower y/n would do such a thing.” “What? What are you talking about I don’t always follow the rules?” Scoffing, Haechan continues. “Please, you were practically the teachers pet in all of grade school.” Rolling your eyes you shake your head. “That’s because I was too good at hiding my bad behavior. Difference between me and you four, you make it obvious while I’m discreet.” “Oh yeah?” Jaemin speaks up this time, “Name one thing you did bad in grade school?” Thinking about it for a minute he’s about to snicker and say I told you so until you talk. “Back in the eighth grade when Seohyun had dumped that carton of chocolate milk all over you, I grabbed a pair of scissors during science glass and cut a chunk of his hair.” The car erupts in laughter as they shake their heads, “no way!” “Yep! Cried to the teacher and pointed fingers at me but I quickly tossed the scissors on his friends desk who also gave Jaemin a hard time and pretended like I was too busy doing my homework to realize what was going on around me. Teacher never suspected it and both got detention for ‘lying’ .” Laughing at the story, you go on to say other times in which you did bad things but while you did so you don’t notice Jaemin constantly glancing at you through the rear view mirror. He couldn’t believe you did that for him, maybe he judged you too hard. Back in school he assumed you couldn’t stand him, you never made the effort to talk to him nonetheless befriend him. Then again he was pretty nerdy and got bullied while you were the popular kid along with Angie. Around that time did Mark start gaining a crush on her, but he wasn’t the only one who had a crush on a popular kid. “I’m hungry not gonna lie.” You say after it quiets down. “I could eat.” Jeno adds and then the rest agree.

In the nearest McDonald’s, an Oreo McFlurry and French fries. Jaemin passes you one of his chicken sandwiches despite you saying you weren’t that hungry. And before you can object, Jaemin gives you look daring you to decline his sandwich. So you accept it happily. “I..am..beat.” In between yawns does Haechan say. “Better start heading back to the hotel.” For the most part, everyone passed out almost instantly. Except for you, couldn’t wink an eye despite your muscles begging for rest. And when you hear sudden movement and make out Jaemin’s figure, you accept his hand. Walking the two of you up to the roof. A blanket around you, he noticed you’re still shivering so he pulls you in his chest. Arms coming to wrap around you and even though his jacket did little to keep him warm, it definitely helped you gain some heat. “Thanks for what you did.” “Did what?” “Cutting Seohyun’s hair in the eighth grade. Pretty bad ass.” Snickering you roll your eyes. “It was nothing really, I had something worst in mind but it’s all I could’ve thought of in the moment.”

“Who else did you stick up for?” “Mm other than Angie, you.” “I find that hard to believe.” “I’m not lying. It’s also wasn’t my first time doing that. When Jae purposefully hit you in the face during dodgeball, I aimed for his feet which caused him to slip and split his chin open.” Laughing you feel his chest rumble. “No way that was you?” Giggling you nod. “I couldn’t stop laughing when I heard that day.” When it gets quiet again, he lowers his voice. “Thank you for sticking up for me. I judged you when I shouldn’t have, I’m sorry.” “Nah, I’m not innocent. I judged you too.” “Really about what?” “Mostly during high school when you hit puberty and started dating around. Thought the old nice nerdy you was gone and replaced by some fuck boy I didn’t know .” “You know I didn’t started screwing around until college.” “Bullshit!-“ “Swear on my life!” “But you got popular in high school! So many girls wanted you, there’s no way you didn’t go whoring around.” “No, I didn’t,” “and why’s that?” He’s silent for a bit before he answers, his humorous tone disappears and is one of pure sincerity. “Because I thought I’d finally grow the balls to ask you out.” He shakes his head as he keeps his focus out on the horizon. “Didn’t want to lessen my chance at dating you if you thought I was going from girl to girl but I see that didn’t work either way.”

Pushing yourself off him, you turn to face him. “You liked me? Was this before or after you started hating me?” Scoffing he smiles sadly and shakes his head. “I never hated you.” “Yeah I find that hard to believe.” “It’s true,” looking up to stare into your eyes. You notice how they begin to soften the deeper he looks into your orbs. “ I thought if I started being a dick to you maybe i’d forget about you but it never worked. While you hated me, I…” he scoffs and looks down at his hands. “You what?..” you get a hold of his hands, stopping him from playing with his fingers. “While you hated me…I fell in love with you.” His voice falls into one of a whisper. But you hear it, loud and clear. “I fucked around to forget about you but each time I saw you, my snide comments came out as a defense mechanism to avoid admitting my feelings for you. And for that…I’m sorry for what I said. I know I can never take them back.” “And I’m sorry as well.” You cup his face to look at you. “I’m stuck up because I try to pretend that I have my shit together when I don’t. I pretended to be better than you as a way to prove that I didn’t need you in my life. That there was no need to like you, to not think about dating you. Not fall in love with you.”

Gulping, he asks you softly. “And did it work?” Smiling sadly, you shake your head no. Staring into your eyes for a few seconds until he does the reasonable choice and goes in for a kiss. Hand reaching the back of your head, he pulls you closer to him. Afraid he’d lose you if he didn’t have you close to him. Tilting his head to reach deeper, sighing contently when you give him access. Groaning when he feels your tongue on his, the familiar feeling in his pants return but he tries not to act upon it. But it’s hard, so hard when it comes to you. For years he’s tried suppressing his want for you. For years he’s pretended you never had an affect on him and yet every chance he got he’d look over and admire you from a far. In awe at how well you wore your outfits, mesmerized by your beauty and your confidence. Your mere presence has him squirming and heart beating out of his chest. And as unfortunate it is to know that his first time with you he had no recollection of, it seems as if this was your very first kiss together. And it’s something he wants to cherish forever. So when you finally pull away and stare at each other lovingly, Jaemin grins and leans in for more. Heart fluttering when he hears you let out a soft moan. Squirming to try and hide the now obvious hard on, and when you climb on his lap and wrap your arms around his neck, he’s a goner. “Tell me you want me and I’m yours, I promise.” He breathes out heavily, almost pleading for you to tell him so. “Only if you want me.” Grunting, he nods and leans in to kiss you again. “I want you always.”

Blanket on the floor, he lays you softly on it. Climbing on top of you, arms either side of your head as he loses you softly. Letting out a loud groan when he feels your leg come to wrap around his midriff. Pulling him on top of you, bulge coming directly down on your wet heat. “Y/n-“ “Want you Jaemin, please.” Pupils dilating, eyes filled with lust and affection he obliges immediately. Gently pulling your crop top off you, undoing the buttons until it reveals the matching red bra to your thong. He leans in to press soft kisses on your breast. “So pretty.” He murmurs, cupping your breasts and diving deeper. Hands wondering behind you until he unclasp your bra and tosses it aside. Quick to pop a tittie in his mouth and start to suck. Fondling the other with his large hand as he looks up at you. Slightly grinding on top of you, feeling extra sensitive you throw your head back and take in the building pleasure. “Feels so good Jaemin.” Pulling away with a pop, he unbuttons his dirty blouse and throws it aside. Grinning when he feels you beginning to unzip his pants. “Impatient?” “Been wanting you for years, it’s understandable why.” Groaning he leans in to smash his lips on top of yours. “If only you knew just how much I’ve been wanting you,” leaning down to start sucking hickies on your neck and pulls away for a split second to talk. “All the sinful things I’ve done with you on my mind. Alone in the bathroom as I jerk myself off to the thought you…on your knees with your pretty little mouth open for me.” Biting your lip, you run a hand through his hair. Loving how he rolls his eyes and takes in the feeling of your hand slightly tugging his hair oh so sweetly, “then let me live up to your expectations.”

And like that, his fantasies became a reality. Standing and with you in your knees, he strikes your hair softly as you spit on his cock. Licking a long strip at his underside, eyes never once looking away from him. “So fucking pretty baby.” He curses out, holding your hair in a makeshift ponytail. Jolting when you begin to suck his red angry tip, oozing with precum you kitten lick it off. Hallowing your mouth as you took him further. “Shit!” Your speed increased and started bobbing your head. At times pausing to take him completely in the back of your throat causing a loud growl to emit from him. Throwing his head back as he tries to regain his steady breathing. And when you begin to play with his balls, he loses it. Getting a hold of your pretty face before he starts to shove his cock down your throat. “Fuck, I’m so sorry baby it feels too good,” you never thought Jaemin to be so..needy and apologetic from a man who was overly dominating. The kind who may even be into conflicting some pain kink. “You can take it right princess?” Nodding as much as you can with his cock deep in your mouth you slightly gag. Letting you go, you pull back to breathe. Feeling him pull your head up, he leans down to kiss you. Getting a bit of the salty taste on his lips. “I’m close baby, where do you want it?” “Wanna taste it Jaemin, let me swallow your load.” “Fuck,” standing up straight, he holds the back of your head. “All yours baby, take me as you please.” Watching as you take him back in your mouth, not caring when you gag you deep throat him with the intention of making him cum. Jerking him off in fast pace motion which is making him even more sensitive. He feels himself nearing his climax, his load building more and more. And when you begin to suck him like a lollipop again does he finally bust in your mouth. “Fuck y/n,” he feels himself shake slightly, goosebumps running up his skin as he watches you swallow all of him. Your eyes soft and pouty as you look up at him. With fuck me eyes, pressing your tits on him and rubbing yourself on his foot he slowly pulls you off his dick. Opening your mouth and there being a small web of his semen he can’t help but lean in and kiss you passionately. An arm under your leg as he lowers you on your back, removing the last bit of your clothing before spreading your legs for him.

Laying trails of kisses, brushing past the love marks he’s already left on your pretty skin, until he reaches your sopping cunt. Pressing a soft kiss to your nub and smirking when you immediately react to the sensation. “Keep em open for me princess.” Pressing more kisses to your clit until he starts taking long licks. Throwing your head back and letting out a pornographic moan this only encourages him to keep going. Rubbing a finger up your cunt as he buried himself further into your puffy pussy. Holding the back of his head and pushing it closer to your cunt your grip tightly onto the blanket when he prods your hole with his tongue. Whining when he pulls away, you squeal when he flips positions. With him on the ground and you over him, he keeps you above his face. Arms resting on either side of your thighs and without wasting a second, pulls you to sit on his face. Mewling at the pleasure, you lay your hands on his chest behind you, rubbing your self all over his mount in which he gladly eats. Sucking and licking, he pulls away for a second to spit and lubricate you more before attaching his mouth back on you. Licking figure eights on your nub repeatedly even when you begin to squirm above him. Squealing when he lands a harsh smack on your ass. Forcing you back to sit on his face. “Be good baby.” He tells you sternly. “Feels too good Jaem, fuck I’m close.” And even when you do come he still doesn’t stop. Sending you into overdrive, legs beginning to shake and chest heaving the more you find it difficult to catch your breath. “Fuck Jaemin, I can’t baby feels too good god no more!” You go to push at his head but he grabs your hands and sets them on your thighs as he continues to eat you out. It’s obvious he’s gotten pussy drunk, never has this happened before mostly he hits it and quits it but it’s you, of course the girl of his dreams is going to make his sexual experience a hundred times more amazing and meaningful. From someone who wasn’t really into oral, now willing to suffocate in your sex.

Despite your protests, you continued to grind on his face. His tongue was talented in many ways, he knew exactly how to make you feel good and as much as your body begged for no more you yearned for it like a bitch in heat. A part of you wishing he never stops and if he had it his way, he never would. But when he eventually does, his mouth is covered in your essence and fingers roughly rubbing your cunt. “Jaemin!” Squelching sounds get much louder, and out like a faucet comes your juices. Never did you think you’d be a squirter. “So good for me, my good girl.” He presses a kiss on your temple as you come down from your high. Pulling you into his lap where he hugs you, brushing your loose strands of hair behind your ears. And while he whispers your words of affirmation, he gets ready to push his tip in you. And you gladly open for him. “Oh god! Jaemin fuck you’re so damn big!” His girth was big, barely fit your hand, the length was a bit above average and the speed his thrusts were sure have you limping. The morning after your sexcapades with him you felt a bit of a limp but your raging headache over bared it. Now this time would be different there’d be no roofies to block the oncoming soreness you would bound to get. But you didn’t care, you wanted him. You wanted to bounce on his dick and have him make love to you until you dropped unconscious . So this went on for hours in the middle of the night when the city was fast asleep and the two of you busied yourself in fucking each other’s brains out. No longer caring how loud you two may be. Breasts bouncing in his face as you fucked yourself on his dick, face leaning in to burying deep in between your tits. Back arched and on your knees as he takes you from behind, the loud sounds of cheeks clapping emits through the air as he gets a tight hold on your neck and pins you still. Fucking you until he busts his load in you.

Getting you on your back where he’d throw your leg over his shoulder and pound into you, begging you to come on his cock. “Gonna get this belly round and full of my cum.” On your side where he holds your leg in mid air and rams into you. Nibbling and sucking on your neck to add even more dark hickies making sure that by morning he’d be reminded that he made love to you all night. The scratch marks on his back would definitely still be red by morning and very much apparent. The love marks all over his chest and those on your thighs would serve as memories from when he made you his. “Mine.” He hums as he cums in you one last time. So full you can’t hold no more and immediately begin to spill. But he won’t take it, so he keeps fucking you until he’s satisfied that you have most of him in you, not caring if he has to stuff you full of his cock again to do so. “Yours.” You hum back tiredly. “You mine too?” Chuckling he nods, running a hand through his sweaty hair , he wiped his forehead using his shirt and leans in to kiss you softly. “Of course, all yours…” pressing another kiss he rubs his nose on yours. “You own me.” Giggling you smack his arm and hold him tight. Not wanting to lose his warmth. “We should head back.” Whining in protest you pull him closer to you again, “No stay right here.” Groaning when he plunged deeper in your sex his lustful state begins to circle again. “Keep doing that and I might just fuck you again.” Pressing a kiss to his nose, you clench your walls around him. “Fuck me Jaemin.” And so he does gladly.

By the time morning came the two of you had fallen on the roof. And when the clock set eight am the two of you were back to fucking each other like crazy. “Ah right there, right there, right there!” You grip onto his arm tightly as he pounds into you harder until you squirt for him again. Picking you up and proceeds to bounce you off his dick you grab onto him tightly and hiccup with a few slight tears running down your face. Smashing his lips onto yours, forcing his tongue inside your mouth. Both bodies completely covered in dark bruised and scratch marks. Lips swollen and eyes puffed from the crying of intense pleasure. Jaemin grunts loudly when he cums in you again, “mmm fuck you sure you didn’t just fuck another baby in me?” Laughing lightly, he sets you down gently and thrusts his fingers inside your cunt. In love with your squelching noises, he doesn’t stop until you come for him one last time and when you do he wasted no time shoving his wet fingers in your mouth. Demanding for you to suck and when he thinks you did a good job cleaning him, he has you on your knees sucking his dick. “Such a good girl.” He doesn’t stop praising you, he knows how much you love it. How happy you get that it causes motivation to suck him more, better and faster. “Alright that’s enough baby don’t want you getting high off my dick.” Noticing the heavenly look on your face, he helps you stand and kisses you passionately. “Come back to me baby.” He whispers to you softly knowing you’ve fallen slightly into subspace. And when you do come back, he doesn’t waste time cuddling you. Covering you in the blanket and pressing soft kisses on your head, “did so good princess.” He rocks the two of you softly. “Ready to go back inside?” You nod tiredly.

“Where the hell have you been you two?” Haechan asks like a worried mother. Sparing a glance over, Jeno snorts. “Isn’t it obvious Hyuck? The two were off somewhere fucking like bunnies. Just glad they finally acknowledged the sexual tension.” Chenle walks over to look closely at the hickies, a glare on his Jaemin’s face when he sees he’s a little too close to you. “Oh yeah they most definitely should be expecting twins sometime soon.” He laughs and walks off. Huffing Jaemin speaks up. “Are we done chitchatting? Can we just get ready and get the hell out of here to get our friend back?” “The weddings today.” You remind yourself, nodding Jaemin claps his hands. “Alright quickly shower so we can get a move on.” Half an hour before the designated time to meet the boss the five of you quickly rush out the door with the bag of money and drive out to the middle of no where we you were instructed to do. In the black SUV, a few trucks surrounding the vehicle they await for your arrival. Parked in front no one dares to make the first move to leave. “What are we suppose to do?” Chenle asks. “I don’t know.” Jaemin shrugs and continues to stare ahead waiting for any movement but see none. “Should we honk at them?” Haechan speaks. You turn to him, “Honk? That’ll aggravate them.” “Aggravate? How so?” “C’mon Hyuck you only honk at a person if you’re demanding for them to get a move on.” “She’s got a point.” Jeno says following by a chorus of agreements from the others.

“Bullshit-“ sliding the clear window open, he reaches over to the steering wheel. “Haechan no-“ Jaemin and Jeno try to get him to stop but fail to do so and instead, a loud honk goes off in the middle of the desert. Freezing, you all watch as they begin to pile out of their vehicles and wait for you in front. “See?” Haechan scoffs and begins to get out of the car, following after him the five of you walk up to them. With the very boss standing in the middle with sunglasses on and a cigarette in hand. Once he knew you were in ear shot he points at Jaemin. “Next time you honk at me I’ll kill you.” Taken aback by it, he only makes a noise of disbelief. “See?” You retort to Hyuck who stood beside you. Snapping his fingers he extends his hand out, “money.”

Tossing him the black bag, the boss snaps to get one of his men to count it all up. As he did so, the suspense only rose and caused the terrible dread in you to build. “It’s all of it.” His deep voice spoke to him, “Very well, deal is a deal. Bring him out.” The door suddenly opens as the men drag a body out roughly, a bag over his head and arms tied behind him. “Mark!” The guys begin to call out for him and when he’s placed in front of you all, bag removed from him the once joy you were filled with is immediately wiped off.

“Who the hell are you?” Jeno tells the stranger in shock, “I’m Mark.” Clicking his tongue, he drops his hand on his leg leaving a loud smack before he turns to look at the mafia boss. “Yeah no, uh…hey! You kinda gave us the wrong guy.” Shaking his head, he points at the stranger. “Nah uh that’s Mark.” “Look I tried to tell him he’s got the wrong guy-“ “No, you see our Mark is Asian. This here, is a Caucasian man.” “You sure?”

Groaning, the group begins to feel dejected.

“Unless he decided to pull an April Fools Prank on us and change race…yeah we’re sure this isn’t him.” Shrugging, he raised his arms in defeat. “Too bad for you then, ok bye bye!” “Wait! You said you had him, where is he?!” “Not my problem now fuck off, you should be lucky I’m even sparing you twats!” One by one, they all cleared out the area. Leaving behind a hush of dirt that the five of you would have to cough out of your lungs. “Shit!”

With the bit of reception you got, you were finally able to get the call to go through. Have since stayed in the same spot from where the stand off took place. With the guys leaning on the car, you all decided it was time to come out with the truth. So when the line was received and heard her voice greet you, you spoke. “Hey Angie…”

“What should we do now?” Chenle asks to no one in particular. “Well…” Jaemin starts. “For starters, weddings off.” “Oh totally.” “Mhmm.” They all agree and he continues, “Secondly, we have no other choice but to file a police report.” “You know once we do that we’ll go to jail right? They’re still searching for us. If it’s not for the cop car we stole then it’s everything else.” Groaning, he covers his face with his hands. “We have no other choice Jeno, we can’t find Mark any where. For someone who hates walking for long periods of time he surely knows how to wonder off for miles.” Suddenly, Chenle sits up. “You’re right…” “huh?” Watching as their Orange haired friend start to piece whatever realization together, he scoffs and laughs. “I got it!” “Got what?” “Mark! I know where he is!” “How?”

“Just like you said, Mark hates walking. He can lock himself in a gym for weeks and not care but walking? No way. He’d rather play the piano than have to walk.” “Please get to the point Zhong.” Jaemin says tiredly, a patch of sweat falling down his forehead by the hot blazing sun. “This morning, the elevator stopped working for those going to floors 1-5 including the basement , the main floor is on the sixth. Now the basement can only be reached by two ways, the elevator and stairs but to go down to the stairs you need a key to open the door. Last night, we were downstairs playing poker then we ran off with the money. But we came back, what if we went to check if the boss was still down there? If we did and saw the coast was clear we must’ve stayed there for a while, decided to pull a prank on Mark, leave him in there and by doing so breaking the elevator so it can’t go down any more.”

“Then we forgot about him, and he’s been there ever since…” Jaemin finished it off. Processing his friends theory it makes sense, the confetti, paint, all of that can be found in the basement for special party requests that guests order as part of room service. It could be how they even got their hands on it. “Oh…my…god.” Looking over to where you stood only a few yards away, he quickly gets off the hood of the car and runs over to you. ‘For the last few days, we’ve been searching everywhere but we can’t find him. We can’t find Mark-‘ Feeling the phone get roughly snatched out of your grip, you shout at Jaemin to give it back but he pulls it up against his ear. ‘Angie! Hey! Did y/n here say we couldn’t find him? Don’t listen to her, she’s still a little loopy from all those margaritas she drank. I know I keep telling her to relax on them but you know how she goes, don’t tell me what to do and you’re not the boss of me…haha’ dropping the smile immediately after seeing the glare you send him, he clears his throat and gets back on track. ‘Mark is with us and we’re on our way you just get ready, we’re coming ok? Alright bye!’ Cutting Angie off before she can bombard him with questions he tosses you the phone and holds you hand leading you over to the car. “Come on we know where Mark is.”

“Mark!” You all begin to shout as you go down the stairs. Getting closer to the basement until finally getting to the door. Slamming on it, you realize there’s no key. “Some one kick it.” But when Jeno tries, it doesn’t budge. Turning your head and seeing the fire extinguisher, you break the glass by punching it. The shards of it immediately cuts you but you ignore the sting and grab the extinguisher, “Here use this.” Accepting it, Jeno asks the rest to take a step back and begins to smash it against the knob until it finally opens. “Mark?!” Piling in, you split to find him faster. Rushing past the piano, you freeze when you notice a figure sitting besides it. Gasping, you noticing it was none other than the missing boy. “Found him!” Kneeling besides him, you notice he was dehydrated and miserable most likely for having not eaten in days and having to put up with the hang over on top of that. “Mark are you okay?” You hear Haechan ask as the others follow close behind him. Looking up slowly, he softly manages to let out, “You’re all assholes.” Soft chuckles and relieved smiles are on everyone’s faces as they help him up. Jeno and Jaemin on either side of him with his arms over their shoulders. “Boy are we glad to have found you, you have no idea what we went to find you.” As he climbs the stairs weakly with the rest trailing behind, “Does anyone know what happened last night?” Only getting a chorus of laughs, he chuckles along confusedly.

Quickly getting him in the car and off back to Angie’s house, a quick stop to the gas station to get Mark something to eat and to bandage your hand. You took longer to get out, the guys waited outside. Jaemin filled up the gas tank as he watched Mark inhale the twinkies down and chug down the large bottle of water. “What did you do in there?” Shrugging he takes a breather, “what I could do, play the piano. After a while though I got too dizzy to even focus and collapsed on the floor, been there til you all found me.” “So sorry man, it’s those roofies we took. Really fucked us up.” “Roofies?” Nodding, Jaemin raises a brow in amusement. “Promise we’ll explain on the way home.” Nodding he goes back in the car once the others do. Just as Jaemin pulls the lever back in its spot, he walks over to where you stood. Outside the doors of the gas station. White gauze wrap covering the gash the glass left on your hand. “Hey, you alright?” Taking your hand gently you merely nod at him. “Doesn’t hurt does it?” Turning it slightly to look for any major injuries, lifting the wrap softly to take a peek inside you get a hold of his hand to stop him. “I’m fine.”

“Well then we better get going. Wedding’s in four hours, and then we can finally talk about our situation.” “Situation?” “Yeah. Us, the baby. What’ll be the next step.” He sends you a small smile, coming to terms with the fact that he’ll be a father soon. You send one back but it becomes to overbearing to continue faking and soon it breaks into a frown. “You okay?” He asks you worriedly. “Yeah I’m okay.” You utter out and go to push past him but he stops you, “Hey, y’know you can talk to me right?” He had a hold on your arm, hearing a crunch from what you had holding. He looks down to see the green packaging for pads. Looking back up at you, you can’t look in his eyes. Conflicted by what you were feeling…sadness?…happy? But mostly worried by how he’ll react. Maybe he’ll be upset and stop speaking to you or he’d realize he never felt anything for you and it was all in the heat of the moment because he knew he’d be stuck with you given you were carrying his supposed offspring.

“Is that…?” Nodding softly, you move your hand away from his grasp. “Turns out I was just late…” you look up at him with a few tears beginning to well up in your eyes. “A false positive was all it was.” He was at loss for words, much like you he didn’t know how to react. He had to admit it was scary to think his world was flipped upside down with the whole baby bomb, but then there was the sudden joy to have a little one to call his. As much as he wished to take a walk and process it he knows he can’t be given that luxury. So wiping the single tear that falls from your eye, you tap his bicep and nod over to the car. “C‘mon, we got a wedding to catch up to.” Getting in, turned away from the others. None ask questions. Ignition is turned on the second Jaemin gets in and off you all went. Midway, he stopped on the side of the road where they all jumped out to change into their suits while leaving privacy for you inside to change into your bridesmaid dress. Fixing your hair and quickly applying the little makeup you brought with you, you take out your heels to put on. Taking off your shoes and out falls a gold key, holding it up it catches the attention of Haechan. “The key to the basement.” He snickers and shakes his head.

“Can I tell you guys something?” Mark suddenly says. “When I woke up, I had a bag with me…” Unzipping it, the car erupts in shock gasps as they see what contained inside it. “Can someone explain why I have thirty grand?” Everyone laughs, Haechan who’s currently sitting on his lap, pulls him into a tight hug and rubs his head. “Oh Markie!” “What?” But again, he’s not given a full explanation until about half an hour to their final destination. Worried they’d have to call it off, Renjun and Jisung had just left the room filled with a very frantic bride. Had just convinced her to not smear her makeup with her tears. Walking out of the house, they’re about to make the decision to call it off when a loud horn goes off. “Is that?” Watching as the very beaten up car comes into the driveway and out the six of you get out hurriedly. They grin and go to hug them when they start demanding for people to move out of the way. “Right this way come on Mark!” Running off into the backyard not caring what the guests thought as they watched him sprint by the aisle and onto the stage, “Sorry for the dilemma, shall we get started?”

Slamming the door open, you try to catch your breath but only get more of it knocked out when you feel Angie’s arms wrap around you. “Where the hell have you been?” She scolds at you with a worried look. “So sorry…long…story but…m’here now. Mark is here…fuck…it’s show time.” Her sadness now replaced with happy jitters she starts to smile and walks out of the room where her father waits with the others. The groomsmen and bridesmaid all in formation to go pair by pair and as it starts nearing to the last pair before the bride, thus being you and Jaemin. You hook your arm over his gently. Taking slow cautious steps as the guests stand and watch you two. “You look beautiful by the way.” He whispers low enough for you to hear. “Thank you, you don’t look all that bad either.” Thinking it was the end of it, he keeps going. “You know I’m here for you no matter what right? Baby or no baby.” Swallowing hard, you hum. “So if you’d do me the honors, I’d like to take you out sometime say next Saturday night?” Smiling sheepishly, you’re at the end of the aisle and go to part. “Sure why not, we’re married aren’t we?” And walk over to stand with the other bridesmaids with Jaemin sending you a smirk.

Watching as Angie comes in view with her father besides her, you watch mesmerized by her beauty. Even noticing a tear roll down Mark’s face, and when the officiant mentions the rings both you and Jaemin pause and send each other looks. And then it clicks, “oh! Right!” Taking off the ring you still had wrapped around your finger as he takes his off from his chain, you ignore the confused look on Angie’s face and give her the ring. Swapping it, they go to put it on each others finger. Looking up and catching eyes with Jaemin, he sends you a wink in which you slightly giggle and look back at the couple. And when the words are heard to kiss the bride, everyone bursts in cheers.

After a long night of partying and watching as the happy couple parts for their honeymoon, you hear one of the bridesmaid suggest to go to Vegas soon. “It was very fun-“ “NO!” She’s suddenly cut off by the five of you, only to regain composure and look again. Chuckling, you feel Jaemin pull a strand of your hair behind your ear. Looking up and meeting eyes with him, he stares deeply into your inching closer and closer until he kisses you softly. “Hey guys check this out! Found it in my suitcase.” Chenle holds the camera he had taken with him, “Lets just say they’re graphic for sure.” “You sure we should be looking at this?” Renjun asks worriedly, “Duh we need to get a clear understanding as to what happened last night.” “Okay but we’ll see it once though then delete it.” Jisung warns, rolling his eyes Hyuck agrees. Showing everyone the set of pictures a lot of mixed reactions to them but mostly one of shock and in disbelief.

From strippers giving the guys lap dances, to getting paint over the guys. Confetti getting shot by canons while shots were made. A baseball bat no one knew how it got in the hands of Haechan as he began to break everything. A few of you giving body shots to Jaemin while the others cheered on. Ones from the club where it clearly showed when you all took the roofies and Mark on stage pole dancing. To posing on top of the police car Chenle had just stolen the keys to. To Jaemin carrying you while you held a bottle of wine with a veil over your head and the Diamond ring shining brightly on your finger. And lastly, the house in which you all stole the Mafia boss’s pet Python. And then the realization hit…

“Did we ever give him back the snake?”

Suddenly, a crowd of screams could be heard from the front of the house where the beat up Mercedes was parked at.

Oh shit.

[stoplickingmyneck]

fuck it. ronance wedding headcanons

- they def had an unofficial lil backyard “wedding” with the party back in the 90s. like, jeans and tee shirts and 15 dollar rings and eat hot dogs around a fire pit unofficial

- they kept those cheap ass rings on 24/7, and when they finally rusted and crumbled and were absolutely unwearable they put them in nancy’s ballerina trinket box, the one robin’s still fascinated by after all these years

- when they bought their first house (they move to indianapolis so nancy can work for the star btw, i feel like robin would be some sort of counselor too?), the first thing robin did was take a big ol bulletin board and nail it right to the bedroom wall. for the next twenty years it became their dream board, where they’d pin magazine clippings of suits and dresses, rings and bouquets and venues, dreaming of the day it could be their turn for real

- they have a record player in their kitchen and play cheesy slow music, elvis and frank sinatra typa stuff, while they cook or eat dinner or do work at the counter. every time a song that nancy likes comes on she begs robin to slow dance with her, and she grudgingly agrees every time. and robin fucking sucks. tripping over nothing, not knowing where to look or put her hands, getting flustered at every little move her girlfriend makes. nancy jokes that robin better not be like this during their first dance, and robin grumbles back that she’d rather hire a stunt double than suffer through this (she secretly loves it tho)

- attending weddings is so hard for them. not that they’re not happy for the couples, but because they know they might never get one of their own. when they get. home from max and lucas’ wedding, nancy breaks down in robin’s arms, sobbing that it would be so much easier if she were straight. robin holds her tight and reassures her so gently, and after she calms down they pull out the stack of wedding inspiration books they’ve acquired over the years, put on an old rom-com, settle side by side on the couch and stay up until 3 am gushing over ideas

- in 2015, the moment the announcement comes out that the supreme court legalized gay marriage, nancy speeds home from work, like, 20 miles over the speed limit and finds robin on the front steps, sobbing her eyeballs out, a big dumb grin on her face. nancy gets down on one knee right there on the driveway, not caring that it’s pouring rain and she doesn’t have a ring and and she looks like she just stepped out of the goddamn upside down. robin drops to the ground in front of her and kisses nancy harder than ever before

- nancy wants a traditional wedding. robin wants fun and unique, none of that “old-fashioned bullshit”. they butt heads over it constantly during the planning process, but slowly grow to adore each others’ styles and compromise on every detail

the invitations ^^^ they have a cute lil spring wedding right before their 50th birthdays😇

robin’s suit n nancy’s dress ^^^ nance would absolutely be the typa girl to wear karen’s old dress and robin would want the most basic, no frills suit to ever exist

their shoes ^^^ robin can barely stand on her own two feet so heels were out of the question. nancy spent weeks and weeks learning how to embroider just so she could surprise her fiance with cute flowered converse at their bridal shower. robin cried

their hair ^^^ idk what to caption this with lol

their flowers ^^^ ruth n rose colors, Nancy thought it was fucking hilarious when robin suggested it so it stuck. the idea of robin in a boutonniere makes me drool too

the ceremony n reception ^^^ nance wanted to get married in a big white church like she saw in movies when she was a little girl, robin wanted someplace quaint and cozy to spend the night surrounded by her best friends. worked out perfectly

their rings ^^^ adorbs

the cake^^^ robin would 100% take nancy's last name bc she worships her wife and fuck stereotypes

^^^ i like to think steve jokingly suggests they serve ice cream, a lil nod to their scoops days, not expecting robin to adore the idea and immediately write it down

best men steve and jonathan ^^^ they wouldn't have bridesmaids cuz what other women do they need in their lives tbh👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

other stuff:

-being apart for like 3 hours while they get ready is torture. before the ceremony they do that first look thingy where they're standing back to back on opposite sides of a wall and they're holding hands and they're so nervous and giggly and then they do a countdown and peek around and both of them just stand there in shock. like they just watched the sky open up and an angel fall to earth. and then nance throws her arms around robin's neck and they start bawling cuz they realize their 20-plus-year dream is coming true UGH. when they step back robin runs a finger through nancy's curls and whispers how she's as beautiful as the first time she laid eyes on her and nancy melts

-they walk down the aisle hand in hand, exchange long sappy handwritten vows, and fall so perfectly into place when they kiss. it's like a scene from a disney movie. not dry eye in the damn building

-at the reception, there's lil charcuterie boards at each table, and they serve wood-fired pizza cuz it's what they ate on their first date (plus it's robin's fave)

-steve and jonathan bring the HOUSE down with their best men speeches. steve's is full of embarrassing jokes about robin that make her face turn red, and when he brings up how she peed her pants in the russian lab she jokingly (kinda) threatens to slit his throat. jonathan's is so sweet and tender and you can tell he still loves nance so so much

-after the speeches robin excuses herself outside and comes back 5 minutes later with a guitar. she plays a song she wrote for nancy. it's generous heart. because maya is robin in this world and doesn't exist and tbh i don't care. it's incredible

-their first dance song is first day of my life by bright eyes

-i hate ted and idk anything aboutt robin's dad so they don't get dances whoops

-nancy cuts the cake because robin with knives is a death wish

-the ice cream cart is a huge hit (steve brags about it for years). robin's a chocolate girl and nancy's a lemon sorbet lover

-they drink champagne and dance to 80s music until the ceiling spins. around midnight nancy grabs robin's hand and pulls her through the crowd to the balcony. they sway there together under the stars, foreheads pressed together, pressing an occasional kiss to the other's cheek. in that moment, they both agree nothing on their dream board could be as good as this

-ALSO instead of a honeymoon they take a road trip, driving route 66 to california, stopping to take pictures at every little landmark and singing at the top of their lungs for hours💘

[painted-flag]

From Eden, V - Benjicot Blackwood

✧.* masterlist. ✧.* pairing: benjicot blackwood x oc!daenys velaryon ✧.* warnings: 18+ MDNI (general smut, PiV, creampie, mild dirty talk, slight praise kink) ✧.* word count: 5.7k. ✧.* summary: the time for Daenys and Benjicot's wedding has come. celebrations are abundant and the newly married couple enjoy their time together. yet, the harbinger of ill news creeps ever closer. enemies prepare to make their first strike, unbeknownst to those on dragonstone.

Daenys paced back and forth in the vaulted stone corridor just outside the large reception hall of Dragonstone. Her shoes tapped against the floor with an uneven rhythm as her body lit with nerves. Her wedding gown, a beautiful ivory with black and red embellishments captured the imagery of both House Targaryen and House Blackwood. From the dragon scale-like bodice that plunged gracefully at the neck, to the raven feather stitching that wrapped around her arms, Daenys’ dress represented the fusion of houses through marriage and military might. 

Her arms had wrapped themselves around her torso in an attempt to comfort herself. It would be mere minutes until the doors would open and she would be walked down the aisle; tying herself to Benjicot in body and soul. The ceremony would be done in the faith of the seven. While she and Benjicot did not partake in said religion - Daenys worshipping the old gods of Valyria and Ben the old gods - it had to be done for the satisfaction of most of the realm. As a princess, she must be seen praying and abiding faithfully to the seven, thus her wedding must adhere to those customs. 

Ben had forwarded the idea of a private Valyrian wedding ceremony the morning after and one in front of the old gods at the Weirwood tree at Raventree Hall. Daenys gladly accepted the plan and was warmed at seeing Ben so open to learning about the Valyrian gods. She too had returned the sentiment by spending many hours in the library absorbing any information that she could about the old gods. 

Yet, through that dedication and more largely her courtship with Benjicot, a seed of doubt had been planted in her mind and quickly sprouted into a weed. No matter how often she would rip it out, it grew back soon after. Daenys had doubts regarding their dedication to one another. Had she made a foolish mistake? Turned a quick fancy into a sentence that would haunt her for life? While Benjicot did not waver in his dedication, insecurity had always been her weakness. Being mostly raised in Kings Landing had her always questioning people's motives. 

Daenys was overcome with the urge to climb aboard Suneater and fly away. 

Was she just a prize for the Riverlands? Something Lord Tully could boast about; that one of his bannermen snagged a princess. Danys was used to being used. A trophy that was to be plucked and placed on a shelf to display when the owner wanted it. She had been reduced to that many times when lords would visit Kings Landing and leer at her. 

Benjicot was different. She knew - with all her heart and soul - that he was not using her for nefarious purposes. His passion was true, but Daenys was always her own worst enemy. Any ounce of positivity was surely wrapped in venom, that is what the South had taught her. The Riverlands - despite not being in the north - held much of the northern culture of honour and decency without so much of the intense chill of winter, to her benefit. 

Her worries continued to compound even while spaced footsteps echoed down the hall. In her periphery, Daemon emerged from a dark hallway. He, like everyone else, had dressed in the finest of clothing for the wedding. It was his duty to walk her down the aisle, as the only living male head of her family. 

In another world, Daenys would have liked Laenor to be the one to walk her. Perhaps, even her true father Harwin. However, Daemon had proven to be a good stepfather. Distant and a tad bit chaotic, that is true, but there for the family when needed. 

“And how is the bride?” His teasing voice poked at her. He wore a smirk on his face and crossed his arms. 

Daenys sent him a look of annoyance as she continued to pace, “Oh, I am doing wonderfully. No feeling of impending doom at all.” 

“It is time,” Daemon held his arm out to her, “Or are you backing out? It would be nice not to be the main disappointment of the family for once.” 

“Absolutely not.” Daenys wrapped her arm around his and the two faced the large wooden doors to enter the hall. They stood there silently for a moment, waiting for the doors to open. Daenys glanced up at Daemon and opened and closed her mouth a few times. 

The doors opened with a loud boom. Daenys could see the hall filled with lords and ladies all standing around waiting to catch a glimpse of the bride. Daenys sucked in a breath, suddenly more nervous than before now that countless eyes were on her. She leaned ever so slightly towards Daemon while keeping her gaze forward. 

“Please don’t let me fall,” Daenys whispered. 

Daemon kept his gaze trained on the aisle ahead but responded with sincerity, “Never.” 

The two moved forward and down the three steps into the grand room. Daenys struggled to keep her gaze forward and away from those in the crowd. She had no interest in such a large ceremony, though it is still significantly smaller than what would have been if the wedding was in Kings Landing. All Daenys truly wanted was a small ceremony with close friends and family and a nice dinner celebration. The bells and whistles of her status demanded otherwise. 

Her gaze lifted from the ground, trying desperately not to trip, to meet that of Benjicot who stood up on a raised dias with a septon. Suddenly, that urge to jump on her dragon and flee had left. Ben’s eyes pierced her, a look of adoration sweeping across his features. His hands were clasped in front of him and his body swayed slightly - Daenys suspected with either anticipation or nerves. He carried his signature smirk to project a manner of aloofness to the people. Benjicot was not one to publicly display affection and chose to reserve those moments for privacy. 

Daenys still held trepidation as Daemon brought her up to the dias. Ben moved down to hold his arm out to her. Daenys took it with appreciation as he helped guide her up the steps. Daemon moved to the right side of the gathered crowd, standing with Rhaenyra and the family. 

Her heart was beating in quick succession and her lungs struggled to take in air. Ben saw her rising chest and glassy eyes and squeezed her hands with assurance. The Septon glanced at the couple before clearing his throat. 

“You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection.” 

Benjicot reached up and unclipped the cloak that rested on his shoulders. He swung it around and held it out. Daenys turned to present her back to him. He wrapped the cloak around her shoulders, his fingertips tracing the skin of her neck. She felt on fire under his touch and flashes of their wedding night came into her vision. Daenys cursed herself for thinking such impure thoughts in from of a Septon and a crowd of lords and ladies. Ben clipped the pin of the cloak, securing it to her figure and stepped back. 

The cloak was made in black and red colours with an intricately embroidered sigil of House Blackwood. It was a stark contrast to the pure ivory gown she wore. 

“My lords, my ladies, we stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.” The septon proclaimed. Daenys joined her right hand with Benicot’s left and held them up. The septon held a piece of ribbon in his hands and proceeded to tie it around their hands, joining them as one. 

“Let it be known that the Princess Daenys of House Velaryon and Lord Benjicot of House Blackwood are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder.” Daenys took in his words as the Septon continued, “In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity.”

Daenys exchanged glances with Ben, both of them smiling as the ceremony went on. He winked at her, making a red flush appear on her cheeks. Her reaction made Ben seal his mouth to refrain from laughing. The Septon untied the piece of ribbon, but their hands still held together.

“Look upon one another and say the words.” The Septon commanded. 

Benjicot and Daenys spoke in synch, “Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger…” She stared into his eyes when saying the words with him. The sudden understanding that this was it washed over her. This day sealed the rest of her life, until the day she died. 

“I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.” 

“I am his and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.” 

Their words echoed simultaneously throughout the hall as people stood watching. It was silent save for their voices. Everyone focused their attention on the newly wedded couple. 

Benjicot said the words of the groom, “With this kiss, I pledge my love.” He took her other hand in his and pulled Daenys in to kiss her. He held restraint for the sake of being in front of the crowd and did so gently. His soft, but slightly chapped lips brushed against hers as his hold tightened. The crowd began to clap loudly, some hollering at the unification of two houses. 

Daenys felt nothing but Ben’s presence and euphoria. Her feelings of trepidation just moments ago now felt ridiculous. To have ever been scared of this, of tying herself to this man, was perhaps the most irrational she had ever been. Ben pulled away first to rest his forehead against hers. He had to partially bend over because of his height. 

Her eyes opened to meet his - full of nothing but devotion. His lips, normally twisted in his characteristic smirk was nothing but a smile. Amidst the calls of celebration, Ben spoke nothing but a single word. 

“Wife.” The word was uttered with a sort of reverence she had only ever heard when septons and septas would speak of the Seven. 

“Husband.” Deanys reciprocated. It was neither the tone nor cadence she spoke that caused his pupils to expand and breath catch in his throat. It was simply the word itself that elicited a warmth that grew in his stomach. 

───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ─────

Daenys and Benjicot found themselves sitting in the middle of a long table on a raised platform in the grand hall. While the ceremony was held in the welcoming hall, their feast would be carried out in the largest of halls in Dragonstone. Enough room for the amount of tables needed to seat everyone and to dance. She sat next to her husband as others got into their seats and began to eat. 

Ben sat on her left and his family, Alysanne and Willem, were also accompanied by Oscar and Kermit Tully as guests of honour with a place at the high table. On Daenys side sat her mother then Daemon, followed by Lucerys, Rhaena, Jacaerys, and Baela. Joffrey, Aegon, and Viserys were too young to attend such a feast and had retired to their chambers after the ceremony. 

Lords and ladies all made their way up to the table to bow and wish luck on their union. It was all trivial, but the monotony of it was not enough to come close to boring her day. Ben would give thanks to their good wishes while Daenys would use the tricks growing up as a princess afforded her - a dazzling smile sent the lord's way to placate their emotions and leave them happy. Occasionally she would send out generous compliments regarding their station, wealth, or the greatness of their house. Though, often, Daenys held little knowledge of who they were. Regardless, it seemed to enchant each one. 

Baela and Jace, both having risen from their seats, walked arm in arm to the front of the table to speak to the newlyweds. Jace nodded to Ben with a smile while Baela leaned over the table to grasp Daenys hands in hers. Daenys rose to meet Baela and hugged her. While they did not spend their whole lives together, the women had forged a strong bond over common interests. 

“Congratulations, sister. And congratulations to you as well, lord.” Baela spoke. Ben nodded and thanked her. Baela continued, “I regret that I must be leaving so soon, but grandmother has requested my presence. I have been away for far too long.” 

Daenys understood why she must leave. The troubling news of Lord Corly's injuries in a recent scourge with pirates had left him clinging to life. It is not unusual that Rhaenys would wand Baela back as her ward, having suffered the knowledge of her husband's grave injury.

“I completely understand, Baela. If you need anything, please do not hesitate to write.” Daenys squeezed her hands before releasing them. Baela said her goodbyes to the couple before bowing and making her leave. Jacaerys watched after her form as she trailed off. Daenys cleared her throat to get her twin’s attention, but it did not work. Ben shared a look with her and they both knew what the other was thinking. Ben cleared his throat and it seemed to get his attention. 

Jace then spoke, “Well wishes for your marriage.” 

“Jace,” Daenys said and held a hand out for him. Jace took it and waited for her to continue, “I wanted to ask, if it is not too much, that you accompany Benjicot and me back to Raventree. We wish to hold a ceremony for the old gods and I want you to give me away.” His eyes widened at the request and his gaze swapped between the couple a few times. 

“Me? What about Daemon?” He asked. 

“The old gods grant me more choice over which male of my family could give me away. I want it to be with the one who came into this world with me.” Daenys answered. Her brother seemed to be taken aback by the request. Daenys could swear it almost looked like tears pooled in his eyes, but it could have been a trick of the candlelight. 

“Y-yes. Of course.” Jace stuttered out. 

Ben rose from his seat and took Daeny’s hand, “Thank you, my prince, for your congratulations. However, I must steal my wife for a dance.” Jace excused himself while Ben pulled Daenys around the table, down the steps, and into the area where people were dancing. 

He spun her to the tune of the band as they moved across the floor. One of his hands rested on her waist while the other lay in her hand. Occasionally the moves would call for moments of separation, but they always quickly moved back to the secure hold of one another. 

“This feel familiar?” Benjicot teased. Daenys thought back to the first time they danced. Lord Mooton had leered at her for a dance, but Ben swooped in to distract the lord and then seized the opportunity to dance with her. It amazed her how quickly things had changed. Only a few short moons ago they were strangers and now they are married. She thought back to her feelings in that moment with him. Trepidation and a feeling that was unknown at the time, but which Daenys now understood, as fondness. 

“Well, I am thankful that Lord Mooton felt too ill to make the travel here.” Daenys jested. 

“As if he would dare try anything,” Ben grumbled, “I suppose you are suffering the same as I?” 

Daenys nodded, “Only a few more hours and we could leave the festivities. I know you do not like being around all these people, but believe me, I feel the same. However, it is our duty.” 

“It is not the people that annoy me,” The dance called for Ben to pull her in closely. He leaned to her ear and whispered into it, “The wait to be alone with my wife is what is killing me.” He kissed her temple and pulled away. Daenys felt a rush of heat move across her face and body. 

Daenys skirted around his comment to distract herself from the heat pooling between her legs, “I suppose we will be hosting a large party soon. Your twentieth name day is approaching.” 

Ben groaned at her reminder and buried his head into the hair on the side of her head, “Do not remind me, love. What of your name day? A few short moons after mine. I would say ten and nine is a great accomplishment.” He spun her around. 

“Don’t try and steer the conversation away from you, my dear,” Daenys responded, though she noticed Ben looking at her with a sort of reverence. She furrowed her brows, “What is it? Do I have food on my face?” 

She broke from his hold in their dance to brush around her lips. Ben laughed and seized her hands from moving. He turned her around in his arms and proceeded to guide her in the steps. 

“I’m just thinking of all the name days we will have together,” Ben spoke. His words were short, but Daenys felt the breadth of the world in them. Her heart stuttered and their dance ended. Ben wrapped an arm around her waist, letting his hand rest on her hip. He pulled her close to him as they walked back to their table, greeting people as they passed. 

Once they were settled in their seats, Ben placed one of his hands on her thigh while picking up a mug of ale to drink. Daenys preferred wine, and so her goblet was full of the finest Arbour Gold. Ben and Daenys spent the night conversing with one another and friends. Hushed whispers were exchanged occasionally, with quick kisses when others were distracted. 

The evening blended into the night. The couple had danced a few more times, but the slight buzz they both were feeling hindered them from dancing more in fear of making fools of themselves. Daenys was watching Jacaerys in a drinking competition with Oscar and Kermit when Ben squeezed her thigh. He had kept his hand there the whole night, gently massaging her with his thumb. 

Daenys stopped watching her brother and looked at her husband. He held a grin on his face and leaned in to speak. 

His voice was hushed, but still heard over the jeers, laughter, and music of the hall, “I believe it is time for us to retire, my love.” Daenys understood the implications of his words and once again found herself flustered. He had been teasing her all night about it. She was thankful that there would be no bedding ceremony, as Ben had threatened the last lord that suggested it. 

Daenys leaned in closely, “Then take me, husband.” 

The sound of Ben’s chair scraping against the stone flooring rang in her eyes as he got up from his seat abruptly. The people in the hall happened to be turning towards the couple, all understanding where they were going. Chants of the lords and ladies got louder and louder as they all called out the phrase ‘to bed’ in jovial shouts. 

“Ignore them, my love.” Ben moved to scoop Daenys up, one arm wrapping under her knees and the other around her back. Daenys buried her head in his neck to try and cast out the people around them. She breathed in his scent of firewood and pine as he carried her out of the hall. They were alone in the vaulted stone hallways, and when Daenys made a move to leave his arms so he would not need to carry her anymore, Ben’s hold tightened. 

Upon making it to Daenys’ chambers, Benjicot dismissed the guards with a few curt words. He turned his back to the door and kicked out behind him. The wooden door flung open and he carried her inside. Ben placed her down gently and shut the door. Daenys felt a range of emotions. There was uncertainty about being in a room alone with him, but relief in knowing that they did not need to sneak around anymore. Her previous instincts to remain as quiet as possible and only spend short moments together could be flung from the tower itself. 

Suddenly, all of her clothes felt too tight on her. Daenys left Ben behind and sat at her vanity. Her hair was pinned up into countless different braids and twists with even more pins holding it together. She wanted to curse her handmaidens for getting her ready that morning. If only they had kept it simple, she could rid the style in a short time and fling herself into the arms of her husband. 

Daenys began to hurriedly remove the pins from her hair and untangle the braids. In the mirror she could see Ben behind her, unbuttoning his tunic. Daenys slowed her movements for a moment to watch him shrug off the expensive cover. The white linen shirt he had on was thin and hung loosely from his body. Ben lifted one foot onto a bench and proceeded to unlace his boots and move to the next one. He glanced up and caught Daenys’ eyes in the mirror and smirked. 

“Watching the show, Lady Blackwood?” Benjicot jested. He picked up the shoes and placed them down by a chest by the door. 

Daenys went back to undoing her hair with a tint of red coating her cheeks, “I may be a Blackwood now, but I am still your princess.” 

Ben walked towards her and placed himself behind the highchair she was in. His arms moved forward to wrap around her chest and he leaned down to be at level with her head. He looked at her reflection in the mirror and left a long searing kiss on her temple. 

“Always,” He muttered with his lips brushing her skin. Daenys pulled down a pin that released a few braids. Ben unwrapped his arms around her and began to cart his fingers through her hair, aiding in the process. They silently and meticulously worked on her hair until it was free. The tresses fell down and over her shoulders and back. 

Ben brushed her shoulder and kissed the back of her hair. His movements had been slow and calculated, but they gradually became more needy as Daenys got out of her chair. She kept her back to him and gathered all her hair to rest on her left shoulder. Ben saw the tied lacing of her dress and proceeded to untie it. His fingers brushed delicately over the skin of her back as the dress was opened. He went down lower and lower and heat pooled between Daenys’ legs. The dress fell down in a heap on the floor and all she was left in was an expensive silk shift from Essos. 

Her maids had giggled when presenting it to her that morning and she had not understood why they acted so bashful. It had a plunging neckline in both the front and back, ending midway down the torso. In all honestly, Daenys wondered why one would ever wear such a piece of clothing, as it failed to cover really anything and acted as more of a drapery on her form. However, when she turned to her husband and her could finally look at her, the reaction he had to the clothing made her understand why those maids giggled. 

His pupils were blown wide and his chest rose in heavy breaths. Ben had gazed up and down her body, tracing all of the features he could see. His hands reached out to pull her in by the waist, a gasp of surprise left Daenys’ lips but was quickly silenced by his lips. He kissed her softly but with a raging fire behind it. One hand kneaded the back of her head and pushed her against him. Her front was right against his chest, and she could feel her arousal intensify at the contact. The thin pieces of clothing between them felt like a mile of distance and she parted from him with intent to fix it. 

Ben looked at her with a longing unmatched, “Īlē vēttan ondoso se gods.” You were made by the gods. Daenys heard his breathless voice and had become shocked. His pronunciation had been forced and a little awkward, but the intent behind it made Daenys light up with fire. He had only ever said a word or two in High Valyrian - with immense difficulty - to her on occasion. This time, it appeared as though he had been secretly practicing.

“Ñuha gevie ābrazȳrys,” My beautiful wife. His words echoed. Daenys had no other recourse but to fling her body towards him and kiss him with a fevered passion. His lips tasted of the ale he had been drinking, and while not her choice of drink, the taste on him was irresistible. Her hands moved under and up his shirt to trace the muscles of his stomach. Ben let out a low growl at the contact. His hands gripped the bottom of her shift and pulled it over her head, exposing Daenys’ body. Ben halted for a moment and looked into her eyes. When Daenys gave him a nod, Ben moved to shrug off the last of his clothes. 

She settled on the edge of her bed and watched Ben discard his clothing on a nearby chair. Daenys eyes trailed up from his legs to his strong thighs and settled on his hardened cock. She swallowed the saliva that pooled in her mouth. Ben walked with a purpose towards her and encased her body with each arm resting on the plush blanket below her. His hands caressed the side of her bare thighs. 

His lips moved down to her neck, biting and sucking at the skin as he lowered himself to his knees on the stone floor. Ben’s teeth grazed her collarbone, eliciting a sigh from Daenys. One of his hands trailed up to cup her breast. He massaged the plush skin while his mouth trailed to the other. Daenys bit her lip while moans left her mouth. Her back arched to get closer to him. Ben began to trail down, but Daenys reached out and grabbed his shoulders. 

“No,” She sucked in a breath, “I need you now, please Ben.” Daenys had already had many excursions with Ben, and while she would never complain about the skill of his tongue, she had been waiting countless weeks to lay with him and had no intentions of waiting. 

“I need to get you ready.” Ben reasoned. 

Daenys shook her head and cradled his jaw with her hands, “I’m ready now,” she murmured. She could see the bump in his throat move as he swallowed down air. Ben’s hands moved up to grip her behind, lifting her body up and gently tossing her in the air and further up the bed. 

She squealed in delight at the seemingly renewed vigour and happiness painted across Ben’s face. He got on the bed and crawled to her. Daenys sat up and met him halfway and connected their lips. His body was encased between her legs. The two hummed in delight. In the heat of the moment, it was nothing but teeth and skin as they battled against one another. The floating feeling in her stomach intensified. 

Daenys pushed against him further and gripped his shoulders. She pushed him to the side so his back hit the covers. The smile on his face did not go away as he watched Daenys crawl on top of him. Her legs straddled his waist and Ben’s hands immediately gripped her waist, pushing in gently on the dips in her skin. He groaned as her core brushed against his cock. 

Daenys took notice and rocked her hips. Ben hissed loudly and his grip on her skin squeezed down in response. She proceeded to move more, each rock making them both more eager. When Ben bucked up to meet her more, Daenys lifted herself up and away, forcing a whine of complaint to erupt from Ben’s throat. One of her hands rested on his chest to steady her movements and the other reached down to grasp his erection. She lined it up with her entrance, took a breath, and sank down slowly. She bit down on her lip and struggled to maintain steady breathing. The feeling of him, the stretching, made her dizzy. 

Ben seemed to have a similar reaction. His eyes closed at the feeling of her tightening around him. He reached up to pull Daenys down so he could kiss her again. He was muttering praises across her skin, but his voice was so strained and quiet that Daenys struggled to decipher them. 

Daenys struggled to adjust, but when the pain eased slightly and was taken over by pleasure, she wished to chase that feeling. She rose almost all the way and then sank again. 

“Oh, fuck,” Ben’s head moved back and hit the pillow. With his neck exposed, Daenys began to bite the flesh while rocking back and forth. She maintained a rhythmic pace. Ben’s hands moved to any area of her body that he could reach, caressing and gripping the flesh as he continued to whine, “Gods you feel so perfect. Just like that.” 

The slow pace that Daenys was going at had placated Ben but gradually began to wear off. He began to get more needy, begging for her to go faster. Daenys smirked at how undone he had become. She believed he had fully submitted, but was surprised when he sat up and flipped them around. 

Now that he was above her, Ben began to rut at a brutal pace; chasing a high. He seemed lost in the throes of pleasure and Daenys got lost in it as well. With the new position, he reached a spot that made Daenys moan loudly and close her eyes. Her hands moved across his toned back and clawed at the skin, leaving red marks in their wake. Her actions only seemed to spur Ben on and he continued with his pace. 

“Ben… gods, faster, please,” Daenys felt a cold tear run down the hot skin of her face. Her breathing was ragged. Daenys wrapped her legs around his waist and became even more undone. She let out incoherent and lewd words, both in the common tongue and High Valyrian. Her brain had no concept of anything but the pleasure she was experiencing. Ben was marking her chest and neck, lost in the feeling of her nails against his skin and the clenching of her walls. 

Daenys felt the familiar build of pressure in her stomach and the tightening of her muscles. She began to meet his thrusts with her own, matching the pace he set. Her body began to tremble. 

“You’re taking me so well, love,” Ben grunted, “Fuck, just like that,” He lapped at her skin and his hands carted through her hair and tugged her head back so he could kiss her. His lips moved against hers in a fight. Her mouth opened to let his tongue explore her own. 

“I’m… I’m so close.” The coiling tension intensified. Daenys arms wrapped around his neck. She could focus on nothing but him. He lured her in like she was prey, and Daenys would gladly give her life to feel this. 

“I know, baby, I know, you’ve done so well. Come for me.” Ben’s words of encouragement seemed to snap Daenys’ resolve. Her walls clenched around his cock as she found her release. Her vision blacked slightly as her body convulsed under the feeling of fire coursing through her veins. It was white heat, mixed with the sharp piercing of cold. 

Her climax pushed Ben over the edge and he groaned loudly with his face between her breasts. The vibrations from his voice rumbled through her chest. He gave one last powerful thrust before reaching his end. His chest rose and fell with strangled breaths as he stilled. Daenys could feel his cum coat her walls and pushed forward to chase that feeling. Ben collapsed on top of her, their hot skin connecting. 

The two did not move for a few moments. Each working to catch themselves. Ben moved to kiss Daenys, but his movements were languid like he was drunk. When they connected, the two both moaned at the contact. Ben moved out of her and tumbled down to her side. The loss of being filled with him was not something she wished to experience often. Daenys was on her back staring at the ceiling and watched the candlelight flicker against the stone. Benjicot’s arms wrapped around her torso and pulled her against him. 

Daenys turned her head to look in his eyes. He already had his gaze trained on her. He was on his side to face her and one of his hands reached up to brush her cheek. 

“I love you,” He murmured. Daenys gave him a soft smile and leaned forward to kiss him. 

“Avy jorrāelan,” I love you. She replied. Ben nodded at her words. They lay there, bodies sweaty and minds addled on pleasure. 

Daenys felt satisfaction, but not just regarding their actions. They were finally married. She had waited weeks, counted the days, and spent every free moment with him in preparation for the ceremony. Now that it was over with, she felt her days open to be spent with her husband. Husband. The word repeated over and over in her mind like a drum. 

She twisted her body so her head could rest buried in Ben’s strong chest. She inhaled lightly and sighed. His hands moved up and down her arm and back, rubbing calming motions on the skin. He traced random patterns as the two spent time in peace. Each slowly recovered from their activities. 

Ben used a hand to move her chin up to look at him. He leaned down and captured her lips in a searing kiss. Her lips parted to let him run his tongue along her teeth. Benjicot adjusted his body to slowly move over hers again and their kissing got rougher. 

Daenys’ heart skipped at his eagerness and knew that their night was not over yet.

___________

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[oh-saints]

sweetest devotion (p.8)

they did start this whole circus with a marriage of conveniences. little did mason and serena know was how convenient they had become during this marriage…

playboy!mason mount x princess!OC wc: 3.5k tw:  only as warned under masterlist but none for this chapter, except for a long read ahead! note: I am deeply apologetic for delaying this for far too long, but a virus came into me and almost paralysed me. but an excuse is an excuse, and a promise is a promise so here you go! the long-awaited chapter for our favourite star-crossed couple and I hope this made up for all the times you miss mason x serena. but as usual, I happen to have inspirations whenever dawn is approaching so this is not proof-read yet! tags: @pingyu-in-wonderland @808heartz @ironmaiden1313 @myreveriie @kathb59 (let me know if you want to be added!) < part 7 here - part 9 TBA (hopefully within the next 2 weeks) sweetest devotion masterlist

if, when mason decided to step on the throttle and married serena earlier this year, any of you shot mason in the head with the fact that mason would get along very well with serena on the last trimester of her pregnancy, mason would spit in your face. without a doubt, without hesitation.

“i need your help,”

such simplistic sentence was not supposed to do any harm to mason’s body, but it did—it always does, without his consent—and the footballer had to regulate his breathing to conceal the devastating effect serena effortlessly brought upon him.

being amicable with serena was never in his bingo cards. let alone this.

mason mount was only supposed to partake his share of responsibility towards his own child. the fact that he might be able to save serena from an impending death sentence, should she be discovered with a child out of wedlock, was a bonus.

naturally, with that in mind and a divorce at the end of the deal, he didn’t expect to be more than co-parenting partners at best.

“what is it?”

but now, he could only count his blessing amongst the stars, for no one had shot him with such incredulous prediction of his future, so mason didn’t have to apologize to anyone for having spat on their face. because mason and serena was co-habitating even better than expected, way much better than even the both of them would like to admit.

“i can’t reach for the pan.”

mason laughed a genuine one, the warmth replacing the initial electric shock. serena frowned a deeper pout, adding more heat all over mason’s body despite firing up the furnace earlier, resulting mason to plaster a wide smile still on his face as he did what he was instructed. “there you go, princess.”

they weren’t supposed to fall into this—whatever “this” might be. the sense of familiarity, comfort… all mixed up in one unknown territory they didn’t want to explore but know well enough that they had plunged themselves in.

as much as they denied themselves from the reality, though, they had indeed deviated from their own terms of being amicable. they had certainly gotten themselves more comfortable around each other than intended; it was as if they had found the rhythm on their feet and had fallen together into a song to dance together. serena cooks, mason grocery-shops. mason drives everywhere, serena massages him before they retreat to their respective bedroom. mason plays a home game, serena watches from the family box. serena has a foot aching or swollen, mason is ready with a warm-water footbath. serena catches an occasional or residual morning sickness, mason knows where the ginger crackers are. mason talks, serena listens.

what a contrary to the so-called first dance they displayed for the rest of the world to believe. back then, serena was lucky to not have stepped on mason’s tom ford shoes, and mason was saved from critics highlighting his luckster steps ripping off the train of serena’s reception gown. that night, serena decided it might actually be better to have god save the princess instead as an alternate title to eldorran national anthem.

but despite the level of this newfound friendliness established between the two of them, there was still an enormous elephant in the room.

where are they in this relationship?

that is, if there was ever a sufficient word to describe their relationship. yes, they were married but are they a couple? if not, were they friends or were they just roommates?

mason would like to think the first one—for him, roommates were simply acquittances that could care less about other person’s whereabouts, and surely with the extent they had gone through together wasn’t merely hi, how are you? basis—but more often than not, serena did make him feel the reality was that mason was indeed still walking around the eggshells.

there were times when serena made him feel he was one step forward, two steps backwards. for example; while mason was more than happy to be labelled the yapping boyfriend per today’s standard of couple compatibility, serena was, in nature, a reserved person who speaks only when deemed necessary, so to have her sharing bits of her life while he was away for work could be seen as making a wide stride of progress. but in comparison to the earlier times when their communication was rather limited to texts—or rather, mason had limited their interaction—serena was far more welcoming then, in a sense that she was willing to inform him where she was going and whatnot when they were still practically strangers.

case two was, unfortunately, the most ironic of all.

mason and serena had made a habit to retreat to the living room after dinner, for whatever reason. be it simply watching the latest movie they didn’t have the chance to catch up, be it mason gaming while serena continued her journaling, be it serena accompanying mason while he was up to review the approach of an upcoming game, be it to have a light discussion about nursery, the upcoming doctor’s visit.

bottom line, the living room had turned into a shared premise for them, yet serena had never once invited mason over to her mini piano recital.

you might wonder why was mason upset over such a small—meaningless even for some—matter. but when your housemate bid you farewell for the night, only to sneak up the owner of the house later into the night to use the grand piano by the stairs—courtesy to his interior designer, who decided it’d be a nice sentimental touch to contrast the masculine theme of his house—it posed so many questions. not to mention, serena was annihilating the keys, madly punching the notes like she was screaming, very much unfit to the elegant divinire by Ludovico Einaudi.

mason had to give it to serena, though, for choosing this road. because others—most of the population, really—would only think she’s blessed with a musical talent, playing the black-and-white keys as if glue was stuck on the pads of her fingers, when in reality she was anything but destroying the classical piece.

layered with complexity, exactly like serena in person.

the next morning, mason woke up with a full determination to confront serena about it. only to be greeted by a sight of her mildly swollen eyes—mason might not be the brightest kid at school but her sisters made sure he was the top of class in the subject of “women 101”—so he’d forego whatever words about to be spilled on the tip of his tongue.  

but later, mason realised, he was glad he never made it known that he’d overheard her stellar performance. another night she’d sit down on the giant musical instrument and played a beautiful piece mason recognized from the black swan, yet it was mesmerizing for all the wrong reason. he remembered she’d gotten a call earlier from a palace, and her face expression had become sombre a bit, probably due to whatever the palace was saying.

he concluded that it had moulded into a pattern of habit whenever she was having a bad day—a way to let out her frustration. so mason stayed put, afraid he’d only distract serena. or worse, destroying her concentration flow. she worked hard to conceptualize this whole recital anyway, why should he ruin it?

other times when this happened, he’d sat on top of the stairs, hidden behind the nearest wall, as the princess took over the grandiose piano. and he had never recalled any other time when he failed to show up whenever she played her version of rendition to a modern classic piece because he knew it was serena’s only outlet to be herself. full of hidden angers and oppressed opinions, unable to express the way she truly feels because of all the royal restriction. in a way, he wanted to be there for her—good days, bad days, every day.

what a regal way to do so, whilst mason was the type to punch away the sandbag at the gym.

still, if her outmost genuine concern was not to disturb mason, and thus the midnight choice of time, she was certainly wrong. if serena thought mason would miss the elegant tunes flowing as the production result of her dainty fingers dancing on those black-and-white keys, she was certainly over-confident. mason might not be the mozart prodigy but he knows when one is supposed to depict sadness and anything alike.

but why would she conceal something as beautiful as that?

on another take, if she indeed didn’t want mason to know her habit: why? or was that why the notes she’d play was always heart-wrenchingly beautiful? because she didn’t want mason to hear anything whatever she had to say without words? because she didn’t want mason to know her deepest, most hidden secret that she was never happy here in the first place, no matter how hard mason had been trying to provide everything in this earthly realm in order to make her happier and healthier?

why didn’t she say anything, about anything at all really? in whatever relationship is—friendship, kinship—it always takes two to tango. and right now, serena was an even worse dance partner than their reception night.

just until when were they going to tango around the room, spinning endlessly?

“that was one hell of a performance.”

serena visibly jumped on her seat behind the piano, her eyes immediately looked for the source of sound. “mason,” she remained still, as she watched mason coming nearing her position. “do i wake you up?”

“no, i was only falling asleep when you started,”

“oh, no, i apologize—”

“no, no, no, i always like it whenever you play,” realising the slip of tongue that this was not the first time he’d heard her, mason might as well let out the remaining of the truth. “i like how you look when you play. free—of pressure, of opinions, of judgement… of the world, really. nothing else but you.”

there was a flash of surprise and fear. an equivalence of deer in the headlight in royal etiquette, mason presumed, before she turned away her head. “sounds like a selfish person to me.”

“if you’re a selfish person then you would’ve aborted our son the first moment you found out about him,” the speed of mason’s retaliation took serena by surprise. “but you didn’t. and that’s what i like about you, too.”

the amount of the word like coming out of mason’s mouth was seriously concerning serena. they were not supposed to like each other—amicable was what they agreed upon in the first place, given the situation and condition.

“can’t sleep?”

serena shook her head in response to mason’s question while her fingers reached for the cover of the piano, wanting to shut the lid and took her leave.

her intention had to be cancelled as mason took his spot beside her. “how are you feeling about tomorrow?”

ah, yes. the day she had been dreading.

tomorrow was the day serena had to fly back to eldorra, for her oldest brother’s wedding and her father’s abdication. the festivities wasn’t supposed to kick off until 5 days later, but serena had decided to fly in earlier because she thought she needed time to adjust back to the nitty-gritties of royal etiquettes, protocol and other royal affairs. it was a reasonable justification, both in the eyes of the palace and mason, considering she’d been away from the princess lifestyle for rather a while now, technically alone in London and bereft of any relatives but mason, both from his side of the family and especially hers.

in all honesty, serena was content with her life here, away from the spotlight and the pressure of a royal member. it was rather a life she’d been wishing to have since she was teenager. contrary to her image and popular belief that she was the friendliest member of the eldorran royal family, she wasn’t as good at mingling with any figure connected with power, politics and whatnot as she was mingling with her people.

an entire sequence of traditions was coming her way—for a wedding, abdication and coronation—so the level of social anxiety was guaranteed skyrocketing. this would mean mingling, meaningless chitchats, keeping two-faces intact, answering intruding questions, addressing false allegations, greeting and faking smiles to gold-digger spouses and so-called socialites FOR DAYS. good lord in heavens, please give me enough strengths to truck the atrocious days alone.

“are you sure you are not coming, mason?”

ah, yes. the breaking news, so shocking it headlined the eldorran gossip channels and tv programs for a week straight.

mason’s professional commitments required him to fly with his football club for an important match for several days, which coincidentally happened to fall during the series of pre-events leading to the wedding day of her brother. his attendance on the wedding day itself, the abdication and the coronation remained hanging for the public to guess—but they knew better.

the king, serena’s father, still harboured an ill feeling towards his only son-in-law. … mason didn’t even protest on that, given it was the prerogative of the king anyway, but her father made it well-known from their very first meeting in chelsea’s training ground that they’d never have a particular in-laws normalcy. mason remembered it very well, for he’d never been in the presence of a great power and authority flowing throughout the room that he’d wavered a little behind the mask he displayed.

mason flashed serena a bitter smile. “you know the answer to that, princess.”

“there is an answer to that, too, mason,” serena said, offering mason a slight grasp over his hand. “we can always use this special card of ours.”

the sight of serena looking down at her protruding belly, now unable to be hidden under various designs and styling, as her free hand stroking the ball of sunshine, never failed to warm mason’s entire body and soul. he would always feel warm and giddy, and proud and glad serena and their son was doing well each and every day, despite the rocky start.

“i’ll miss that when you’re away. you, playing the piano,” while another hand stroked gently over serena’s stomach, mason turned his occupied palm around to grip hers tightly, interlacing their fingers for the first time in forever. “i’ll miss this, too.”

“well—”

“i’ll miss you.”

what they had was orthodoxically special, indeed.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

the house feels empty

serena didn’t know the exact time and place where this all had begun, the random texts. the timeline had become blurry since they had progressed into a friendlier terms, coming from a chain of texts that was similar to the ones shared between the owner of a house and its renter. but it had indeed become something she looked forward to during the day, a glimpse of how his day went so far—ben snores so much it hurts my ears; azpi’s so irritating in training today; or such. it filled a small space in her heart, longing for a dear friend.

but since the i’ll miss you happened, serena would be lying if she didn’t think that mason’s words were laced with something else. something beyond friendship, something she was afraid to find out, something she’d like to think non-existent so they could continue their beneficial partnership until their son was born.

in case you forget, your sound system is top notch.

act calm as usual, the head of royal etiquette always reminded her in cases where she faced a micro crisis. thus, her reply just now. she’d slip in a banter or two whenever mason sent her any text of grumbles, complaints, grunts on a usual basis.

as calm as she was, serena had to place a hand over her chest, exactly on top of her beating heart that was running rather irregularly now, while her other hand was busy slipping her phone discreetly back to her meticulously customised purse and her attention back to the ongoing discussion between two young heirs in front of her.

but of course, when she felt her phone vibrated again not long after sending her reply, serena couldn’t help but to succumb to temptation. she retreated to the corner of the room and hands were immediately reaching for the electronic device.

it’s still not the same you’re not here

for a full ten seconds, serena remained a statue. the only sign she was alive was the wide grin plastered across her face that the princess herself didn’t realise was there to begin with.

ah, shame we’re miles apart then.

it didn’t take a minute before another bubble popped up.

what if I tell you we’re no longer apart?

serena’s heart jumped from its long hibernation—she’d successfully managed to sedate them into a peaceful sleep during her time training again her old motoric as a royal princess—but she tried very hard to mask the stallion pace it was giving.

because in all honesty, serena would be lying if she didn’t wish mason was here by her side. the last state banquet she attended with mason a while back was enough of a proof that having an ally was better than no one at all. even when they weren’t exactly in the best term back then, and apart from the fact that he was only there to fulfil his end of deal.

should she mention the immense assurance she felt whenever mason’s hands were on her back, placed strategically to guide her through the maze of people wanting to formally greet her, or whenever mason’s hands were extended to reach her waist protectively while one or two people were ready to step on her feet?

alas, hope is a very powerful weapon and she’d wish not to yield it. not towards mason, at least. but before she could type out her reply to his text, her phone beeped once more and another blue bubble had popped up on her screen.

look around.

despite the early internal battle, serena did as she was told. and there he was, mason mount, looking dapper as ever with a complete, tailored suit like every other man in this ballroom—which should mean by fellow aristocrats, socialites, political figures amongst others. maybe mason was even more dashing than the rest of them because good god, his smiles as he greeted every one he met along the way down to reach serena…

it was polite but full of implied sneer, it was handsomely irritating somehow. it was captivatingly powerful too on the other hand, enough to put all the gossip and rumours spread by the palace down. it was a plain challenge to the king’s authority that didn’t allow him to be here in the first place without giving away too much insider information away.

“hello, there,” the multimillion-watt smile wasn’t wavering anytime soon, serena inferred, as he finally stopped his steps in front of her. now that he stood so close to her, she could see a thousand layers of emotion unravelling, but one thing struck more than other: he was very happy, with a bit of relief, that he was here. and that was enough of a reason for serena to reciprocate his—somehow, unbeknowingly—wider grin because she, in fact, shared the same sentiment.

for the first time in her life, despite being trained to stand up for herself diplomatically so, serena thermapolis was beyond elated to have found a true ally in this room full of fake courtesies, and that ally was her husband, no less. her stunning husband, fawned by several ladies in the background, whom she had grown more than fond of, with or without her acknowledgement, was here and that was all that mattered.

and the awful part was mason didn’t know what he did just obliterated her poor heart and rendered her speechless.

“you look like you could use a company. may i join you this evening?”

[kyisweird]

just thought of an aridante headcanon on a whim

when gay marriage was legalized aristotle and dante had decided to finally get married. why not i mean, they had thought of themselves as a married couple for years now and besides they thought it was something they need to do not just for themselves but for everyone they had known growing up who didn't live to the day. when their wedding day came it happened at ari's favorite spot in the desert. it wasn't a very large wedding but it was small either, it was attended by all their closest friends and family and that's all that they needed. during the reception a small storm had rolled and it started to rain. this didn't matter to ari and dante though, they just kicked off their shoes and started to dance. dante had encouraged all of the guests to join in and do the same and they did. with the sunset pearing through the clouds, the now cool earth beneath their feet, and the feeling of love that surrounded them aristotle and dante had never felt more connected than in this moment.

[gimmethatagustd]

take what's yours | pjm + jjk

To secure his rightful place as next in line to the throne, Jimin must marry the neighboring kingdom's youngest heir, Jungkook. Jimin is prepared for his kingdom's invasive marriage traditions, including the need to prove that the marriage has been consummated. Unfortunately, Jungkook is not.

○ Pairing: Prince!Jimin x Prince!Jungkook

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: Pistilverse, royalty, arranged marriage, strangers to lovers, vaguely historical, angst, smut, (fluff?)

○ 5 / 100 Drabble Challenge (Pistilverse)

○ Word Count: 3,660

○ Warnings: This is literally just emotional smut, Stamen!Jimin x Pistil!Jungkook, it's like fuck or die but instead of death they'd both be exiled from their communities RIP, loss of virginity, anal fingering, anal sex, crying during sex, it's actually very soft

○ Notes: Hello I'm back again with more Pistilverse 😌 and a drabble that's too long, of course. This is my brand atp. As usual, I added a glossary to the end of this post for those of you who are unfamiliar with the concept~

○ Post Date: January 18, 2024

○ Masterlist | Send me ur thots

○ What was Jai listening to? DIE 4 YOU - DEAN

Jungkook runs his fingertips along the edge of the mahogany desk in Jimin’s chambers, opposite the large bed where Jungkook’s night dressings lie out for him. The clothes are made of sheer white lace like a fisherman’s net meant to snatch him and string him up on a line to be picked at. He took one look at them and was overcome with a panic so severe that he felt as though he couldn’t breathe.

The thick leather-bound books and messy parchment scattered across Jimin’s mahogany desk call to Jungkook, though even the friendly book spines and elegant ink scrawls pierce Jungkook’s heaving lungs.

A marriage of alliance.

The words stare at him, inked in his father’s handwriting many moons ago, in a letter addressed to the king whose land meets the sea and whose stamen son was said to be more beautiful than anyone in the seven kingdoms combined.

They were right, the rumors.

Not once has Jungkook dared look Jimin in the eyes, too consumed with embarrassment and fear. If asked, the poor prince wouldn’t be able to recount a single detail of his wedding ceremony other than the little pieces of gold that adorned his and Jimin’s shoes, for his eyes never lifted from the floor all day.

“Prince Jungkook,” a voice calls from the bedroom’s entrance.

Snatching his hand back, Jungkook spins around to meet the stern gaze of a stamen guard, one of many he has seen stationed around the palace. This one is different than the guards who escorted Jungkook to Jimin’s bedroom after the last wedding guest left for the night. 

Jungkook’s stomach rumbles as if reminding him that he should regret not eating during the reception. Nerves still twist Jungkook’s insides too tightly to force food into his system.

“Yes?” Jungkook asks, hardly able to raise his voice above a whisper.

“You must be examined for marks before changing for our Highness.” As he speaks, there’s a mean shine to the guard’s eyes, something dark that makes fear unfurl in Jungkook’s chest.

“I have already done the examination,” Jungkook explains. He shuffles backward, taking small half-steps that he hopes aren’t noticeable to the guard. “It was part of the marriage stipulations, that I arrive to the Prince unblemished. And I have.”

“That examination occurred many days ago.”

Jungkook can’t hold back the look of disgust that muddles his soft features. “Are you insinuating that I would… defile myself mere days before I am to be wed?”

Anger flashes across the previously stoic guard’s face. As Jungkook’s waist hits the desk, preventing him from moving any further from the guard, he wonders if it’s appropriate for the guard to speak to his new prince or if this kingdom’s people genuinely hate him as much as he feared they would.

“You mountain dwellers are not known for your honesty,” the guard sneers. He steps toward Jungkook, posed to grab him when the bedroom’s double doors fling out.

Even in his night clothes, Prince Jimin is ethereal. Fire dances in his eyes from the many candles decorating the room, casting shadows on the downturn of his mouth. His white robe flutters behind him as he advances on the guard like one of God’s angels on the Day of Reckoning.

Something is terrifying about an unarmed man willing to move aggressively toward one who has a sword hanging on his hip. Does Jimin own a sword? Jungkook assumes so as a prince. Then again, Jungkook was never taught to use one himself.

“Sochun,” Jimin crowds the guard, his jaw pulled taunt and sharp enough to cut, “Get out of my sight before I have you stripped before the court.”

Jungkook watches with his trembling hands clasped behind his back as the stamen guard rolls his shoulders. Sochun steps into the hall with the little dignity he has left, slamming it shut behind him. Jungkook doesn’t exhale until Jimin bolts the doors.

Instinctually, Jungkook flinches when Jimin turns toward him.

“Did he touch you?” Jimin asks softly, the anger in his face settling into something gentler. If Jungkook were naive, he would think Jimin cared.

“No.”

“Good,” Jimin nods, his gaze never leaving Jungkook’s face despite Jungkook’s wish that he would look away. “If anyone ever touches you, you must tell me. Immediately.”

Jungkook takes a deep breath and whispers, “Yes, Prince Jimin.”

“Please, no need for titles. We are wed, Jungkook. It is silly to use such words in the privacy of our bedroom.”

We.

Our.

Jungkook doesn’t want to be a we or an our with Jimin.

Leaning against the desk, Jungkook isn’t sure how to respond. He supposes there’s nothing to respond to; he has no say in this. His father made that abundantly clear, as did the rest of the sea kingdom’s court. It will be long before Jungkook becomes accustomed to the contempt in the King’s eyes when he looks at him.

Jungkook may have been used for an alliance that promises his safety, but it certainly doesn’t promise kindness.

“You haven’t changed.” Jimin holds the silk pajamas. He lets the fabric slip through his fingers, gliding between his hands like water. “You must be uncomfortable in those ceremonial clothes.”

It’s true; the robes are uncomfortable. The fabric is heavy and scratchy. Since the wedding was abrupt, the seamstresses didn’t have time to tailor the clothing to Jungkook’s body appropriately. It sits on his shoulders oddly and makes him feel smaller than he is.

But taking them off would mean accepting the inevitable, and Jungkook isn’t ready.

“I'll turn around?” A small smile curves Jimin’s plump lips. Jungkook only has a moment to appreciate the playful look before Jimin spins around to face the opposite side of the room.

For a moment, Jungkook doesn’t move. Jimin must know because he chuckles lightly and taps his fingers against his thighs.

“I swear I will not peek, Jungkook-ah.”

Quickly, Jungkook snatches the clothing from the bed and works on undoing the ridiculous number of buttons and little clasps keeping his ceremonial clothing together. A little voice inside his head reminds him that it doesn’t matter if Jimin peeks; Jungkook is putting these clothes on only for Jimin to remove them whenever he pleases. And then, once they have consummated their marriage, Jungkook will have to show the royal court Jimin’s flower adorning his body.

It upsets Jungkook, knowing something so personal will be taken from him and made public — not to mention how embarrassing it will be for everyone to know that they had sex.

“I’m done,” Jungkook states simply once his ceremonial clothing is folded and placed atop the trunk in the corner of the room. He hasn’t had the chance to unpack. It feels strange to think that his personal items must be placed amongst those of a stranger.

Jimin’s dark eyes sweep over Jungkook’s body much like the guard’s had, but his gaze isn’t as intimidating as Jungkook once thought. Jimin has kind eyes like he’s appraising Jungkook to make sure he’s comfortable, rather than ogle his body — even though he could. 

Without needing to see a reflection of himself, Jungkook knows he looks good, the sheer material leaving little to the imagination while cloaking him in something soft and alluring. A mystery within arm’s reach.

“May I help you remove your jewelry? It’ll get in the way, and you’ll want to keep it nice,” Jimin offers.

Turning around, Jungkook stands rigid at the end of the bed as Jimin approaches him from behind.

“I wish you to know that I am sorry,” Jimin’s breath tickles the back of Jungkook’s neck just like his fingers do as he unclasps the gold necklace. “It may seem as though none of this bothers me, but I have spent my entire life preparing for this day. You… you have not, and for that, I am sorry.”

“You frighten me,” Jungkook whispers once Jimin has stepped back, putting distance between them again.

“I know.”

“I’ve never done this before.”

Jimin knows this; they all know this. If Jungkook wasn’t a virgin, the flowers of the stamens he’d slept with would be scattered across the beautiful marking of tree branches that creep up his spine like a snake with dozens of heads. But Jungkook is a virgin pistil, so his tree is barren, unmarked, and unblemished. Fit for the grand prince, the heir to the throne, who deserves nothing less than an innocent virgin.

“I have,” Jimin admits freely. He sits on the edge of the bed. Jungkook tries not to look at the thick thighs revealed when his silk shorts ride up. “Are you disappointed?”

Is there a correct answer? Jungkook isn’t sure. He frowns and stares down at the fluffy blanket tucked around the mattress.

“There are other pistils with the Prince’s flower adorning their bodies?” The question is polite but judgmental.

Rather than be upset, Jimin tosses his head back with laughter. It’s giddy, almost giggly, and nothing like the harsh prince Jungkook was taught to assume Jimin was.

“I have enjoyed time with other stamens,” Jimin explains with an amused smile. He leans back on his palms so he can look up at Jungkook. “Thus, no gold roses to worry about leaving behind.”

Despite himself, Jungkook looks over Jimin’s body, suddenly wondering where his pretty flower marking may be. Perhaps the gold rose is on his ribs or his chest? Jungkook’s gaze drops lower, and he lets himself wonder if it’s on the soft inside of his thigh.

“Are you curious?”

Blushing, Jungkook looks away. “I suppose there is no use in being curious if I’m to find out…”

Taking Jungkook’s hand, Jimin gently coaxes him to stand between Jimin's knees at the edge of the bed. Everything about Jimin is gentle, even when his tone is painted with playfulness, and his eyes sparkle with mischief. Jungkook finds those qualities comforting and must remind himself that Jimin has no say in this, either. They are both bound to each other by force. 

Jimin could be rough with him and demand that Jungkook submit to his will because this is his kingdom, and Jungkook is merely a pawn in a twisted political game. Instead, Jimin touches Jungkook kindly. He runs his fingers along Jungkook’s jaw and tickles the underside of his chin until Jungkook has to duck his head in embarrassment.

“I want this to be enjoyable for you, as much as it can be,” Jimin lifts Jungkook’s chin so they can stare into each other’s eyes again. “And after tonight, if you wish to never speak to me again, I will respect that. I can get you your own wing of the palace and your own servants. Whatever it is that you desire, I will make it happen for you, okay?”

Such thoughtfulness is nearly too much for Jungkook to comprehend. How is it possible for Jimin to be this kind? Should Jungkook even trust him?

Breath caught in his throat, Jungkook only nods. Despite how quiet Jungkook is, Jimin seems to understand him. He gives Jungkook a small smile and hesitantly places his hands on Jungkook’s waist.

“Would you feel more comfortable if you kept your robe on?”

Jungkook hadn’t thought much about this moment, too afraid of giving himself to a stranger to want to consider what it would be like.

“I don’t know what I like. I won’t do well,” Jungkook admits, shame burning his cheeks. He was required to keep himself pure, but knowing Jimin has experience makes Jungkook feel inadequate.

“I will guide you.” Jimin squeezes Jungkook’s waist and pulls him closer. He tilts his head back to look up at him. “You are gorgeous, Jungkook-ah. You’re already more pleasing to me than you can imagine.”

“Oh, well…” The look in his eyes makes Jungkook’s stomach flip. “Okay.”

With a light chuckle, Jimin reaches up to run his thumb along Jungkook’s bottom lip. He hums in satisfaction when Jungkook licks his lips after, the tip of his tongue brushing against Jimin’s thumb.

“Have you been kissed, Jungkook-ah?”

Jungkook shakes his head.

“Will you sit with me so I may kiss you?”

With butterflies in his stomach and a heart on the verge of cardiac arrest, Jungkook slowly gets on the bed with his legs crossed to face Jimin. He always imagined his first kiss would be sweet and soft, something innocent with someone he loves and who loves him. Most of those things aren’t true now, but there’s no denying that Jimin is soft as he cradles Jungkook’s face and presses his lips to Jungkook’s.

What is a chaste kiss quickly deepens and becomes more passionate, Jimin showing Jungkook how to suck and bite bottom lips and wrestle tongues. 

Jungkook feels heat spread through his limbs. He grabs Jimin’s robe and squeezes the fabric in his fist to steady himself when he begins to tremble.

“Are you alright?” Jimin asks against Jungkook’s lips.

“Can’t breathe,” Jungkook gasps as Jimin slowly guides him flat on his back.

He sinks into the fluffy blanket and stares wide-eyed at Jimin, who hovers over him, his legs spreading Jungkook’s thighs open and his hands pressed on either side of Jungkook’s head.

Jimin runs his fingers down Jungkook’s torso, flicking the folds of his robe to the side to expose the smooth skin underneath. The tips of tree branches creep around Jungkook’s sides, and Jimin’s hand slips beneath his robe to trace what part of his tree he can see. The light touches make Jungkook suck his stomach in as he tries not to squirm.

“You’re very pretty.”

People have told Jungkook this before, but it feels different coming from Jimin. Perhaps it’s because Jimin is commenting on his naked body, not just his face or how stylish he looks in fine clothes.

“Thank you,” is what Jungkook assumes is the proper response. It makes Jimin laugh, though he doesn’t know why.

“Can I touch you, here?” Jimin’s fingers play at Jungkook’s hipbone.

Too embarrassed to look down where he’s already half-hard just from a bit of kissing, Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut and consents with a whimpery whisper.

“This part of you is pretty, too.” Jimin’s voice deepens, sounding rougher than it had. Jungkook feels his cock twitch in his hand when Jimin squeezes it, swiping his thumb along the head to smear the wetness there.

This time, Jungkook can’t thank him. He’s too overwhelmed by the pleasure of having someone else touch him where even Jungkook rarely touches.

“I’m going to get lubricant, okay?”

A gentle kiss on Jungkook’s abdomen makes his eyes fly open. When they adjust to the dim lighting, he sees Jimin reach for an ornate bottle on a shelf near the bed. He has shed his silk shorts and robe and is now fully naked. It makes Jungkook’s cheeks heat up to compare Jimin’s nakedness to the half-dressed state Jungkook is in.

Now that Jungkook can look at Jimin properly, he notices the cluster of gold roses decorating Jimin’s ribs on his right side. They're a delicate contrast to the dark tattoos scattered all over Jimin’s body, most words in the language of his people— one Jungkook is unfamiliar with. The gold roses are pretty, and Jungkook finds a tiny part of himself giddy at the knowledge that he’ll soon have those gold roses on his body, too.

“Do you like them?” Jimin asks with a cheeky grin, having noticed Jungkook staring.

Unable to lie, Jungkook merely nods.

“They’re pretty.”

Jungkook’s heart feels like it will break his ribs as Jimin returns to kneel between his legs. A virgin, yes, but Jungkook knows what the lubricant is for.

“Talk to me, Jungkook-ah. Tell me what you’re thinking,” Jimin asks with a firm hand slipped under the small of Jungkook’s back to lift his hips. 

Jungkook lets him slide a small pillow beneath him and realizes he’s likely making this difficult for Jimin if he’s not actively participating in what they’re about to do.

“I’m nervous,” Jungkook admits, searching for the words to explain how he feels while Jimin pours the lubricant on his fingers. “And I don’t know what to do. I want to do well, but I don’t… I don’t know.”

Holding the back of Jungkook’s thigh, Jimin pushes one of his legs up slightly, giving him more room to reach between his thighs.

“You don’t need to do anything,” Jimin says softly as he rubs Jungkook’s rim. When Jungkook jerks away, Jimin waits a moment before touching him again, slower this time. “I’ll take care of you.”

“Ookay,” Jungkook lets out a deep sigh when Jimin presses his finger past his rim.

It feels strange but not terrible. Jungkook finds it easy to relax his body as Jimin adds a second finger, and then a third, because he has been given permission to not worry about performing well or pleasing Jimin. It seems that Jimin is perfectly fine working his fingers inside Jungkook, massaging his walls and finding a spot where he rubs until Jungkook’s leg kicks uncontrollably, and Jungkook feels like he may die.

“Tell me if it hurts,” Jimin whispers against Jungkook’s throat as he trails kisses down his torso to distract from the press of his cock against his rim once Jungkook is stretched enough.

Jungkook thought it would be unbearable, but Jimin’s kindness makes up for the momentary pain. He wraps his arms around Jimin’s shoulders when Jimin leans down to kiss him. The fit is tight; Jimin is only halfway in, and Jungkook already struggles not to tense his body.

“You were so worried, my prince, but you’re doing well,” Jimin sucks a little mark at the corner of Jungkook’s jaw and doesn’t complain when Jungkook digs his nails into his back. “Just a little more.”

When Jimin bottoms out, Jungkook locks his legs around his hips to keep him in place. The feeling is almost too much, too full and foreign.

“Can you wait, please?” Jungkook’s voice cracks as fat tears slip down his rosy cheeks. 

He does his best not to hiccup or heave into Jimin’s neck, just keeps his eyes squeezed shut and pants with a stuffy nose and a headache blooming in the middle of his forehead. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Jungkook was supposed to fall in love.

“Jungkook-ah,” Jimin calls to him. He swipes his thumbs across Jungkook’s cheeks, wiping away his tears as best he can. “Have I hurt you?”

“No, it feels good. That’s not,” Jungkook pauses as a sob rips through him, “That’s not why I’m crying. I just, I didn’t think this would happen to me like this.”

“Oh, baby,” Jimin wraps his arms around Jungkook and holds him tightly against his body. The movement makes his cock press against Jungkook’s prostate, and Jungkook moans through his tears, which makes him cry even more.

“I’m sorry I’m crying,” he sniffles once his body feels as though it’s run out. “It isn’t your fault. If anything, I am thankful it was you. Others wouldn’t be so kind to me. I don’t understand why you are so kind.”

With a long sigh, Jimin nuzzles his face into the crook of Jungkook’s neck. They both smell of sweat and sex, but it’s comforting to have Jimin close, a warm, solid body to hold onto.

“You deserve kindness, Jungkook. It is the very least I can provide you.”

Jungkook knows Jimin is right, but he can’t sort through the feelings turning his brain to soup and making his heart flutter somewhere in his stomach. He and Jimin are both victims of royal duty.

“Thank you,” Jungkook says softly, turning his head to kiss Jimin’s temple.

“You do not need to thank me, my prince.” As simple as it is, the little nickname makes Jungkook feel warm. “Would you like to stop and try again in the morning?”

Right. Because they must do this before the court calls for them.

Taking a deep breath, Jungkook relaxes his body until he’s no longer squeezing Jimin so tightly.

“We can keep going. It was nice.”

“Okay. If you want to stop, tell me. We can go at your pace.”

Giving Jungkook a light peck on the lips, Jimin rolls his hips. The thrusts are slow and shallow, with just enough movement to get both of them adequately aroused again and for Jungkook’s body to grow accustomed to the stretch.

There are no declarations of love or screams of pleasure. Perhaps one day, Jungkook thinks, as he watches how beautiful Jimin looks as he thrusts into him. It feels good; Jungkook’s moans and whimpers are evidence of that, but it’s still strange for him to be doing this for the first time with someone he doesn’t know.

“You feel good, my prince,” Jimin murmurs in Jungkook’s ear, sending shivers down Jungkook’s spine.

“Go harder,” Jungkook moans, his fingers finding Jimin’s hair to twist.

“Fuck.”

It doesn’t take long before Jungkook feels the build-up of pleasure ready to snap and spill over. Unlike anything he’s felt before, it builds from inside him, shooting sparks of pleasure through his cock and in the pit of his stomach. He cries out, unsure how to get where he needs to be.

“Jimin,” he whimpers, “Jimin, Jimin.”

“It’s okay,” Jimin reaches between their bodies to jerk Jungkook’s cock, “Just breathe.”

Jimin cums right before Jungkook does. Jungkook feels it, not only inside of him but across his back, as Jimin’s gold roses bloom on his barren branches. The thought crosses his mind that he’ll look pretty in the morning with the mark of a royal prince on his body, proof that he has Jimin to care for him.

And, perhaps, love him.

When they come down from their highs, with rosy cheeks and bitten lips, Jungkook watches Jimin prepare a damp cloth to clean him of lube and cum, and he thinks perhaps one day he could love Jimin, too. 

GLOSSARY OF TERMS

(Borrowed from here and revised to fit my fic)

Pistilverse AU - A South Korean fanfic trope wherein almost all humans experience an “awakening” during puberty that assigns them into one of two botanically-inspired groups: Pistils and Stamens. These groups are denoted by marks on the person’s body, similar to tattoos.

Pistil and Stamens - Pistils develop a mark of a barren tree that appears along their spine after their awakening, while stamens develop a flower somewhere on their body after their awakening.

Awakening - The moment a flower or tree appears on a person’s body, signifying their status as a pistil or stamen. You could look at it as a coming-of-age moment in a person’s life. These are typically painful for pistils. A pistil might experience more than one awakening if their tree becomes too full of flowers.

Marks/Marking - When a pistil sleeps with a stamen, the stamen’s flower blooms on the pistil’s tree branches. The number of flowers a pistil has is proportional to that of the stamens they had sex with. In this fic, pistils with many flowers are considered promiscuous and experience slut shaming based on religion.

Marked - The term used to describe a pistil who has received a stamen’s flower on their body.

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories. 

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd​ - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). Request an AO3 account here. 

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