#wed fall fast but it would only last like a year or two

[bakvrue]

I wish I was deeply in love with a hq boy still

[hollowdeath]

I just wanna start with saying I think you’re an incredible writer. I found your work recently and can’t stop reading. The way you craft y/n and your storyline, ✨ CHEF’S KISS ✨ absolutely MAGNIFICENT. so that’s first lol before anything else.

I did have a request, if it’s up to your liking!!!! I was thinking of:

(After war)

All throughout their years at Hogwarts (as kind of a golden “quartet”) there was always that would they wouldn’t they vibe between Harry and y/n. They cared a little too much about each other, looked a little too long, got a little too cranky and involved when they dated others. They had quite the falling out after Harry and Ginny got more serious and y/n admitted her feelings and Harry said too late. Fast fwd, Harry and Ginny have since broken up and it’s Ron and Hermione’s wedding. Maybe somehow they get stuck together at the venue or cottage that was rented, somehow stuck before the wedding for hours, stuff goes down, whatever you think, feelings, sexy time, Harry shows her what she’s missed and they finally give in. So much angst, and dirtiness, and yeah 🤷🏽‍♀️ that’s all I got 😂

thank you so much for your request! this was so much fun to write! i hope you enjoy <3

pairing: harry james potter x fem!reader (18+)

summary: you and harry were each other's childhood crushes, but things never quite worked out between you two. years later ron & hermione devise a plan to get you to make up just before their wedding.

c/w: alcohol, angst, smut!!!! (penetrative sex)

word count: 7.9k

you had been incredibly overjoyed to open the letter left at your door and see it was an invitation to ron and hermione's wedding. the moving portrait of them holding each other and laughing on the front of the invite made you smile, their faces slightly wrinkled from time. it had been nearly 5 years since you'd last seen them. of course you always meant to keep in contact with everyone after leaving, but it didn't quite work out that way. you had spoken to ron a few times here and there and kept in pretty regular contact with hermione over the years, but you knew it was never going to be the same. not just because of time, but hurt feelings as well.

see, it wasn't just you, ron, and hermione back in school. in fact, people mostly only knew of your group because of one person in particular: harry potter.

harry and ron had been sitting in their train car on the way to hogwarts when you and hermione stopped to introduce yourselves. you felt a special connection to harry right away, experiencing butterflies in your stomach for the first time when you shook his hand and told him your name. of course you'd heard of harry potter before, no young witch or wizard at the time hadn't. but you didn't let that cloud your friendship with him, a friendship that continued to grow for years.

you and harry hit it off well. everyone in the friend group got along great, but there was always something different about you and harry. unlike ron and hermione who gradually grew into their romance over the years, you and harry had romantic tension right away. even just that first day on the train, neither of you could stop blushing or stealing sneaky glances at one another the entire ride to hogwarts.

throughout your first and second years, the four of you grew incredibly close as you found yourselves on wild and often dangerous adventures together. by your third year, things became a little more complicated as crushes, dating, and relationships became the topic of interest within the walls of hogwarts. who was dating who, who liked who, or who could put a love spell on who the quickest.

it was no secret that you and harry liked each other. at least to everyone else. you always laughed a bit harder at harry's jokes, harry's eyes always seemed to linger on you a bit longer than normal, and, after a while, you were both clearly envious of any attention given to someone else even in the littlest way.

it all started with a boy from your transfigurations class who set his sights on you towards the end of year three. you weren't interested, of course, your sights had always been set on harry, but that didn't stop the boy from doing everything he could to try and insert himself between you two.

harry caught on right away, and was completely annoyed at the situation. he'd roll his eyes any time the kid was around, made snappy remarks when he tried to speak to him, and often outright ignored him completely. you'd noticed a change in harry's attitude, but didn't have long to process what it meant before he began talking to a girl from his defense against the dark arts class.

harry began bringing her around more and more, which, in turn, made you fume. you'd always assumed you had an unspoken understanding with harry that you both liked each other, but apparently you had been proven wrong. you played off your jealousy well for a while, but it wasn't easy to hide how upsetting the entire ordeal was for you.

this cycle would continue with harry into your fourth year once he started to grow closer to cho chang. as a sort of retaliation, you began dating your first official boyfriend not long after you learned harry was taking cho to the yule ball. harry didn't react well to this at all, nearly turning the kid into a hairless rat before ron could calm him down. 

though your friendship with harry would remain civil throughout this time, it was clear you were both only "dating" people as a way to get each other's attention. between the vengeful flings were constant flirtatious moments, playful teasing, and lingering touches that left no mystery to everyone around you.

however, things were different once ginny got involved. at first you assumed it was just another way for harry to make you jealous, a close hit to home that would only last as long as the others did before inevitably fizzling out. however, the longer it went on, the more worried you became. no 'girlfriend' of harry's had lasted more than a few weeks, let alone entire months that went by without any sign of slowing down.

it had gone past the point of being able to bring a guy around to grab harry's attention, in fact he only seemed increasingly unbothered each time. you finally came to ron and hermione nearly in tears as you confessed your feelings towards harry to them, to no surprise on their part, and begged for guidance on how to navigate the situation without disrespecting ron or his sister in the process.

ron sighed, meeting eyes with hermione before leveling with you. "look, [y/n]," he had said. "i love ginny more than anything in the world, and i would never do anything to ruin her happiness. but," he sighed again. "i've known how you felt for a long time now, and i would be an idiot to keep you from being honest with harry."

hermione had given you a hug, holding you tightly as she told you, "you deserve to be happy."

you found yourself having a moment alone with harry later that same week where you could finally get your feelings off your chest. you'd pulled him to the side and nervously attempted to explain yourself to him as he gave you an amused look.

"look, harry, i'm just going to come out with it and tell you something i should've told you a long time ago," you'd said, your voice shaking. you had to look away from his eyes in order to get the words out. "i-i like you, okay? i like you, a lot, and i know you're dating ginny now a-and that's great and all, but…" you'd gotten choked up as a flood of emotions washed over you.

"please, harry, just…please, i can't watch this any more, it's killing me," you spit out, turning away from him and crossing your arms as you bury your face in your shoulder. "i love you." you'd said quietly.

harry no longer looked amused as he crossed his arms as well, his expression tightening. "what exactly do you want me to do, [y/n]?" he'd asked curtly, his voice cold. you looked at him, confused, studying his body language as your eyebrows furrowed together. "i…" you stuttered.

"what, you think now because you're ready for me i should just break up with ginny?" he asked, seeming slightly annoyed. you gave him a look before uncrossing your arms. "no, i don't think that, actually." you told him coldly.

"then what the hell do you want from me, [y/n]? i spent 5 bloody years pining after you while you treated me like a brother. now that i'm finally finding happiness in someone who actually wants me you want to tell me this? well, you're too late," harry ranted at you, his hands frustratedly raised as his expression got angrier.

you were speechless, your mouth slightly hung open at his confession of attraction while he stepped around you. before he could leave, you turned to harry one last time with tears in your eyes. "you blithering idiot, i've liked you since the moment we met that day on the train!" you exclaimed at him, your voice full of pain. harry looked at you, his eyes widening as you came closer to him, your finger digging into his chest.

"it's because of your ignorance that this is happening. all i wanted was to be honest with you." you spat before taking your hand away, the tears falling down your cheeks. "but i hope you're happy, harry, i really do." you told him between gasps before turning and leaving him behind you.

it had been years since that fight, and you hadn't spoken with harry since. while you always tried to remain close with hermione and ron, your last few years at hogwarts were mostly spent alone, much like how they'd been since. you were conflicted, holding that invite in your hands, reading the details over and over again to yourself as you weighed your options. it was undoubted you would see harry again, your first time in person since leaving hogwarts, and you weren't sure if you could handle the confrontation.

but after a few days of thinking, you decided your friendship with ron and hermione had always meant more to you than your silly crush on harry did.

while making your reservation over the phone, the voice on the other line informed you that ron and hermione had specially reserved a cottage for you near the venue the day before the wedding in case you accepted the invite. you were floored at the news, nearly speechless as you thanked the operator for telling you with the call abruptly ending at the promise of a ride service the day of your stay.

and, without fail, there was a car waiting for you outside of your house the evening before the wedding ready to take you to your cottage.

what you hadn't planned on was the overwhelming snowfall that started halfway through your trip and only got worse the closer you got to your destination. by the time you were pulling your luggage out of the trunk, the snow was nearly up to your knees.

despite your worries about the weather, you were thrilled with the beautiful cabin ron and hermione had reserved for you. it had a warm fireplace, a fully stocked fridge, plenty of blankets, and a projector set up to play movies. you were just getting settled in when you heard the distinct sound of a car door outside. you froze, your heart thumping in your chest as you heard muffled voices and footsteps up to the unlocked door.

before you could move, the door opens to reveal a snow covered harry.

you were in shock watching him come through the door without so much as noticing you only a few feet away. it wasn't until he closed the door and took off his beanie that he finally locked eyes with you, jumping at your sudden presence.

"[y/n]?" he exclaimed. "what…what are you doing here?" he asked, his voice full of shock.

you blinked at him, trying to figure out how, of all people, harry potter had to be the one to show up at your door at this moment. "i could ask you the same," you deadpanned.

harry cracks a small smile, shaking off his coat and hanging it up beside the front door. "haven't changed a bit, have you?" he asks with a smirk.

"don't joke with me, potter. what the hell are you doing here? ron and hermione reserved this cabin for me only," you narrowed your eyes at him and crossed your arms as you took a few steps in his direction.

harry scoffed, shaking the remaining thick snowflakes out of his hair. it was longer than you'd seen him keep it before, and began to curl at the ends around his face. "well, they must've given you the wrong address, then. because this is my cabin." he told you simply.

you scoffed in return. "don't be ridiculous, they had a driver bring me here and everything. if anyone's in the wrong here it's you."

harry paused, turning his head to you slowly. "they got you a driver too?" he asked curiously. you gave him a confused look. "yes?" you said suspiciously.

harry sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor. "damn it," he cursed under his breath. "what?" you demanded to know, taking another step towards him as your eyes continued to study his face.

harry turned to the dining table as well as you, your eyes falling on a welcome basket you hadn't noticed before. as harry walks towards it, you see him grab for an envelope addressed to 'harry & [y/n]' in hermione's familiar script.

harry opens it, sighing as he reads the letter aloud. "dear harry and [y/n], enjoy your snowed-in stay together at the cottage until sunday, the actual date of our reception. can't wait to see you there, love you both, ron and hermione. p.s., don't be too mad at us!"

you're dumbfounded watching harry place the note back into the basket, his head falling forward. after a moment he shrugs, pulling the basket closer to him and opening one of the prepackaged candies.

"you can't be serious. i'm not doing this, i'm not staying with you in this cottage all weekend," you say with disgust as you walk towards a phone table near the couch. harry turns, stuffing his face with the candy and chuckling to himself watching you attempt to dial a number. "good luck getting a cab in this weather," you can practically hear the smirk in his voice.

you turn to the window and your mouth falls open at the sheer amount of snow that's fallen since you've arrived at the cottage. the bottoms of the windows are just barely covered with more piling on top quickly.

you frustratedly groan and slam the phone down, wracking your brain for a new solution to your predicament. you had to find a way out of here, there was no possible way you could handle another moment around harry like this, let alone an entire weekend.

just as you're about to start pacing, harry chimes in again. "look, it won't be so bad, alright?" he tries to console you, unwrapping yet another treat from the basket.

you narrow your eyes at harry again, feeling your blood boil at how much this situation isn't affecting him. granted, you weren't aware seeing him would have this much of an affect on you, but you were still hurt by everything that happened between you in the past. how else were you supposed to feel being confronted with your first love nearly 5 years after having your heart broken by him?

"easy for you to say, i'm sure this is nothing but a laugh for you." you snap at him once more, walking back towards the bedroom door. harry scoffs yet again. "what, you think i find this fun?" he laughs.

you turn to him, studying his expression with him doing the same to you. "you think i asked ron and hermione to put me in the same cabin as my ex-best-friend?" he asks sarcastically.

you wince at the title he's given you, turning your back to him once more as you enter the bedroom not far from him. "don't call me that. and no, i don't think you knew about this. but you were always good at assuming things about me, weren't you?" you asked sarcastically in return, angrily packing your clothes back into your luggage from their place on the bed.

harry takes a step into the room before pausing, his eyes landing on your half-folded clothes being angrily stuffed into the case. he looked up at you, his posture softening as he takes a smaller step towards you. "what are you doing?" he asks quietly.

you roll your eyes at his question. "what's it look like?" you ask him.

harry sighs, putting out a hand to stop you from continuing. "you don't have to leave, alright? if you really don't want me here i'll figure out a way home. i just thought it'd be nice to catch up again, y'know, like old times. i'm sure that's why ron and hermione put us here in the first place." harry reasons with you, your eyes connecting with his. you can smell him he's so close to you, his hand just barely hovering over yours.

your eyes search harry's, your stomach dropping at the familiarity of his gaze on you. you almost feel like a kid again, crushing on your best friend, the most amazing wizard hogwarts had ever seen, the sweetest boy you'd ever met with the prettiest eyes in the world.

you finally blink and look away, putting the clothes you were holding onto the bed again. you knew harry had a point. ron and hermione wouldn't house you together 2 days before the actual wedding just to mess with you. you knew in the past they wanted you to reconcile with harry, even if it was just to keep the peace, but you always refused their offers with tears stinging your eyes. you just weren't ready to open that chapter of your life again; though now, it seemed, you had no other choice.

you took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing mind. "you're probably right," you say quietly, harry's arm dropping back to his side.

you turn to look at him again, taking a step back to put some room between you. "im sorry." you say simply. "you don't have to leave if you don't want to. though you should probably call ginny to let her know what's going on."

harry involuntarily laughs, his eyes crinkling as he tries to cover it with a cough. "uh, sorry?" he asked you incredulously. your brows pinch together in confusion. "uh, ginny? i'm sure you're well married by now, yeah? possibly even a kiddo or two?" you try to say lightheartedly, but your voice falters.

harry lets out a hearty chuckle, shaking his head at you as he heads towards the bedroom door. "right, yeah, think i'm good on that front," harry says between laughs, his hand resting on his chest.

you look after him confused, but decide to let it go as you unpack your clothes yet again. just as you're finishing up you hear the stove turn on, making your stomach growl. you didn't realize how hungry you'd gotten, but it was nearing nightfall and you hadn't even had breakfast today.

you walk into the kitchen to the smell of pancakes and the sight of harry cutting up strawberries. he looks over at you with a smile. "want some? i was starved," he offers. you hesitantly accept his offer, taking a seat at the dining table and grabbing the note from ron and hermione to read it over yourself.

harry noticed this and chuckled, plating up the first few pancakes off the frying pan. "pretty clever trick, if you ask me. i think it was all ron's idea."

you scoff at this, rolling your eyes as you study the letter. "oh please, you think ron would go through the trouble of sending us wrong invites just to get us in the same room together? this has hermione written all over it," you explain, setting the envelope back in the basket.

harry chuckles again, setting the plate of pancakes in front of you covered in syrup and strawberry slices. "you're probably right," he says warmly, heading back to the stove.

you have to admit, harry's pancakes were otherworldly. you had to hold yourself back from complimenting him too much as to not give him an ego. however you finished your plate before harry could even sit next to you with his, which made him smirk as he started digging in himself.

just as you finish washing off your plate, harry comes up beside you with his own. "you know, i figured, since there's only one bed, you should maybe have it for the night." he offers, washing his plate clean.

you turn to him, studying his face as he keeps his eyes on his hands. the offer was completely generous, and not something you expected from harry.

"oh, um, thank you, that's really kind of you. i don't mind sleeping on the couch, you know." you counter.

harry nods his head, turning off the sink and smiling over at you. "i know," he said. "neither do i."

you crack a small smile at him, the first one you've given him so far, and look away as you place the dried plate back in the cupboard. harry does the same and closes it for you.

you help harry get settled into the living room, laying out blankets for him on the couch as he fiddles with the projector and gets an old movie started for himself. you're about to say something to him when you turn and watch harry pull his shirt off and throw it in his suitcase. as he's pulling out his pajamas, you quickly divert your eyes before they can wander further down his torso.

you're still blushing by the time harry turns the lights off, smiling at the projected movie on the wall. "this is nice, you're welcome to sit and watch if you'd like." harry offers, turning to you. you shake your head, giving him a tight smile. "i'm just about to head to bed, actually."

harry nods, his smile slightly falling. "that's alright," he says.

you exchange an awkward goodnight with harry before closing your bedroom door, immediately letting your head fall into your hands in frustration. you were completely overwhelmed with everything going on you couldn't even begin to process what was happening. exhausted and confused, you got dressed for bed and settled into the sheets thinking about how close harry was to you after years of thinking you'd never see him again. the thought made your stomach tighten and your heart race.

you didn't leave your room until early the next afternoon, wasting time in the shower as you tried to prolong being away from harry and all the feelings that came with him. eventually you became too hungry and bored to sustain yourself much longer and finally entered the living room.

all of harry's blankets were folded back up and put away, with no sign of him sleeping on the couch left. you noticed him in the kitchen again, the smell of garlic and onions overwhelming your senses the closer you got.

harry noticed you and gave you a warm smile, eagerly grabbing for a bowl. "morning, sleepy head." he teases, offering you a bowl of pasta. "or should i say afternoon?"

you roll your eyes at him, but thank him for the food nonetheless. you take your first bite and can't help but moan at the flavor. harry turns to you with red cheeks.

"did ginny teach you how to cook or something?" you asked him, immediately going back for another bite as you lean against the counter beside him. harry just laughs and shakes his head at you again. "did ron and hermione really not tell you about anything after hogwarts?" he asked with an amused voice.

you give him a look, pausing from the food to answer his question. "well, to be fair, anytime we spoke i asked they not mention you at all…" 

harry laughs at this, eating the rest of the pasta right out of the pot. "im flattered," he says sarcastically.

you nudge him with your elbow, holding back a chuckle of your own. "whatever. but tell me, what should i know?"

harry leans back against the counter as well, his eyes falling to the ground. "me and ginny, we broke up not long after the war." he tells you, his voice solemn as crosses his arms.

you set down your bowl, reaching for a napkin to wipe your mouth. "harry, i'm sorry. i had no idea," you apologize, turning to look at him fully. you feel guilty for bringing her up, but truly had no idea they'd ever separated. you assumed this whole time they were living some dream life off together in the countryside while you stayed in your hometown and wished things were different.

harry just shook his head and laughed, his eyes connecting with yours. "don't be. you didn't know. besides, it ended well. a bit awkward at the weasley christmases, but, y'know," he trails off. you giggle, but try to hide it from him. harry just laughs with you, his cheeks red.

"but, um, what about you? if i may ask," harry inquires.

you timidly lean back on the counter next to harry again, crossing your arms like him as well. "well, to be quite honest, i haven't done much since leaving hogwarts. i've got a place of my own if that means anything," you say with a hollow chuckle.

"better than me, i'd say. i'm still at grimmauld." harry reasons with you, returning the same fake laugh.

"oh hardly, at least you've stayed close with ron and hermione. i think this is the most i've spoken to someone outside of my job in years." you tell him, dropping your gaze to your feet at the realization.

harry just hums in response, his gaze on the floor as well.

you sit in a somewhat comfortable silence for a moment before harry starts cleaning up the kitchen around you.

"you know, if you don't mind me saying, i've really missed you over these last few years. i know it's not ideal to meet again this way, but…i'm glad it happened." harry tells you as he puts away the dishes.

you feel your heart flutter at his words, and have to hold back a smile from taking over your face. he looks at you with a shy expression before beginning to wipe down the table.

"well, thank you, harry. i've missed you as well, i suppose." you say with a smirk.

harry just rolls his eyes playfully before returning to the sink to continue doing dishes.

you head to the living room and decide to put on a movie seeing as you're still completely snowed in. you re-light the fireplace as well and close the curtains to settle into the couch for the afternoon.

harry eventually joins you, offering a soft blanket as he takes the other side of the couch. you're not paying much mind to the movie as you mostly think about everything harry's told you far. you're not sure what to think, but knowing ginny is out of the picture now makes you feel all those same feelings from your school days while stealing glances at harry.

after a while harry uses the bathroom, and returns with the bottle of wine from the welcome basket. "might as well, yeah?" he shrugs, offering you the bottle to open. you smile and take it from him, setting the bottle on the table as he grabs a few glasses from the kitchen. you struggle with the cork a bit before harry offers to do it for you, pulling out the cork in one swift motion. you try your best not to notice the prominent veins in his arms but fail to look away before he's pouring your glass for you.

your first glass is finished while silently watching the movie, trying to pay attention to the plot with a racing mind focused on harry only a few feet away from you. as he pours his second glass he fills yours as well, mockingly cheering to you before taking a swig.

"y'know, [y/n], i'm real sorry for the way things ended between us. and i'm not just saying that, i mean, i really am sorry." harry confesses before taking another sip of his wine.

your heart's already racing, finishing your glass just to get the courage to respond to him. "it's okay, harry. really. we were both not very good to each other near the end there." you recall, a blush blooming across your face.

harry smiles, finishing his glass as well and reaching for the bottle. "well, still, i shouldn't have acted that way." he says, taking a swig straight from the bottle before leaning back into the couch.

you smirk and set your glass down as well, reaching for the bottle yourself. harry hands it to you and watches you take a sip before lying back as well.

"i probably should've told you i liked you sooner anyway. don't really know what i was waiting for, i guess," you say before downing another drink. harry shakes his head, motioning for you to hand him the bottle. "probably waiting for me, yeah?" he asks as he grabs the neck of the bottle.

you smile a bit. "maybe," you say softly, leaning against the back of the couch. you feel the effects of the alcohol start to wash over you as your body loosens, the anxiety melting away with every sip.

harry just sighs again before drinking. he wipes his mouth with his hand before fixing his glasses. "well, i should've known. i mean, you weren't actually into that hufflepuff quidditch captain, were you? please tell me that was just a ploy to get my attention?" he asks with a chuckle, handing you the bottle back.

you laugh, taking the wine and drinking more of it. "he was nice," you feigned innocence, feeling the intoxication settle in. harry rolls his eyes and grabs the bottle again. "yeah, right. all he wanted was a shag and you know it." he says, his tone slightly bitter and words beginning to slur.

you smirk at him. "well, at least someone wanted to shag me." you tease harry, reaching for the bottle again before he can even take his turn to drink. harry pulls away and shakes his head, making you scoff. "yeah, okay, [y/n]. whatever you say." he concludes before taking the last sip of the wine.

you whine when he hands you the empty bottle, setting it down on the table in defeat. "what, were you jealous or something?" you asked harry without thinking, feeling your face and chest heating up.

harry takes a moment to respond, clearly at a loss for words. "uh, well, i was just looking out for you, like i always did." he stumbles, leaning into the back of the couch with you.

he doesn't sound convincing, but you just attribute it to the alcohol and move on.

"and what about you? you mean to tell me you actually liked that slytherin chatterbox without a brain to match?" you asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. "or was that just for me?" you ask with a laugh.

harry didn't respond, instead only returning his attention to the movie. "that's what i thought," you say triumphantly, turning to watch the movie as well.

after a moment, harry softly says, "everything was for you."

you turn to look at him, but he remains focused on the movie. "what?" you ask curiously.

harry finally turns to look at you. "everything, it was all for you, [y/n]. not just the girls, all of it. when there was nothing left to fight for, there was always you. even when you were gone." harry says in a somber voice, his eyes exploring yours.

you're not sure what to say, mostly because you're lost in the moment as your blushing cheeks only get worse the longer harry watches you.

"it was always you, [y/n]. why do you think ginny and i didn't last? because she knew." harry asks, leaning closer to you.

you back away slightly, your eyes diverting from harry's. "harry, please. this is just the alcohol talking."

harry shakes his head and gently places his hands on your cheeks, turning you to look at him again. "no, [y/n], it's not. can't you see? you were all i wanted. i was stupid, and i lost you forever. i've wanted to tell you this since the moment i saw you yesterday." he confesses, his fingers lightly tracing the curve of your cheekbone down to your jaw.

"so beautiful, just like i remember," harry says softly, leaning into you once more. this time you don't back away, your stomach full of knots at the feeling of being held in harry's hands so tenderly. his face is only inches from yours before asking, "please, can i kiss you?"

maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the crackling fireplace, or maybe it was the lingering feelings of love and adoration from your childhood crush years past, whatever it may be, something pushed you to kiss that boy before he could even realize what was going on.

sloppy, messy, eager making out from both sides as you desperately grab hold of each other for dear life just feels so right. it's not long before harry has you on your back, his body weighing on top of you as the smell of the wine comes off his breath.

"harry," you manage to say between his lingering kisses. "swear this isn't just the wine? if it is, i don't care, i just want you," you try to ask again breathlessly.

harry's hand tangles in your hair, holding your face to his as you let out an involuntary whine. "this is all i've wanted my whole life." he says simply, his lips softly finding yours once more to leave a passionate, loving kiss. when he pulls away, he looks down at you with lustful eyes. "is this what you want?" he asks.

you shake your head eagerly. "all i've wanted." you repeat after him. harry smiles before connecting his lips with yours once more.

after making out for a while longer with harry on top of you, he eventually lifts you up to carry you to the bedroom. you laugh and try to squirm out of his arms. "i can walk myself, y'know. i'm not that tipsy," you tell him.

harry just hums at you and throws you onto the messy sheets, quickly removing his shirt before returning on top of you. biting your lip, you reach for harry's shoulders and feel his skin raise with goosebumps immediately.

"you're so pretty," harry mumbles to himself before kissing you again. his tongue slips between your lips and you gasp at the sensation. he takes advantage and leans further into the kiss, his hand finding your hair once more to keep you in place.

you whine against his lips at the pain, but don't want him to be any gentler. all you've wanted for so long was to feel like harry wanted you, needed you, and you weren't about to have him hold back from showing you exactly what you've been wanting.

"so, so, so pretty," harry says between kisses along your jaw and neck down to your chest. you go to pull off your shirt as well, but harry stops you by holding your hands down. "and so eager, too," he teases you with a smirk.

your face goes red, squirming under his gaze. you try to wriggle from his grasp but it only tightens. "patience, pretty girl," he tells you.

after nodding in agreement, harry lets go of your hands and slowly raises your shirt until it's just below your chest. he leaves kisses along your stomach, causing your body to shudder in anticipation.

harry lifts your shirt over your boobs and admires you for just a moment before removing your shirt completely. his lips meet yours again with hunger, his hands gently massaging the soft skin of your tits.

you moan into the kiss, arching your back further into harry for more. he smirks at your eagerness again, but continues to kiss you messily.

once he starts pulling and tugging at your nipples, you become a mess in his hands. "harry," you moan between his lips. "please," you say desperately.

"please what, darling? y'know i've waited so long to have you beg for me, i'd like to hear the words come from your mouth." harry tells you, his voice dark.

"please, harry, please touch me," you whine, grinding your hips against his above you. harry groans and pushes your hips back down with his own. "fuck me," harry curses under his breath.

after a bit of a struggle, harry manages to get both his and your pants to the floor. his hands delicately trace the outline of your panties along your hips and thighs. you can feel your stomach erupt in butterflies watching harry admire your body.

"you don't know how much i've thought about you [y/n], i could hardly contain myself last night knowing you were in the next room over," harry explains and hooks his fingers under the material of your panties. you're breathing heavily, red in the face as harry continues.

"if you could see the thoughts i was having you'd think i'm still some horny teenager with a crush," he says with a chuckle.

you cover your face in embarrassment and giggle knowing you felt the same way the night before only a few feet away.

"i mean, can you blame me?" harry asks, slowly pulling down your panties to your knees. "such a pretty girl," he continues, taking the fabric off of your legs. "my pretty girl," he states, twirling your panties around his fingers for a moment before tossing them to the floor as well.

"i-i've thought about you, too," you stutter. harry smiles as he slowly spreads your legs apart, admiring you from his spot between them. "yeah?" he asks, running his fingers along the soft skin of your inner thighs. "why don't you tell me about it, love," harry offers as his fingers slowly get achingly closer to your dripping pussy.

your eyes dart back and forth from his lustful gaze to his veiny hands between your legs. the knots in your stomach only tighten as you become more desperate for his touch.

"i-i…i never stopped thinking about you," you gasp as his fingertips run along your wetness carefully. "well? go on, pretty girl," harry encourages you.

your breath gets caught in your throat for a moment before you can respond. "i…" you're interrupted by a soft moan as harry applies soft pressure to your clit. "i, um, always have dreams about you…being with you…" you manage to get out before another moan slips through your lips.

"last night, a-all i wanted was you next to me," you admit shyly, grinding your hips further into harry's touch. "you were so close, i never thought…" you trail off as harry slowly inserts his fingers inside of you, only barely pushing into you before removing them. you gasp, shuddering at the sensation, hands gripping at the sheets beneath you.

"thought what, hm?" harry asks you with an innocent expression. you narrow your eyes at him but his fingers curl inside you again, a bit further this time, causing your head and eyes to roll back as you adjust to the feeling. "fuck," you curse under your breath.

harry just hums at your response, admiring your body beneath him as you try to catch your breath again. he slowly begins thrusting his fingers in and out of your tight pussy, getting deeper each time, groaning at the feeling of you throbbing around him.

"go ahead, love, finish your thought." he reminds you, his other hand pushing down on your hip to hold you in place as he continues working his fingers deeper into you.

you're a whining mess in his hands, practically melting into the bed as your composure falls apart. the sight of harry's arms working to pleasure you with his eyes focused on your shaking body only pushed you further into your trance.

"mm, fuck, i…i n-never thought, i'd…" you gasp as harry's fingers reach a sensitive spot, making your face twist in pleasure. "i'd get the chance to, mm," you try to continue but your voice gets caught again as harry takes advantage of your sensitivity.

"hm?" he asks simply, picking up the pace of his thrusting fingers.

you whine again, your hand shooting to your mouth to keep the sounds in. harry removes your hand before placing his on your stomach, pushing you further into the mattress.

"tell me," harry demands.

you can feel your orgasm approaching, your legs going numb as harry continues to quicken his pace. "i-i never thought i'd get the chance to be with you," you finally get out, your back arching off the bed.

all at once, harry's fingers pull out of you as he rips his boxers off quickly. you whine as your orgasm fades away, your hips bucking up in search of relief.

harry smirks at your reaction, aligning himself with you between your legs. "it's so cute how desperate you are," he tells you, making you hide your face once more.

he uncovers your face and gives you a soft kiss. "but it's nothing compared to how badly i've wanted you," harry says, pushing the tip of his erection against your aching pussy.

he sits up and guides his cock inside of you slowly, letting you adjust around him gradually. you gasp at the feeling, your head falling back into the bed.

"i've spent years thinking about you, [y/n], dreaming about you, fantasizing about you," harry says between deep moans the further he pushes himself into you. "i never stopped," he admits, leaning down to kiss you once more.

you're breathing heavily and letting your body relax as harry's entire length fills you up. he continues to slowly thrust in and out of you, carefully watching your expression to be sure you weren't in any pain.

"so beautiful," harry tells you between heavy breaths, his hand softly cupping your cheek. you look into his eyes, your face still twisted in pleasure. "so perfect," he sighs before leaning in to kiss you again.

your body relaxes more once harry kisses you, pulling him closer to you. "harry," you brokenly moan into the kiss, making him practically growl in response.

"there you go, love," harry encourages you, picking up his speed as his hips knock into yours. "so good for me," he says as he leans his forehead against yours.

your moans become more and more desperate the rougher harry becomes with you, his hands grabbing for your tits and groping them roughly. your eyes struggle to stay open watching harry, sweaty, groaning, his eyes dark with hunger as he desperately chases his high with you.

you reach for his chest, your hand resting against his rapid heartbeat. "feels so good harry," you whimper, bending your knees further into your torso to give him more access to your aching pussy.

harry's thumb finds your clit and begins circling it slowly, causing your legs to start shaking involuntarily. you can't help but let out a string of breathless fuck, fuck, fucks, feeling your orgasm returning.

"you're, harry, mmf," you try to tell him, but harry just smirks and kisses you to shut you up. "cum for me [y/n]," he says against your lips, thrusting harder into you.

your mind goes blank as you feel your body ride the waves of your high, letting sinful sounds fall from your lips as harry's head falls into your chest, his face dripping with sweat. harry's name becomes part of your moans, only encouraging him more as his thrusts don't slow.

"fuck, [y/n]," harry's voice falls apart, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. you're still shaking, your body unable to recover as harry chases his high. "you're gonna make me cum," he gasps.

you reach for harry's face and pull him in for another kiss, slipping your tongue between his lips. he immediately melts into you, pulling his cock out and letting his cum fall onto the soft skin of your stomach. you moan with him as he comes down, his body collapsing to your side with his head in your neck.

a few moments of silence pass as you both catch your breath, your hand comfortingly rubbing harry's shoulder as he hums against your ear. you eventually giggle, causing harry to laugh as well. another moment later, he attempts to stand from the bed, your arms still lingering around him. "i'll be right back, love," he promises you.

he heads for the bathroom and returns with a washcloth, cleaning off your stomach softly with a slightly embarrassed expression. "sorry," he said shyly.

you chuckle at the difference in harry's attitude now. "don't be," you tell him.

you eventually stand as well, your balance a bit off as you adjust to the feeling. harry helps you to the bathroom, his arm wrapped around your shoulders supportively.

"here," harry hands you a towel as you turn on the shower. "i'll grab your pajamas as well, yeah?" he says before leaving the room. you smile after him, your heart racing at the gesture. just as you step into the water you see harry leave your pajama set on the bathroom counter, offering you a shy smile as he leaves once again.

after you're dressed, you head back to bed to see harry curled up in the sheets with a book in hand. you can't help but feel giddy at the sight of him, shirtless, the sunset shining through the windows on his skin as his eyes focus on the text.

you crawl into bed beside him, and he sets the book down to reach for you. "hey you," he says with a smile. you giggle and cuddle into his side, wrapping yourself around him. "hi," you say shyly.

harry chuckles, covering you with the comforter and pulling you close to him. "don't mind me sleeping here for the night, do you? the couch isn't nearly as comfortable," he teases. you laugh, setting your hand on harry's heartbeat again. "of course not," you tell him.

you and harry spend the evening talking, reminiscing, laughing, and kissing until you eventually fall asleep on his chest. harry just kissed your head and held you close as he fell asleep as well.

the next morning as you're getting ready for the wedding, harry finished packing up the cabin and came up behind you to hug you in the bathroom mirror. "you look stunning, darling," he told you, his eyes wandering in the mirror down your body adorned in a beautiful dress. you just smirk and lean into him, your heart still racing at his romantic gestures. you're not sure if you could ever get used to them now.

on the way to the wedding, harry's hand casually rests on your knee in the back of the cab. you can't help but admire harry in his suit, telling him he looks handsome as you pull up to the venue ready to watch ron and hermione get married.

at the reception, hermione runs up to you, tears in both of your eyes as you pull each other in for a hug. ron and harry also hug, giving each other a specific handshake as harry congratulates his best friend.

"congratulations, you guys. you look perfect, hermione," you say once she pulls away, taking a tissue to her eyes. you lean in to give ron a hug as well, and hermione gives harry a big hug beside you.

"well, i see you aren't too mad about our little plan," ron says to you, his arm wrapping around hermione comfortingly. you and harry look at each other and laugh knowingly. you shake your head at ron. "no, i guess we aren't."

hermione's smile only gets wider as she sees harry's hand link with yours discreetly. "i'm just so happy we can be together today," she says tearfully.

you pull her in for another hug, with ron and harry joining not long after, making you all giggle at the heartwarming moment.

[raquellemonsta]

Heyy! Since you’re taking requests, can I request a tsukishima who gets baby fever after seeing reader take care/baby sit Yamaguchi’s child, idk it sounds so sweeeeet in my head😭😭🩷 no rush though, take care!

okay, this ask is like a year old. i'm SO sorry about that. i hope you enjoy, regardless. soft kei is best kei. thank you for the wonderful request <3

wc: 1365

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

opening your eyes, you see that your car has finally made it to your destination. you and your husband of about a year are visiting a good friend of both of you, yamaguchi tadashi, at his home. speaking of your husband, you turn to see him looking at you expectantly, waiting to open his door until you're fully awake.

tsukishima kei, the man of your dreams and the love of your life. the two of you had met in university and hit it off relatively quickly. he was studying history and archaeology because he had a thing for dinosaurs (he very much still has a thing for dinosaurs), and you thought he was adorable despite his initial demeanor. the serious, jerkish persona was the most evident part of him, though after you got to know him you discovered many other facets to his personality that had you falling in love. you dated for a few years, and finally married last summer at a destination wedding attended by just your parents and chosen friends.

since then, you guys have been extremely busy finalizing information with your marriage, house, and your job. kei already had his job at the sekai city museum lined up directly out of college, but you weren't as lucky. after months of job searching and apartment hunting, everything has worked out. now you have the time to see your friends on a more regular basis again.

"ready?" he asks you. you only smile and nod at him before you open your door. walking up the steps to tadashi's front door, you aren't surprised when you knock and find the door is unlocked.

"come in guys!" you hear his friendly voice from another room, further in the house.

unfortunately, yachi is working. otherwise, your close friend would have without a doubt been waiting at the door for the two of you. she had already apologized profusely to you, via both texts and calls. you promised her you understood, not that you would ever be upset with her anyways.

kicking your outdoor shoes off and replacing them with slippers, kei takes your light jacket off of your shoulders and hangs it for you. your eyes are drawn to your beautiful husband (he 'hates' when you call him that), his face solemn though you know he's excited to see his best friend again. finally, the two of you make your way towards the direction of tadashi's voice.

"long time no see!" tadashi jokes, and you smile brightly.

"it's so nice to see you tadashi" you kindly smile. in his arms sits a little baby. "who's this little angel?" you ask. you've seen pictures of the little boy, both on social media and from tadashi and hitoka themselves. he's only a few months old, but he's grown very fast. you want to scream from how cute he looks when he randomly pops up on your feed.

"this is my son, haru", he replies. at the sound of his own name, haru opens his eyes to gaze up at his dad.

"he's so cute!" you compliment, "can i hold him?". your arms already extended before he answers, and you don't miss kei's playful scoff at your eagerness.

"excited much?" he snarks. you jokingly roll your eyes at him before you again gesture to yamaguchi.

"of course! and again, hitoka's really upset she couldn't be here. yajakudo always needs her at the most random times" he apologized. he carefully hands the baby over to you, and you make sure his head is supported. he's looking up at you with the most incredulous, wide eyes that remind you of his mother.

"it's no problem at all, that girl worries too much. now go away! have some well-deserved catchup time. haru's safe with me."

again, hearing his name makes haru look up at you and smile, two little teeth poking out already. you can't stop yourself from the audible 'aww' that comes out, coaxing him to smile even bigger.

you sit yourself down with the child on the sofa and leave the guys to talk in the attached kitchen. it's close enough for them to still see you (not that tadashi doesn't trust you, it's just his dad instincts. and kei just likes looking at you), but far enough where you can't hear them in case they discuss something more private.

your heart swells at the adorable baby's sweet (mostly) gummy smile. you can't keep the grin off your face, babbling incoherent nonsense that makes haru laugh. it's the perfect positive feedback loop of happiness. you and kei haven't really talked much about children yet, since the two of you had really only just gotten settled into your lives together. you knew you wanted them eventually, though. haru seemed to be trying to push that to sooner rather than later.

from the other room, kei is trying his best to keep himself composed. he can barely focus on whatever tadashi is telling him about, eyes instead trained on you. his beautiful wife (you love when he calls you that), looking like a natural is almost too much. he hadn't considered the two of you having children just yet, (you'd only just found an apartment after all), though seeing you right now had him rethinking everything.

"you want one?" tadashi chuckles. he'd been caught.

kei lets out a signature, unconscious 'tch', but his best friend can see right through him. finally, he tears his eyes away from you to look at his friend. he certainly doesn't catch himself looking over at you every once in a while after that.

you only get up once haru has been asleep in your arms for a few minutes. carefully handing him back to tadashi, you quietly thank him and promise to visit again soon. he bids the both of you goodbye, offering kei a wink and goofy gesture. your husband rolls his eyes at this, heading over to the car where you're already waiting.

once you're both in, he doesn't start the car. very unusual for him, since tsukishima kei typically loves getting away from social events as quickly as possible. you turn to face him, trying to gauge if something's wrong. you're sure he can feel your eyes on him, even if he's blind as a bat.

he doesn't look at you, and doesn't even break from his usual monotone:

"let's have a baby"

"WHAT?"

you're suddenly woken up in the middle of the night to loud wails coming from another room.

somewhat reluctantly, you push up onto your elbows before stepping out of bed and onto the cold hardwood floor. a chill goes up your spine from the contact, but you can still hear the shrill noise from across the hall, so you put your slippers on and make your way towards the source of the noise (neglecting to notice the other half of your bed is already empty).

the light yellow room would be almost entirely dark, if not for the bright full moon shining through the window (and the moon nightlight, too). it is now peacefully quiet, with the noise of a small fan in the corner being the only sound you can register at first.

unsurprisingly, your husband is already there, holding your baby girl close to him. kei always seems to beat you to your daughter's room. he's whispering something you can't quite hear to her. even though she's mere months old and doesn't understand the meaning behind his words, she always loves to hear his voice (something the two of you have in common). her eyes beginning to close again, your heart melts at this little life the two of you have created.

looking up to kei's face, his eyes are bright despite being woken up at 2am. your husband has never been one to broadcast his positive emotions, but you know inside he's happy. your arm finds its way around his back, and his eyes switch down to you.

"was it worth it?" you ask him lightheartedly, whispering.

kei looks out the window, at the endless expanse of sky. he's held down by the warmth of his daughter and wife, his two favorite girls in the entire world. he doesn't know how he got so lucky, but in this moment there's nowhere and no one else he'd rather be.

his mouth turns upward, genuine and true.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

i’ve never requested anything from anyone so i’m a lil nervy butttt…

i’d love a relationship arc with the one and only soap! i love him and his lil mohawk! like he’s stationed wherever and he meets then falls in love with a native citizen who works closely with the military and their relationship from when they first meet to first date to first kid to marriage (100% doesn’t need to be in that order btw)

everything you come up with is 🤌 so i know it’ll be good!🤍🤍

—Life Snaps By In Flashes

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [A collection of memories from the second he laid eyes on you. All flashing past in the soft buzzing of the overhead lights.] ❞

It was by some dumb luck that he’d locked eyes with you that day, decades ago now, but he carries that memory with him like a dog with a bone. Stuck under the glow of the overhead lights, Soap calls them all forward—the good, the bad, the moments of peaceful nothing. 

It had been on an OP, out in the field on surveillance for another threat. You had served him a coffee at a cafe, given that kind smile, and he had been gone far before he had been called to move in. Johnny was surprised at how fast it had happened, but he had always been easy to gather affection from, truthfully. 

And when he had found out that you were an informant? Beautiful, smart, and reliable? He had half stuttered his way through a fake confident question for your number, and you had happily agreed with a smirk. You told him it was because of his honesty—the intentions clear on his face from the moment you’d walked through the door of the military base, written intel under your left arm and a recorder in your right palm. 

He thought you were perfect from only one glance, and he had never thought otherwise. 

Of course, there were fights, and disagreements about the job and the safety of each other. That was fair—it was natural. That was life, and what would the purpose be unless to prove that the two of you loved with all of your souls? 

The first date was common, nothing fancy—a nice, casual supper at a restaurant that would be frequented far into your older years. Everyone there would end up knowing your names, the owner himself being invited to your wedding. 

Oh, the wedding. Johnny can call that forward as easily as air. Or, at least, as easily as air used to come to him.

You, in that dress, staring at him and walking down that aisle. Everything else had blurred that day, and all he could care about was how you looked at him—standing just ahead with your hands in his shaky ones; his lips quivering as he pushed out a shocked laugh.

“You look…amazing, Bonnie. Lord, you’re just perfect.” You had laughed at his hushed whisper above the muttering of the officiant, eyes glassy. Johnny had tried to stifle his hoarse inhales as you called him handsome right back. 

From then came the next journey—kids. Many of them. Johnny had as big of a family as he and you had always wanted; adventures and hardships. Football games and music shows, painting exhibits, and movie nights where everyone was snuggled together. His blue eyes staring at you over the heads of your brood. 

Every night he would thank you for it. Every night.

The years drew and drew, retirement and the kids going off to Uni—leaving and getting married themselves. Wrinkles. Graying hair.

Until here. 

Until muscles broke down and you needed a wheelchair, Johnny a cane. Until the kids had thought it better to make his office into an at-home care room for the two of you—a live-in nurse down the hall.

The kids had visited yesterday with their own little ones. The older ones had known, of course, just by looking. Smart devils, Johnny had called them when they were just tiny things. And they were. 

You and him had raised some damn smart little devils.  

Johnny had snuck into your room tonight, his heart hurting him and his mind understanding. He slipped into your bed and you both shared it one last time as you weakly kissed his pale cheek, him nuzzling his head into yours and muttering a low ‘I love you’.

You had passed not three minutes ago.

As he always had been, Johnny was loathed to leave you waiting for him. So here, with those overhead lights, he lets his eyes dip closed, and he swears that a soft hand brushes his cheek, calling him home. 

Outside, the crickets creek, and the stars blink. The wind slips through the curtains of the open window, swaying them in a dance only they know.

Johnny does as he always did before he fell asleep, and it came as easy as letting that final breath go.

“...Thank you.”

[overtaken-stream]

Do you have any writing plans involving Katakuri or the Big mom pirates?

Monster's Voice Is Sweet To Hear

Charlotte Katakuri x F!Wife!Reader

! !NSFW! !

This is from ao3, last year, sorry for any grammar mistakes, as well as my different writing, this is also the first time I wrote filth, aside from the love-making in the Ace fic from Ao3. I want to write something for him but the ideas are just not coming to me. I also didn't specify readers race. Just that it's a female and tall/stronger then a human since we all know Big Mom won't just toss away Katakuri and make him marry a boring human with no specialties. this could work on all shapes and sizes of reader, chubby and skinny.

Word count: 5.8k

Summary: Rarely in the dead of night, a monster such as Katakuri needs love. It's something you can't say no to. After all, how can you deny that unnerving voice of his.

Warnings: Size difference, POST-WANO SPOILERS, multiple rounds.

In the quiet night, where only the humming of your voice is heard.

Light from the cake-inspired lamp bounces off the pink walls the shadow that's in a silhouette of a woman falls onto the giant bed in the center of the room.

On a quiet night, a married girl takes her jewelry off and places it in one of the drawers the magenta bureau contains.

You stand up from the chair, getting closer to the bed. Getting out of your clothes and putting on a modified (F/C) nightgown, you straighten the hot pink details running over your tall figure as you lie down on the heavenly bed.

Only at the sound of a door opening did you quickly get under the blanket. The sound of metal and leather rubbing against itself notifies you of the person who walked in before they can even say anything.

``(Y/N).``

``Katakuri.`` You shyly show your face from the covers to see the sight of your husband of 3 years now, even after all this time you can feel the blush creeping up your face, no matter how long you will never get used to seeing a man that's able to look down at you. That stoic and firey gaze always unleashed the butterflies deep inside your belly.

``I apologize for startling you, I've seemed to... Be distracted lately.`` This was his way of saying I forgot to knock on the door. With much time you start to learn the ways of Katakuri's speech patterns. Start to recognize what words his pride was holding back even from you. Apologetic wasn't one of them. It isn't like he's trying to hide something after all you've seen his biggest weakness in action multiple times, gobbling all kinds of sweets. But never have you thought forgetting was something Katakuri was capable of. It wasn't until after the incident at Pudding's wedding involving the Strawhats that Katakuri's mask, which he had been carrying since marrying you (probably much, much longer than that) truly shattered. Thanks to his younger sister Flampe not keeping her mouth shut about how horrid her big brother is physically and then about his treatment towards her, after what she did. The brat even tried to approach you to run her tongue about Katakuri. Your husband.

Honor is off the table when faced with a person with that kind of mindset. Never mind the respect when facing a worthy opponent.

``Mind if I join you?``

``No, not at all.`` You smile as you watch him carefully get out of his uniform. Never did you imagine you would smile at Katakuri, compared to the sad bride and groom the two of you were. The new life treated you both kindly, it wasn't fast but it wasn't slow-paced either.

The stiff and awkward interactions turned into small conversations about interests and they blossomed into what can only be fondness. The road came with its fare-share of bumps, and both of you dived head first in this with only your families in mind, ready to throw away what little freedom both of you had for your parent's satisfaction.

At the wedding ceremony, walls were built. Walls that cracked the more time you spent with each other.

``Y'know, Luffy was announced as an Emperor today.`` You fill in the silence. Knowing Katakuri's favorite topic you slide in the information.

Katakuri stops mid-changing and raises his head at that. He had told you about Luffy a couple of weeks ago, finally emptying his head to you about the topic he was trying to tell you the moment he returned to your room injured. You didn't push him back then.

The time will come when he'll bring it up. You would tell yourself. It's his calculations of reactions that hold him, little insecurities eating him up and even if the conversation was late, you are happy that he was finally opening up. To you at least.

``Is that so?``

``Yeah, it was in today's newspaper. It said he defeated Kaidou, impressive huh?``

You watch as he nods his head. You debate for a second if you should tell him the next sentence, but he is her son, after all, today he dedicated himself to the library (A time he cherishes since it happens so rarely. A battle with the Straw Hat sure tired him out. You wonder if it's a blessing in disguise sometimes. If it is you wouldn't be surprised.) and judging from his lack of knowledge about the feat Luffy accomplished, you might as well tell him now...

``Surgeon of Death and The Eustass kid from the Worst Generation were involved... They defeated Big Mom.`` At that, you can feel how the temperature drops in the room, his movements to put the clothes back in their place slowed down until they came to a stop. It almost felt like time had stopped.

``I've heard about that. All the commotion in the palace this morning was from Perospero's call. They needed a backup to retrieve them.`` He says as the heavyweight is lifted off the room, letting go of the fabric he was holding onto, the time begins to roll once again.

You don't bat an eye at Katakuri's actions and his casualness. You doubt he would mourn his mother.

You quiver as the blanket is thrown off of you, the chill biting your arms and chest before he joins you on the bed. You fix your body position as the natural warmth his body carries sends shivers down your spine. Your back facing his chest as his giant hand creeps up to cradle your waist.

You shy away or try to. But the moment his fingers softly graze your pelvis, a tight knot starts developing, his shy yet soothing and careful touches sending the blood up to your face.

He's mindful of his heaviness, even if you are taller than a human should be, more tolerant and powerful, he treats you the same as he would to his child siblings, with feather-light touches. It's instinct at this point. It makes you nervous. Makes you red and sad, as well as happy that he also wasn't the only one with bad habits.

Habits that differentiate you two are rare. Since most of them are dependent on higher-than-an-average-human height.

``Is this okay?`` his open eyes travel over your face devoid of any skin color except red. You nod.

``...May I?`` The awkwardness in his voice is precious. Sweet as a mochi should be. Not how a monster's should be.

It makes your heart skip a beat and your core to pulse.

The impatience takes over when he's leaving lingering touches closer and closer to where you would like the itchiness to go away. The temptation to grab his hand and drag it to your genitalia is strong. Biting the bottom lip you feel his hand cup your crotch, and it's a feeling you'll never get tired of.

He shoves the gown's bottom piece up to your belly button, getting the cue you grab the (F/C) silky cloth. It's tacky but it was one of the more subtle ones that Brûlée has picked for you.

You shift your left thigh to the side when the tips of his finger flex on top of your clitoris, a thin layer of fabric stopping him from intruding, yet he is still making you pulse and drowning you in the electric shock of pleasure. The fingers slowly run over it, again and again putting no pressure behind the movement.

When his right-hand digs behind your back, your flushed face barely turns around to ask him what he is doing.

``Changing position...`` Katakuri says as he carefully scoops your neck between his forearm and upper arm, his left hand grabs onto your right hip.

His show of strength as he gets you on top of him in a second, leaves your knees shaking. At first, you lay on his chest with your back pressed against him.

Even with your superior height he somehow manages to make you feel as if you were a human, it makes you doubt your reality for a millisecond, his right hand balancing you and the other one going down your body a bit too fast, your suspicions are confirmed by the impatience with which he tosses the blanket off of your bodies. The room temperature now no longer poses a threat to your skin.

This time he isn't as slow with his actions, leaving the undergarments on, he rubs up and down your slit, feeling its warmth escape onto his sweaty hands.

The quiet room was momentarily full of little gasps and beating hearts of both parties. A squeak leaves your mouth as you rise from your position on his chest, leaning on your elbows that are still... On his chest. The coldness that sudden separation brings on your back is forgotten as you look down to where Katakuri is making laps around you. The moisture grows in seconds when he presses his thumb on your clit, slowly rocking it sideways and tightening the knot deep within you.

You try to bite the bottom of your mouth to not let the noises escape but as Katakuri flattens his hand so his index and middle finger are sliding and tickling your entrance, the task to stay quiet becomes very difficult. You feel the way he snakes his second hand up your breasts while the other separates the undergarment from your folds. Little moans sneak past your lips as you look straight down, the bulge that shows from underneath your thighs just makes your heart beat out of your ribcage.

Katakuri lays his forehead on your shoulder as he feels the wetness coating the surroundings of your entrance, he knew the smaller hands were coming before feeling them pull down the owner's panties, momentarily stopping for her to take it off before he continued infiltrating it. His right hand fondling with your breasts squishing them but not rough enough to hurt you.

For a split second, you felt the pain of the stretch, arching your back and tossing your head over his shoulder as Katakuri's other hand played with the silk-covered nipple, he pushed his forehead down on your cleavage, it wasn't in his intentions but the size difference was really making your mind mushy.

You could feel him shaking from below you as you rest on top of him, closed eyes and clean mind absorbing your movements.

For a couple of seconds, you lay like that, panting breathes and already sweat covered. He won't move. He won't hurt you. He'll give you time to adjust.

Your hand lands on his crimson hair, fingers run through the short pink layers devoid of grey. It startles him, eyes snapping open he looks to his left shoulder where you are resting your head and meets his beloved's smiling face staring back at him.

Pink dusted his cheeks and as his heart jumped, his mouth opened and closed, this nervous feeling is shameful to him. The big brother Katakuri was still getting used to his new-not-so-new feelings towards new-not-so-new his wife, and expressing them to her face turned out to be the most complicated and difficult part. (Aside from Brûlée, she has seen him at his worst. It's a new feeling, a new type of embarrassment he hasn't experienced with anyone, not even Brûlée. The thought of this ever getting out almost frightens him. It frightens him.)

At last, he chooses to look away as you chuckle.

``C-can you move now?`` He nearly forgot.

``Are you... Sure?``

``Yeah, now c'mon... I was so close...``

He continues his motions with soft pink shades over his face, and slowly the two fingers slide deeper into your gummy walls. The clenching makes him wish it was some other part of his inside of you instead of his fingers. He listens as hisses leave your lips from the painfully nice stretch, the tears gathering at the corner of your eyes being wiped away by Katakuri's other hand that took a break from playing with your breasts, he feels his boxer get tighter when your legs shake around his massive thighs, for a second he feels glad that you aren't super tiny, it makes this feel like the first time both of you did it. It holds a special place in his heart, the lovely touches have never been that satisfying. And every time you take your time to show affection to him during it- he falls further and further in love with you. Even if he doesn't show it, or return them, he appreciates the gestures.

He knows it's time to start the actions of love and that you would certainly never reject it. It's the childish fear keeping his head and eyes locked away during them. Is he shy? Maybe. Does he wan't to return the gesture? Some would think that he doesn't.

The whimpering noises fill his head as he finally went in knuckle deep, he lifts his head from your cleavage and brings your face closer for a kiss, eating the deep moan that leaves your mouth when he pulls out his finger and pushes it back into the warmth. Watching with open eyes how your eyebrows point up in pleasure twisting into a lustful picture he'll love for the rest of his life. The fact that he is the only one who's allowed to see it makes his head dizzy with what other expressions he could steal from you.

He slowly fastens his pace, making and leaving your walls a mess before he gets back in and fixes it with his fingers, finding that spongey spot was easy, having it memorized Katakuri curves his fingers upwards and pistons into it, barely taking his fingers out.

One after another lustful noises (now louder than ever) escape before you can bite your tongue. At some point, drool started coming out of your mouth. Eyes closed you can feel how Katakuri milked your sweet spot brutally, making your cunt weep and sting oh so impossibly delightfully.

His hand and your thights are all wet now.

``Just aah little m-more...!``

You were so close. So incredibly close.

The moment Katakuri forced his hand to dig deeper in your cunt, to get past the line of his knuckles, and pushed upwards into your belly, forcing you to arch for him harder was the moment you were seeing stars.

Your closed eyes were going into your head and your wide mouth was slack as he held your hip with one hand and rubbed your clit faster than ever with the other one. Throwing you off the edge and finally loosening the knot that was tied at the start, slick now not-so-unclear dribs down your slit, he doesn't let you have a break, hand still accompanying you even after your orgasm.

You don't complain.

He slowly pushes your pelvis down with his forearm to meet his hips, not slowing his fast-paced rubbing. Your moans are now as free as they can be, but you limit yourself, wanting to hear little grunts and deep slow moans from Katakuri. You honestly think you could cum from his voice alone.

He's beautiful you think.

His eyes are closed, the furrowing thin eyebrows holding onto the sweat drops that are covering his face in a thin layer of gloss. His eyes are closed yet he seems so concentrated to make you cum again. The vein in his forehead is on full display for you. His naturally long eyelashes adorned his hooded eyes.

``You're Beau...tiful... Kata...``

The way he hides his mouth in your cleavage and not in your shoulder because of his big size, the way he is avoiding eye contact the moment you whispered those two words. The way your heart shattered, is like no other pain you've felt. Because this boy is so... So incredibly sad. You want to kiss the pain away, the worries to be crushed under your tall figure. You want to shield him because he deserved so much more than this family.

``Sooo pretty... C-can you look...at me?`` Exhausted, you reach out.

You don't pay attention to the second orgasm, too busy complimenting him about his beauty. You miss how he is rutting his clothed hips right on your naked ass. You don't miss how he turns his face to the opposite side from you, you don't miss the red-colored ears as you hug his neck. Biting his ears as you are getting closer yet again. You notice how he's gone quiet the moment you praised him. How he is listening to your moans right in his ear.

Suddenly he crashes his hips into you, stinging sensations of him losing grip on his strength lays mockingly on the prints he has branded on both sides of your hips. Even if you were drowning in an indescribable pleasure you didn't miss the way he threw his head back, he almost roars a held-back-moan as wetness spreads on your ass. You don't have to look down to know that both of you guys's cum is wetting the sheets below.

Did he cum by pleasuring you?

Shit... That's so... Hot.

You've known there were ten million ways to love somebody and this. This was one of them.

Katakuri relaxes on the pillow behind him, coming down from the high he tossed both of you in, your arms still around his neck. He opens his eyes looking down at your face, It's a mess really, with sweat and hair sticking on your forehead, swollen lips from the previous kiss (he spends extra seconds looking and feeling the breasts resting against his own skin) but it doesn't matter to him, all he sees are the fruits of his labor. He finally removes his hands from your hips, his gaze falling on a now-covered-by-your-nightgown spot.

Did he leave a mark?

A giggle escapes from your lips before you can stop it, earning a playful glare from his direction. What's so funny?

``Aha-I'm sorry, it's just. You're so red!`` He looks through you, unfocusing his eyes before turning his (now red from embarrassment) face away from you.

You rub your cheek against him, feeling the stitch scars that lead to his mouth hole.

``Awh! C'mon don't hide from me!``

``...You're getting brave (Y/N)...``

``I don't have to be brave to call my husband beautiful and handsome! Plus you're so cute right now!``

``I'm not cute...``

``Sure you're not.`` You're pushing it. You are sure as hell not sure where this confidence came from but you aren't complaining.

Putting your hand under his chin and turning his face toward you.

His eyes settle on your lips before you pull yourself up to make your (S/C) lips land on his monstrous mouth. Like a beast, he doesn't close his eyes, unlike you.

Yet again choosing to make up for the time he closed his eyes during the sex. Staring into your wet eyelashes.

His left arm drags you so impossibly closer to his chest, in a hug while his other hand puts a strand of (H/C) hair back over your ear. When you try to pull away he follows your lips down. Cherishing the strawberry residue that the lipstick left.

A couple of moments last of you two in a romantic kiss before it turns into playful pecks across each other faces. Katakuri was careful with his fangs, still getting used to having someone get as close as he was to the white knives. He calls them and judging from the sharpness you can't exactly call him wrong.

It lasts like that for more than necessary. The sweet touches turned harsh from him is a normal feeling for you, pain tolerance is one of your specialties. It's in your blood. There is nothing he could do from the outside that could hurt you. From the inside, it's a different story.

It's the reason why Charlotte Linlin chose you to be the bride for her second son.

``He's a monster in humans skin,`` She said.

``Better have that scarf around you at all times Katakuri, don't frighten the soon-to-be bride.``  She said at one of the tea parties she had invited your family over.

It was humiliating for him to hear those words, let alone in front of a different kingdom's royal family. Those words were enough for you to have an opinion set on Big Mom.

And Katakuri too. It was respect, you respected him for putting up with people like his mother daily. Another thing to add in the similarities chart besides the height.

``Don't you think your genetic powers would make lovely children for my boy here darling? Wouldn't that be wonderful?``

You pity the children you have to give birth to. Because you know it will happen.

Her piercing gaze and a change in tone was the only reason you nodded your head. It was how the entire party went actually, with you acting like one of Big Mom's homies. Bobbing your head to every compliment she would say about you and your powers.

Maybe that's what left a sour taste in Katakuri's mouth. Why he avoided you for a couple of months after the wedding, he probably saw you as a fragile bimbo who was swayed by fear.

You would hate to say it but the truth is always hard to swallow.

It was what you were before the wedding and after. No doubt about that. The fear of upsetting a bomb that was Big Mom terrified you to your core. You could take Katakuri ignoring and avoiding you but you could never say no to them, the strings she had on your family were too tightly tied around their necks to risk it. Not to mention the thousands of people's lives each of your family member represented.

``The more you fuck around the more you're gonna find out`` As your diplomat father would say in all kinds of situations. It's just that in this instance it wasn't comedic.

It was a psychological thriller. And fucking around you couldn't.

It was a sad start to your relationship with him, an unwanted marriage both of you were against at first, maybe in another lifetime one of you would have had a voice to protest it. But for now, you enjoy the soft embrace of his arms around your shoulders. A loud banging of his heart against your ear.

The chill of the aftermath leaving your body and replacing it with a sticky feeling between your crotch and the smell of sex that wasn't visible at the time.

``Well then, don't you want to clean yourself up?``

``No, I don't.``

``W-why not?`` Usually, Katakuri loves his cleanliness, organization, and tidiness. He showers after coming home, often he's the one running to the bathroom with towels in his hands before you can even process that you've arrived home.

``...I just don't want this to end.``

``... You...`` And you thought Katakuri had run out of his surprise factor. It makes you want to toss your feet in the air with tiny kicks, giggles and everything, it makes you blush.

Seriously? Why are you acting like a schoolgirl with a crush on her upperclassmen?! Have you lost all your marbles in you, woman?! Where is the royal blood?!

You can practically feel the inner, secondary or tiny voice in your head yelling at you.

``Y... You do...?`` Unbelievable.

A nod from him is all you need.

``Y'know, we don't... Have to end it...``

``What?`` God his obliviousness makes you want to strangle him.

``We can... Continue it instead...I-i mean... If you... Want..?`` You run your index finger over his chest, tracing the tattoo with half-lidded eyes and lips in a kissing position. If this isn't lustfull, you don't know what is.

``...``

``...``

``... We can?`` His shocked eyes leave you once again, speechless.

``Of... Of course, we can! If you have any energy left that is... What made you think that we couldn't..?``

Sex is something that rarely happens between you and him since both of you most of the time are sent out for missions separately, however, If your memories aren't lying to you there are a total of four times (not counting this one) that you guys have slept together. How many times did he want to cuddle after sex? 2 times? 3 times?

Such a bad wife you've been to him.

WHAT DON'T THINK LIKE THAT!

Your questions go unanswered. Instead, he gently turns you onto your back, his hands balancing himself like a pole, they shut off your field of vision 'till you can't look anywhere instead up.

And up you look.

You think it's a sight any fair lady would go feral over. So what if you've seen this many times before, it never fails to make you nervous, the confidence dripping off of him, even if shaky eyesight proves just how unconfident he is.

Swoon over him you do.

The feeling you got at the start of the night coming back ten times stronger and filling up your heart until it's back to the pace it was before, this time maybe even shaking sideways for dramatic or. romantic effect.

Your breathing quickens as his head follows his body that was leaning on his thighs which were usually heavy with accessories of any kind, mostly following his gothic style with minor changes. Now he stands on top of your legs with his free-of-any-weight ones, caging yours with his knees. He has a charm in the way he travels his hand down on your skin, giant fingers ghosting over the most sensitive of places. The size difference isn't much but staring at your squished thighs and comparing it to the thickness of his knees makes your breath hitch, gulping you look up towards his face.

Katakuri's sharp crimson eyes glimmer down at you.

He had never once failed to make you feel so unbelievably small under his gaze, you find this exact moment perfect to take off your sticky nightgown that's wet with substances from both of your bodies. It turns out to be a good hiding device for your face, too bad it only lasts a couple of seconds before Katakuri gets suspicious.

Once over your head, you toss the (F/C) fabric somewhere on the floor. Presenting your fully naked body to him.

You don't know when or how he got the boxer off, but he now stands in all of his glory. One would think he was flexing his muscles, and he was. With how heavily Katakuri was breathing, you would have run your fingers up his tattoo if he didn't grab your legs first, taking them out of his leg jail, it was an awkward struggle to pull them over his thighs but he managed to not stretch it out for too long.

It felt so right, you against him fitting like puzzle pieces, your warm legs clinging onto his hips that are the perfect fit for your long legs.

It's your fantasy coming to life and so is his.

Katakuri pulls your hips near his pelvis to get you in a comfortable position. His fingers play with your now relaxed entrance. His other hand strokes his sex in front of you.

Shyness is thrown out of the window.

``I'll... Be slow.`` He always says that. But he can not help the roughness come into play the moment you get used to having him inside you.

You shiver as his head presses against your folds, hiss as it's slowly getting past the cold surface and into the warmth your insides bring. You hear him let out a grunt of his own. The shakiness of his hands on your hips calms the arch your back has been put into.

Katakuri pushes in with slow motions.

He tries to distract you will little strokes up and down your arched back.

You try to not tense up, you really do, but his fingers weren't enough for you to have been ready for his cock. It has that extra length and thickness his fingers weren't capable of having.

The sting leaves you panting and watery-eyed.

Katakuri looks down at you, completely stopping his actions when the walls around his girth close his pathway to bliss.

He lets you relax and adjust to his length. Looking at your face when you wipe your not-yet-spilled tears. Feeling the walls grip and loosen around him makes him close his eyes, ignoring the sparks of pleasure that are signaling him to just rut into you. He turns his face back to you, opening his eyes.

Katakuri doesn't ask you to relax, he knows you're already doing that and he knows you'll signal him to move onward, there is no need to remind you of what's obvious. So he stays quiet, humming and touching you elsewhere across your body, a gentleness he didn't know was capable of, coming forward and dripping honey over your pain, sugarcoating it with his lips that are kissing up your neck.

You put your hands over his shoulders, feeling the pain go away only for it to be replaced by numbness. calming down you nod your head against his scarred cheek.

``You can go on... Now.`` And he does. Slowly and surely with the help of the previous round. He bottoms out.

Your walls surround him, while his grunts surround your head. Both of you stay still for a moment, him going back to kissing your shoulder while you hug his neck, lost in ecstasy.

The world is summed down to only him and you, even if you are running your eyes on the walls of the room, you're still breathing in his leftover cotton cologne, lingering on his skin for just a bit longer.

He starts moving, god he starts moving.

Rocking into you slower than ever, stickiness in your crotch area goes unnoticed. The feeling of him moving and dragging the pleasure away only for him to slide back in, adding the rubbing against your clit with his shortened pubes is soul-shattering in a pleasing way, making your brain mush and your mouth full of unholy sounds.

Sweat dribbles down the side of his face still buried in your shoulder. He is not a man who leaves hickeys. Even though It's impossible since he can't exactly hurt you, although he enjoys leaving marks with anything else, they don't last long, only a couple of minutes before it's back to the way your skin was. But he likes having your signatures on his back especially since that's the only place covered by his jacket in the public.

Even now you leave tiny trails with your nails on his back, not strong enough to break the skin but just enough for them to look like a part of his tattoo gone wild. it just sums up more blood on the southern side of his body, getting him harder than he was before.

It's too much for you when he starts setting a fast pace, his hips meeting yours midway through your grinding, it's too much you tell yourself.

The way he is holding his wide torso with his elbows right beside your shoulders since you didn't let go of his neck since you grabbed it. You feel silly, sticking yourself onto him this way but he doesn't have any complaints. Even if it's too much how you cum yet again with shaky legs and slick dripping down your crack and onto your arched back. Too much of him rocking into you. The mattress below you squicking and rocking with his thrusts. Not only the mattress, but his thrusts also drag your entire body with him, meeting him halfway through his pulling. Too much moaning coming from your side, it's too good.

Too good to tell him to stop.

You can't tell when you came again, the shakiness is blending in with his hips crashing into yours, and you can't tell what is your natural body's doing and what is Katakuri making your body do.

Him finding the sweet spot was the last thing you wanted him to do. You wanted him to find it.

But judging from the electricity hitting you full force again and again and again, making you cry out in all kinds of movements to push him away, you can't be sure.

Katakuri takes advantage of your vulnerability and pulls you away from him so you could relax on the light pink pillow almost swallowing you whole. Allowing him to thrust at a slightly different angle, an angle that also relieves tension from your back.

He straightens himself, now standing on his knees as he looks down at where your bodies are connected, he lands his hands on your hips setting an almost inhuman pace you aren't able to keep up with.

Not with your body and not with your mind.

He pays no attention to your face, you've had enough of that before. Instead, he watches as his hands slam your hips to him, and your poor clit swollen and sad, lies helplessly. Taking him with no problems.

``A-ah little more..`` he moans out. You want to cry at how much he wants to drag this out.

You can tell by the way his hips stutter before calming down completely, going back to the slow pace he did at the beginning.

It's too much.

``Katah-kuri, please!-`` Your voice cuts off by a scream that left your mouth when he slammed his hips back into you unexpectedly.

You can hear him chuckle lightly at your trembling figure lying under him.

It's like he is teasing you and himself.

Tears drip down your face as he repeats it a few times more, before grinding his pelvis when fully entering you cleanly. Your abused cunt beats against the few pubes it has stuck in the wetness surrounding it.

He doesn't let your wobbly legs slide down his thighs, holding them harshly and not letting your bottom parts get away from him.

You can feel it before it comes. The way a vein in his dick starts pulsing and throbbing. Filling your insides to the brim.

You don't look down, instead, you pay attention to Katakuri's Addams apple bobbing up and down in his thick throat accompanied by sweat drops, the way his heavy jaw comes up and down, and the way his eyes are closed and tensed as are his eyebrows. How the other shoulder free of any tattoo (one which you were previously gnawing on) is red colored. It's shiny with spit, tears, and sweat.

It's as far as you get before your heart finally calms down, forcing your eyes to close and your body to pass out, exhaustion finally catching up to you. The last thing you see is a blurry figure of Katakuri looking down at you.

His worried voice calls out to you.

And here you thought you could endure a monster's sweet voice.

[bosbas]

Alternate Ending: I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs

series masterlist original ending || next part

pairing: benedict bridgerton x best friend!fem!reader, anthony bridgerton x wife!reader WC: 5.2k words (whoops I got carried away)

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love being idiots in love, benedict being so down bad for this woman, unrequited love, pregnancy and discussions around pregnancy/birth

Summary: You and Benedict have been best friends since childhood, but things change dramatically once you come out in society. You’re struggling to find someone you’re as compatible with and who knows you as well as Benedict, all while trying to quell your ever-growing feelings for him. Shenanigans ensue.

A/N: The timeline for this ending diverges after chapter 12!! This is how life would look like if Chapter 13 and onward didn't happen.

March 3, 1820 - B, 

I apologize for my delayed response – I’m sure you’ll understand that I was a tad occupied giving birth. But she’s finally here! It was easier than the other three, so I'm personally delighted, though Anthony seemed just as stressed as usual. And, as usual, he'll most likely be resting for the next five days. If he ever stops looking at her in awe, that is. It would be quite adorable if I didn't need to wrestle her away from him to nurse her every few hours! 

Although, I will say that Anthony being taken with her has worked out quite well for me. I was able to finish my novel and get a full night's sleep last night. I'd love to see you soon if you're up for it. You can meet her and we can discuss your latest painting, which I heard was absolutely breathtaking. Anthony and I will both be home for the next week at least, so feel free to pop by any time.

Yours, Y/I

You finished addressing the envelope to Benedict right as Anthony walked into your bedroom holding the tiny form of your newborn daughter. Twisting in your seat to face them, you cooed when you saw her fast asleep in his arms. She was wrapped in a soft pink blanket, and you couldn’t help but marvel at her tiny fists opening and closing absentmindedly as she slept. She looked so peaceful in Anthony’s arms, and it was terrifying to think that a human being this small would grow up to be an adult and that you would have to guide her through it. Well, she would have Anthony too, you thought. And the thought did a lot to quell your fears.

For as long as you had known him, Anthony had been a steadfast figure in your life. He’d been the eldest of the Beaumont-Bridgertons, and he certainly acted like it, too. The responsibility he felt for his family was evident in everything he did, and it was one of the qualities you admired most about him. Now, seeing Anthony cradle your newborn daughter with such gentleness and awe only solidified your feelings for him.

You had decidedly not been in love when you had married him, but one couldn’t simply have four children with someone and not develop at least a little affection for them. The two of you had been wonderful friends even before you were married, and you still were, but along the way, it seemed that you had learned to love each other in your own funny sort of way. It wasn’t the sort of all-consuming love you had for Benedict all those years ago, and that perhaps you had still in a corner of your heart. But it was comforting and safe and built upon a deep respect for one another, and your life was all the better for it. 

Perhaps you and Ben had never been destined for a life like this, you thought. Your childhood intention to wed Benedict had been just that: a naïve plan. That night in the studio with Benedict, after he had found out in the most unfortunate manner that you and Anthony were courting, you had needed something safe and constant. And Benedict had given you the complete opposite. For so many years, he had been your anchor, but that night you felt like the ground had fallen away below your feet and you were in free fall. You had so much love for Benedict that you didn’t even know where to put it. You could feel it from your heart to your fingertips, and it was terrifying. You thought about Violet and Edmund in that moment, and how destroyed Violet had been when Edmund passed. The thought of that happening to you and Benedict made you sick. The thought of taking the risk and putting your heart in his hands only for it to crumble. 

Maybe running away from Benedict at that moment was the cowardly thing to do. Maybe you should have faced your fears and given in to the overpowering love. Maybe you should have kissed your best friend and dealt with the consequences later, holding his hand the whole way through. But you hadn’t. You had sought out safety instead, running up the stairs to Anthony’s room and knocking incessantly until he opened the door, eyes startled and hand holding a handkerchief to his cut lip.

“We’re getting married,” you had declared, breathing ragged and arms crossed tightly over your chest. 

“Who’s ‘we’?” he asked, hoping you meant you and Benedict but suspecting otherwise given that you were currently at his door looking furious. 

“You and me. And we’re going to do it as soon as possible.”

Anthony uttered a soft, “Oh.” He didn’t know what else to say. “And Benedict…” he added in a questioning tone.

“No,” you said firmly. “No Benedict.”

He had expected you to say more, but you just stood in front of him, unmoving. 

“I suppose I can start the arrangements,” Anthony said finally. “If you’re sure this is what you want.”

“I am sure.” 

God, Benedict must have truly done something stupid, he thought. “Very well, then.”

“Good night, Anthony. We can inform our families of our engagement tomorrow morning.”

He just nodded in response, still too stunned to fully process your words.

You cleared your throat and your stoic façade faded slightly. “And thank you, Anthony. For everything,” you said, suddenly very aware of what being married to Anthony might mean.

He shook his head. “No, no. It was nothing. You are family.”

A month later, you were married at the church near Aubrey Hall. Benedict barely stayed long enough to see the two of you say your vows, citing an urgent problem with his cottage in the countryside. His family was kind enough not to question his obviously fabricated excuse, but he couldn’t miss the endless looks of pity sent his way. He had been hurt. Well, you had hurt him. You hurt him when you walked away from him, and you hurt him when you announced your engagement to your family without telling him first, but most of all, you hurt him when you chose Anthony even after two decades of history with Benedict. 

Maybe none of your fears would have come true, and you and Ben would have been happy. Maybe he would have treated your heart with the same love and care with which he always treated you. But it didn’t do to dwell on what could have been. Your marriage with Anthony was real. It was concrete and it was grounding, and you couldn’t imagine a more stable presence in your life.

Bringing you out of your musings, you felt Anthony kiss your cheek in greeting and ask, “Do you want to take her?”

You nodded eagerly, setting down the letter in your hand so you could hold your daughter. “I’m surprised you’re willingly letting me have her,” you teased, laughing as Anthony all but collapsed onto the loveseat across from you, clearly exhausted.

He had been an awfully attentive father the past few days, ecstatic to finally have a girl after three boys. Though she had brought out a heightened sense of protectiveness he couldn’t seem to shake. It was rather endearing to see him so frazzled over a baby that weighed less than eight pounds, but you suspected there might be something more to it.

“She’s so tiny!” he defended, gaze fixed on her admittedly minuscule form in your arms. “I can’t help it…” He trailed off, deep in thought. You glanced up at him, noticing the change in his tone and his hunched posture. After five years of marriage, you had him memorized, and reading him came as naturally as reading a book. 

“Is anything the matter?” you asked gently, already having a general idea about what was plaguing him.

But he shook his head, murmuring a soft no and focusing on the writing desk behind you instead. “Is that for Benedict?” he inquired, nodding in the direction of the letter.

“Yes, I’m just telling him that she’s here and asking him to come visit,” you answered, still eyeing him carefully.

“So, he’s coming to visit, then?” pressed Anthony, eyes back on your daughter, who was currently sleeping soundly in your arms.

“Well, I don’t see why he wouldn’t. Why do you ask?” You changed tactics, trying to seem nonchalant about your concern. 

“Alright. That’s good. Yes, that’s good,” he muttered, seemingly satisfied with your answer but his mind was obviously miles away. 

Growing increasingly worried, you stood up and carefully laid your daughter in her crib, ensuring she remained undisturbed. With her settled, you approached Anthony, who hadn't shifted his gaze from where you had been sitting. Kneeling beside him, you reached out and gingerly placed your hand on his. The touch seemed to quiet his restless thoughts, and he turned to meet your eyes, acknowledging the weight of his anxiety.

Anthony spoke softly, carefully. “I just want to make sure that you and the children are taken care of. In case something happens to me. I want you to have someone.”

You should have known that this was what plagued him. During the first year of your marriage, you settled into a comfortable dynamic with Anthony. It was not quite love, but something like it had blossomed between the two of you. However, it was after the birth of your first son, Arthur, that Anthony reached a breaking point. He realized that his grand plan to marry someone he didn’t love to avoid any undue heartbreak was not, in fact, foolproof. Even if there hadn’t been growing affection between you, Anthony completely fell in love with Arthur from the moment he was born. It was like nothing he’d experienced before; beyond anything he could have imagined. And it was terribly frightening. 

He had shared his fears with you–he’d had no choice in the matter when you were as stubborn and insistent as you were–and you had shared that you, too, were scared. But you trusted one another, and so the two of you navigated parenthood in tandem and Anthony’s fears subsided. Regardless, you could understand that the birth of your daughter brought back this fear in full force, and he felt a greater need to protect her from danger than he would with his sons.

“Anthony, I won’t need someone. You’re right here, and you always will be.”

He shook his head, looking at you with desperation in his eyes. “How can you know that?”

You pursed your lips, brows furrowing. “Even if you aren’t, it won’t be your fault. You’re a wonderful father. And a wonderful husband.” 

With a deep sigh, he clasped your hand and stood up, bringing you with him. “Just promise me you’ll ask Benedict to take care of you if I go?”

Your heart softened. Knowing he needed to hear you say it out loud, you nodded, “I promise.”

---

 March 5, 1820 – Y/I,

One would think Anthony had been the one to give birth instead of you! I’ll pop by today to give him a talking-to. And to meet my lovely niece, of course.

Yours, B

You found yourself in the nursery this afternoon, your three boys gathered around you and your daughter fast asleep in her crib. It was a lovely day out; sunny but not too hot, but the boys hardly noticed. Instead, they sat still, completely enthralled as you read from your current novel. Though you adored reading to your children, you found children’s books rather boring and repetitive. Thus, you had shifted to reading them excerpts from your own reading material. It made the endeavor much more interesting, and the boys seemed to love it too, evident as they hung on your every word.

“‘Listen to me, Frankenstein. You accuse me of murder,’” you read, and your sons gasped, not quite understanding the meaning of the word but easily catching onto your surprised reaction. You continued, “‘and yet you would, with a satisfied conscience, destroy your own creature. Oh, praise the eternal justice of man! Yet I ask-’”

“Surely I’ve heard wrong and you’re not reading to your children about murder!” came Benedict’s voice from the doorway. 

Immediately, three voices squealed in delight and Frankenstein was completely forgotten as your sons rushed over to their uncle. Charles was only one year old, but his brothers’ excitement only fueled his clumsy crawl toward Benedict’s waiting arms.

“They don’t exactly know what it means, Ben,” you laughed. “Besides, it’s wonderful literature. And it keeps them entertained.”

He picked up Charles in one arm and Arthur in the other, making his way over to you as Bernard clung to his leg. “Well, I’m sure you know better than me, darling,” he commented and kissed you sweetly on the top of your head. 

“Isn’t that usually the case?” you teased, standing up to properly greet your best friend. Though you hadn’t joined the welcome committee, you were positively glowing now that Ben had arrived. It had been over a week since you had seen him, and you had missed him terribly. You smiled brightly, instantly at ease in his presence.

Eyebrows raised and eyes shining with mirth, he teased back, “You forget I have three very bloodthirsty boys on my side who have just learned what murder is.”

You looked at Arthur, who was completely focused on attempting to undo Benedict’s cravat, and Charles, who had two fingers in his mouth and was unsuccessfully attempting to put in a third, then glanced back at Benedict. 

“Quite bloodthirsty, aren’t they?” you deadpanned as you gently pried Charles’ hand from his mouth. 

Ben couldn’t help the waves of laughter rolling off him as he observed your sons. “It seems they still have a way to go before they get there.” 

Then, spotting the pink crib across the room, he gasped and set down Arthur and Charles and somewhat successfully shook Bernard off his leg. Walking over to the crib, he stared at her, completely awestruck.

"She’s so tiny!” he exclaimed, careful to keep his voice down so as not to wake her.

You giggled, making your way over. “That’s exactly what Anthony said,” you smiled at him. 

But your smile did nothing to soothe the dull ache that had blossomed in his chest as he remembered all the things he could have had with you. The pain was not as unbearable now as it had been five years ago, but he was inclined to think that it would be there for the rest of his life. In the back of his mind, Benedict wondered if he would have been as good of a father as Anthony. He supposed he would never know, having devoted himself completely to his art and extinguishing any lingering hopes Violet had that her second son would ever marry. But you seemed happy, and that was truly all that mattered. 

Ignoring the pain in his chest, he smiled sweetly back down at you. “What’s her name? Something starting with a D, I’m sure. Otherwise, Anthony will have lost his mind.”

“Yes, naturally,” you giggled. You tugged on Ben’s sleeve to bring him closer to the crib. “Benedict, meet Diana Bridgerton.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Bridgerton,” he murmured, intently observing your daughter as she slowly blinked her eyes open. 

“Quite eager to meet her uncle,” you observed, but Benedict was too mesmerized by her to respond properly.

“She’s got your eyes,” he whispered after a few seconds, turning back to you and placing an arm around you. Your arm snaked around his back, and you drew him in a little closer.

Leaning down to place his cheek on your head and hugging you tighter, he spoke softly, “I thought you might name her Daisy. Flower names and all that. Besides, it starts with a D.”

Benedict didn’t quite know where the comment had come from. You hadn’t mentioned flower names in years, but the thought had suddenly popped into his brain quite unexpectedly and he had been unable to stop the words coming out of his mouth. He knew he was so incredibly lucky to know you and to love you and to have a friendship with you, but it was at times like these when he wished he didn’t know you quite so well. At times when knowing you was only a reminder of what he lost.

In that moment, you were thankful to be facing Diana’s crib instead of Benedict, because you could feel the tears prickling at your eyes. The flower names. Of course Benedict would have remembered. You had never truly regretted marrying Anthony, but what you had with Ben transcended anything you could ever have with anyone else, and sometimes it was hard to come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t your person anymore.

Shaking your head to will the tears away, you responded, “No. No, I could never.”

“What? You always said you wanted to name your children flower names.”

“No, Benedict. I wanted to name our children flower names.”

He felt all the air in his lungs escaping all at once. It felt as if someone had reached deep inside of him, taken hold of every organ inside his body, and squeezed very tightly. Wanted to name our children. Our children. Our. Just a simple word, three letters in total, had managed to leave him completely disarmed. 

It was silly, really. You were married and had four children with his brother, of all people. And Benedict was still completely and irrevocably in love with you. He rather thought that he would always love you, in some form or another. Benedict suspected that Anthony knew this too, though his older brother was far too tactful to ever broach the subject. 

Seemingly unaware of Ben's internal turmoil as he tried to reduce his feelings to their usual dormant state, you grabbed hold of his hand and led him away from Diana toward the door. “Nurse Edwards can watch the children while we go downstairs to have some tea. I must hear about your painting displayed at the National Gallery! I wish I hadn’t been about two days from bursting so I could have gone to see the unveiling.”

---

November 17, 1820 – Benedict,

Y/N has fallen ill, and I am away on business unable to tend to her. Go to Aubrey Hall as soon as possible and make sure she’s alright.

Please.

Anthony

Benedict could barely hear the rain pouring down outside his carriage over his racing heartbeat. Anthony’s frantic note had left Ben in a state of panic. He had left for Aubrey Hall immediately upon receiving the note, but he still worried that he might be too late. What on earth had frightened his older brother to the point of asking Benedict for help? A million possibilities, each one as devastating as the other, raced through his mind. 

The sight of your home interrupted his catastrophizing, and he swung the door open and ran toward the entrance before the carriage could come to a complete stop. Benedict was somewhat aware that he was getting completely drenched in the rain, but his mind was far too focused on getting to you to care. 

The front door was already open when he reached it, and Benedict burst through, barely hearing the butler’s, “Upstairs in her bedchamber, Mr Bridgerton,” before he was frantically climbing the stairs to get to you. 

Once he reached your door, Ben stopped quite suddenly. He didn’t want to startle you by bursting in unannounced, so he waited a few seconds to catch his breath. Finally, he turned the doorknob slowly, hands shaking nervously as he entered your bedroom. 

In between shockingly vivid dreams and a splitting headache, you vaguely registered what looked to be Benedict’s tall frame standing in your room. You shook your head, confused by his presence and not quite trusting your own eyes, but the effort left you breathless and you coughed violently. 

“It’s alright, darling. You just rest,” he shushed you, shrugging off his drenched coat before he came to your side. 

It killed him to see you like this, pale and sweaty as shivers wracked through your tired body. He had never seen you look so ill, not even when you came down with influenza when you were ten years old, and he was trying his hardest to hold himself together.

“Have you called for a medic?” his voice came out a bit strangled as he asked your lady’s maid, Rose, who had been nervously fidgeting off to the side. 

"Yes, Mr Bridgerton. It's pneumonia," she said softly, her voice filled with concern. "The best we can do is keep her comfortable and give her fluids until her fever breaks."

He nodded, running his hands through his hair in an attempt to calm down. But you had drifted into fitful sleep, and your shallow, ragged breathing was only making him more worried. 

Nevertheless, he had to think clearly. Anthony was away, meaning that Benedict was now entirely responsible for you. The realization steeled his nerves, so he straightened his waistcoat and released a controlled breath, ready to face whatever came his way.

“Where are the children? I trust Nurse Edwards is with them now,” he said firmly.

Rose nodded. “They’re asleep now, but she is there in case they need anything. They’re taken care of,” she reassured.

“Very well. Please let me know if I can be of any assistance to them.” Then, clearing his throat, “Ring for tea, please,” he instructed. “And bring me towels and a bowl of lukewarm water.”��

She nodded, hurrying out of the room. Benedict moved closer to your bedside, his heart twisting at the sight of you in distress. He didn't hesitate, pulling a chair close to the bed and sitting down beside you. Gently, he reached out to feel your burning forehead, but you immediately flinched, the pain evident in your eyes as they shot open.

“Too cold,” you rasped. “Please don’t.”

He cursed under his breath, heart cracking slightly at your reaction. But he withdrew his hand immediately, settling instead for sitting on a chair next to your bed, watching you intently for any signs that your condition was worsening.

You looked awfully pale, paler than he’d ever seen you, and your lips had turned a concerning shade of purple. Though even when you were drenched in sweat and shivering, you still were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, he thought. Even now, years after you had married another man, you remained his muse. The heartbreak he experienced that summer had been an admittedly excellent source of inspiration, and his new works helped propel him forward in the art world. It had served as a distraction, proving especially useful when Ben heard the news that you were pregnant for the first time so soon after the wedding. But now he supposed that art was no longer a distraction, and had instead become his life. 

Maybe it was better this way, he sometimes thought. Maybe fate had never intended for him to be with you, though he couldn't fathom why the universe seemed so cruel. But the conclusion that he most often came to is that this was some sort of punishment. And he supposed he rather deserved it. He had continuously run away from the person he loved most, his best friend, the love of his life, time and again while you had only waited patiently for him to love you back. 

Looking down at you now, he still felt the need to take care of you. The instinct would never go away. But it was a shame that the only reason he was allowed to do it now was because your husband had asked him to.

Your lady’s maid cleared her throat, standing at the doorway with the items Benedict had requested. He waved her in and had her place the tea on your bedside table, but he took hold of the towels himself and dipped one of them in the bowl of water.

“How long have you been here?” Ben asked Rose, taking in her exhausted appearance.

“Since midmorning, Mr Bridgerton,” she responded, stifling a yawn. "But I'm happy to do it. Lady Bridgerton seems to need it, too."

“Well, I think you ought to go to bed now, Rose,” he responded, gently placing the damp towel on your forehead. You let out a soft sigh of relief, and the tightness in Benedict’s heart loosened the tiniest bit. 

Hearing his words, Rose could have collapsed right then and there. “Thank you, Mr Bridgerton. Please call for one of the servants if you need anything,” she said gratefully. And then, before he could change his mind, she hurried out of your bedroom. 

The towel had seemed to rouse you from your sleep, and you sat up weakly so you could take in your surroundings.

You opened your eyes, happy to find Benedict still in your room. “Hello, there,” you croaked, but he shushed you, immediately holding a teacup to your lips. You took a hesitant sip, but the warm liquid ran down your throat so soothingly that you grasped the cup with your own hands and drank the entire thing. 

Ben laughed softly, delicately taking the teacup from you so as not to touch you, not having forgotten your earlier protests when he placed a hand on your forehead.

“How long have you been here?” you asked Benedict, a particularly strong shiver making your teeth chatter. Noting his look of concern, you rushed to reassure him, “I’m fine, Ben. Promise.” However, you didn’t know how convincing you had sounded, given that you started violently coughing immediately after the words left your lips. 

“I can see that. You look great,” teased Benedict. 

“I bet,” you shot back, and he was unable to keep the fond smile off his face. “I’m–” you started, but another coughing fit prevented you from continuing. He looked at you, eyes overflowing with worry, and exchanged the towel on your forehead for a fresh one, hoping it would provide at least some relief.

Once your coughing fit subsided, you were overtaken by a wave of exhaustion. Sliding back down into bed, you turned to Benedict. “I think I need to sleep if that’s alright,” you said softly, eyes already drooping shut.

“Mmm, I think so, too,” he agreed.

You reached out and grabbed his hand, intertwining your fingers with his and bringing your joined hands to your chest. “Please stay, Ben,” you said, eyes already closed. 

His heart nearly skipped a beat, having completely forgotten just how right your hand felt in his. “Always,” he murmured, reaching over to kiss you on the forehead. Benedict settled into the chair beside your bed, carefully watching you to make sure your breathing remained even. 

An hour later, a particularly intense shiver ran through you and you woke up to find that you were still clutching Benedict’s hand. He was staring at you intently, and you felt an overwhelming sense of tenderness for him. Even though you had married Anthony, he was still here by your side, ensuring that you were safe. Even though you probably looked about two minutes away from death, and even though he probably had much more interesting things to do, he was here.

“I’m sorry, you know,” you whispered, not quite sure you wanted him to hear but needing to say it anyway.

His brow furrowed, not quite sure why you were apologizing. “It’s quite alright.”

“No, I am. I’m so sorry,” you said, barely registering the tears running down your face and mixing with your sweat. 

Ben wiped away your tears with one hand, the other still holding yours. “There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he whispered.

You shook your head and the towel fell from your forehead once again, which he immediately replaced with a new one. “I don’t regret marrying him, but I regret hurting you,” you choked back a sob. “It was cowardly of me, and I’m sorry.”

Benedict was at a loss, your confession bringing his complicated feelings to the surface. But before he could find the right words, you had fallen asleep once again, eyes closed peacefully and your breathing even. He sat back in shock, attempting to process the meaning behind your words while still being careful not to move his hand too much so you could sleep peacefully. 

Benedict sat there for what felt like hours, his mind in a whirlwind of emotions. Guilt weighed heavily on his heart as he watched you sleep, your hand still clasped in his. Surely you were at least a little delirious, he reasoned. How could you apologize for something he had caused?

Hours later, the morning sun filtered through your curtains and you stirred awake. You blinked your eyes open, a bit disoriented as you took in your surroundings. You glanced down, seeing Ben sitting in a chair next to your bed, fast asleep in what looked to be an incredibly uncomfortable position. Your hand was still clasped in Benedict’s, his thumb absently stroking the back of your hand. You felt a pang of guilt at the sight and cringed slightly as you remembered your tearful apology the previous night.

Sensing that you were awake, Benedict stirred, half opening his eyes to make sure you were alright. Wincing as his neck cracked, he sat up and asked groggily, “How’re you feeling this morning, darling?” 

“Much better, actually,” you responded.

A sudden wave of panic washed over you. “Who’s with the children?”

“Don’t worry! They’re alright. Nurse Edwards is with them,” he assured you. “Perhaps it’s for the best; they might get to engage with some books actually meant for children.” He kept his tone light and teasing, not entirely sure if you remembered your apology and not wanting to open up the conversation if you didn’t.

“Oh, thank you,” you sighed in relief, relaxing against your pillows once again. Then, swatting his arm, you scolded, “And they enjoy the literature, mind you!”

“I suppose you are feeling better if you had the strength to hit me,” he remarked amusedly.

You rolled your eyes. “I could have hit you last night. Easily.” But your expression turned sincere. “Thank you for coming. I didn’t mean to be a burden; I know you’re working on a new piece.”

“It’s nothing,” he waved his hand. “You could never be a burden.”

You cleared your throat awkwardly, suddenly looking anywhere but at him. “And I meant what I said last night. It was ill-timed, I know, but I am truly sorry.”

“Nonsense,” he shook his head. “There is nothing to apologize for. I didn’t treat you the way I should have and I was the one who hurt you. I’m just glad I can still have you as a best friend.”

You smiled at him, pulling him into a hug. “We seem to be quite good at that, don’t you think? Being best friends.”

“Oh, the best,” he smiled at you, adoration clear in his eyes.

—

orginal ending || next part || buy me a ko-fi!

Tag List: @bellahadidnt16 @like-gabriel-and-castiel @riverraingrayworld @5sos-calm @elissanatok @titanicnerd-blog @noonenuts @moonwayne @lilasblogg @mmontgomeryb @fulltacoparadise @joyfullymulti @sopanngon @fanfiction-she-wrote @aureolinb @ambitionspassionscoffee @bbubbllejisoo @marvelspogue @avengersgirlloriannaa @loliakeoghan23 @cierrajhilll @sadprose-auroras @merlieve @khaylin27 @cherrytop02 @little-duck @angerpearl @shondlenoodle @lyssamay52 @bags10 @angerpearl

[teddybeartoji]

fem!reader

walking through the door, his eyes immediately start scanning the crowd in search of you. suguru mumbles something about getting drinks and wanders off, leaving bf!gojo to his mission. and then he hears it. his ears perk up at his own personal favourite sound - your laughter. it bounces off the walls, muting every other sound in the room and it makes the corners of his lips twitch upward. god, he can't wait to see you.

and finally.

there you are.

a group of people step aside just in time and it's like something out of a movie. everything is in slow motion and everyone in the background blurs, all except for you. you're facing a friend of yours, not noticing your beloved boyfriend almost having a heart attack, before said friend nudges you toward him. turning around, you greet him with the biggest smile.

satoru feels his heart explode. he's standing there like a fish out of water, his mouth hanging ajar. you look like an angel. the lights are hitting you perfectly, making it seem like you're the only person in the room. finally regaining consciousness over his body, his hand flies to his chest with a big sigh, making you giggle. excusing yourself, you start making your way over to him and his eyes almost pop out of his head. it's like he's seeing you for the first time again.

he keeps his hand over his heart, trying to make sure it stands in it's place and he seems to be speechless. that's a first. there just aren't words good enough to describe you. sure, he can keep calling you his angel but in reality that just won't suffice. he needs to start making up new words for the love of his life. a whole new language just meant for you.

when you're just about two steps away, satoru releases another deep sigh, letting his eyes close and head hang back. you're killing him. you really are. he lolls his head to the side as he looks at you with his one opened eye. if he were to look at you with both of them, his heart would surely give out then and there.

now stood in front of him, with an unwavering smile, you beam at him and his dramatic antics. raising a hand, you brush a stray white hair from in front of his eyes, fingertips gently brushing over his cheek - a pinkish hue now embellishing his face.

satoru stares down at you and all he can think is how fast could he get a wedding ring? is there a store nearby? would it be open at this hour? how silly would it be if he just dropped down to his knee right now? would you say ye--

"you're drooling." you say with a giggle. you're trying to remain cool and calm and collected but in reality, his reaction is making you sick; the butterflies in your stomach are about to burst out of you and you can feel your ears burning. god, you hope he doesn't notice.

he does. how could he not. he's now extremely focused on your current state, how even though you try to keep your eyes on him, they seem to keep flickering down to your fidgety fingers. how even though, a big grin adorns your face, a deep blush creeps up your skin - a hint of shyness poking through.

"a-am not." he nevertheless wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smiling. he takes your small hand into his big one and urges you to do a spin for him. "c'mon, show me."

laughing, you do as he says. still holding onto his hand, you do a full 360 and demonstrate your outfit, making him groan and grasp at his heart once more. do you know what you're doing to him?

"you are ridiculous." he is truly the most dramatic person you know.

"you are the most beautiful girl on the planet." but also the sweetest.

your eyes soften while his are filled with pure admiration. you are the one for him. a comfortable silence falls between you, gazes and fingers locked together. bound together. it's just the two of you in this crowded room.

"thank you." it comes out as a whisper. "you look so handsome." you raise your free hand to trace over his tie and up and over his shirt collar. you can smell his cologne, it's the one you gifted him last year and it warms your heart.

he leans down to your ear and whispers back. "i think i'm having a heart attack."

"you- wait, what?" you pull back at his serious tone but you're still met with just a stupid smirk. "that's not funny, satoru. heart attacks are a serious topic."

"and i am so serious, baby. dead serious." he places your palm over his heart and you feel it strongly thumping in it's cage. "told you."

"maybe it's trying to escape, have you considered that? maybe it's fed up with your antics, hm?" you tease.

"well, maybe it's making it's way over to you, to crawl into your chest, have you considered that? maybe it just wants to stay with you forever, hm?" he quips back.

you flutter your eyelashes at him, trying to find the words to show how much you really truly appreciate him and his silly words. so you take his other hand and bring it to your chest, where he meets your very own pounding heart.

"hm, maybe we should exhange them? you know... maybe they'll calm down?" and it's the seriousness in your voice that really gets him. satoru feels himself turning into putty. it's like he's melting away. you and your touch and your words and your heart - it's all too much for him. his mind goes back to that proposal scenario. he wants you to be his and him to be yours. he does want to exhange hearts.

he leans down to press a chaste kiss on your nose. "i love you." he has said it before but he doesn't tire of it. you need to know.

pressing a kiss on your cheek. "i love you." he says it again. his affection is making laughter bubble in your throat and you don't want this moment to end.

another one on your other cheek. "i love you."

and finally, he presses his soft lips to yours, hands still holding each other's hearts. "wan' to have your heart and wan' you to have mine." he mutters against you.

another silent giggle escapes your lips and falls straight into his mouth. he swallows it proudly. "promise?"

"promise."

[jamdoughnutmagician]

Mr. and Mrs.

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader (18+)

In celebration of @oneforthemunny 's one-derful year, I wrote this fic inspired by this prompt. This fic is a fic of two halves, with an initial cute wedding day and then a slightly smuttier time in the honeymoon suit after the reception.

another highly requested, is a wedding. i love weddings and my guilty pleasure is wedding fics idk why, so give me that. you can follow the lore if they have it, or do whatever you want! proposal, ceremony, honeymoon- honestly whichever you want! where does it happen? what’s the details? who’s there? if you put vows i’m gonna sob so just fyi on that.

Word Count:2,490 (oops!)

Warnings:Cutesy wedding day fluff, Smut, Oral Sex (F Rec), Missionary position, Dirty talk, I think that's it unless I'm forgetting something; in which case feel free to shoot me a message so I can tag it.

Masterlist // Eddie Munson Masterlist

Eddie wasn't usually a nervous person. He was usually a loud, boisterous and confident person. That was until today. The big day. His wedding day.

He stood at the end of that altar in his perfectly tailored black suit, freshly pressed white shirt and tie, with the nerves bubbling in the pit of his stomach. When he thinks back to his younger years, he could never have imagined that something like this would be in his future. 

Steve takes notice of how Eddie nervously fiddles with his hands, a habit he’s got into whenever things would get too much for him. He would always end up twisting his clunky metal rings around his fingers. Although for his big day he had removed all his precious rings, insisting that the only ring he wanted on his finger today was his wedding band. Nevertheless his nervous habit didn’t leave him, as he fiddled his fingers around his non-existent rings.

Taking his duties as his best man seriously, Steve takes a moment to offer a calming pat on his shoulder, helping to ground the jangled groom.

“You love her, she loves you, don't sweat it, man. You've got this.”

“Thanks, Steve.” Eddie sighs, before taking one more nerve-calming breath.

The music starts up, and everyone in the church stands to look to you, 

You look like a vision in white, with delicate layers of lace, and tulle as you grace down the aisle towards him, a bouquet of pristine white roses and lilies in hand.

The music slows to a stop as you stand in front of him. His heart is beating so fast in his chest he wonders if you can hear it too.

“Y-you look beautiful.” Eddie stumbles over his words. He thought he would be so cool in this moment, but the moment he sees your face he can’t help the tears that gather in his eyes.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Handsome.” you smile, reaching up to gently wipe away the tears from his eyes.

You take his hand in yours as you both turn to stand in front of the priest, who is ready to conduct the ceremony.

“Friends and family, we are all gathered here today to witness the union of Edward Theodore Munson and Y/N L/N,” the priest smiles as he gestures to each of you. “The happy couple have chosen to write their own vows, so please join me helping to celebrate their love for each other.”

“Sweetheart, I couldn't believe my luck that when I asked you out all those years ago, you said yes. Just from that one small date, I knew that I never wanted you out of my life, that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. You’re an amazing person, and everyday I fall in love with you a little bit more. I know I may not be the perfect man, but you make me want to be a better man, and everyday I try hard to do my best by you. Waking up to your face makes my world a little brighter every time and I promise to stand by you, and to love you with every last beat of my heart.” Eddie finishes with a soft smile playing at his lips.

You feel your heart warming at Eddie’s vows, he always had a way with words, and it’s no surprise to you that his vows were nothing short of heart-meltingly romantic.

“My dear Eddie, you are not only the love of my life, but more importantly than that you are my best friend, and getting to stand with you today in front of all our friends and family and tell you how much you mean to me is something that I will cherish forever. You make me feel so safe and loved, and I can only hope that I make you feel the same way. I promise to always be there for you and support you, and I can’t wait to continue making memories with you.” 

You manage to get through your vows without breaking down in floods of tears, as you smile brightly at your soon-to-be-husband.

“Now it is time to exchange rings.” the priest voices to everyone. 

Steve hands over the ring to Eddie as the priest tells Eddie to repeat after him.

“I, Edward Theodore Munson, take you Y/N L/N, to be my wife. To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish till death do us part.”

Nancy hands you the ring she’d been holding for you, then the priest turns to you, to read you the same vows for you to repeat.

“I, Y/N L/N, take you, Edward Theodore Munson, to be my Husband. To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish till death do us part.”

You each slide the wedding band on each other’s ring finger as the priest speaks once more.

“You have now exchanged rings. These rings are a symbol of your commitment, love and devotion to each other, and serve as a reminder to honour the vows you have declared in this church. It now gives me great pleasure to pronounce you as husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Eddie smiles brightly before leaning close to kiss you sweetly once and then winding one hand around your waist and the other to cradle your head as he dips you into another heated kiss.

You laugh into the kiss, vaguely registering the flash of Jonathan’s camera going off, perfectly capturing the moment.

“Sorry, I just couldn’t resist you.” Eddie smirks at you.

Yeah, you had definitely made the right choice. This was the dork you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

You and Eddie stumble into your hotel room in a fit of giggles after enjoying a few glasses of champagne at your wedding reception. The party had long been finished now, with everyone making their way home, and you and Eddie staying the night in the hotel’s honeymoon suite.

“I can’t believe it, we literally just got married..like that’s a thing we just did!” you babble in an excited breath.

“I know! And I can’t believe I get to call you my wife!” Eddie cheers as he picks you up and spins around with you in his arms and placing you back down with a kiss to your lips.

You turn your back to Eddie for a moment before looking at him from over your shoulder. His dark curls have been set free from their bun, as they fall around his shoulders. The tie around his neck has been loosened and the top button of his shirt undone, revealing a glimpse of the tattoo on his chest. 

“Unzip me?” You ask him, your voice dripping with a sultry tone.

Eddie wastes no time in making his way over to you as fingers work to slowly drag the zipper of your wedding dress down your back, his lips kissing softly against the exposed skin of your shoulder.

You step out of your dress, leaving yourself in the floral, white, lacy lingerie that you had picked out especially for tonight.

Eddie gives a cheeky wolf-whistle of appreciation as you twirl around, as make yourself comfortable on the King-sized bed. 

Eddie feels his cock kick up in anticipation for what was to come.

“You gonna join me or what, Mr. Munson?” You tease with a light breathy chuckle.

In a flash Eddie is stripping off, throwing his suit jacket on the back of a chair, until only his boxers remain. The material doing very little to hide his straining erection. 

“Who would I be if I kept my wife waiting?” He smiles as he steps closer to the bed, before leaning in to kiss his lips against your ankle, and trailing his kisses up your legs, and prying your thighs open to place kisses on the inside of your thighs.

His fingers hook themselves in the waistband of your panties a smirk.

You quickly reach up behind your back to unclasp your bra as his fingers teases the elastic of your panties.

“As lovely as these are, they've got to go.” he murmurs, placing one more kiss to the soft skin of your thighs before dragging the lace down your legs.

“There she is. My pretty girl..” Eddie almost purrs out as he’s greeted by the sight of your pussy. 

He makes himself comfortable, lying down on the bed between the spread of your thighs.

“Can I taste you, Sweetheart?” He asks oh so innocently, his big brown eyes sparkling with a cheeky glint as he looks up at you.

Your shy nod of your head and little whine of ‘please�� is all the go-ahead that Eddie needed before he was dragging his tongue from the bottom of your slit to the top, swirling his tongue around your clit before sucking it between his plump lips.

His tongue laps at your dripping wetness, eager to taste and to please you.

He gently slips one of his dexterous, guitarist's fingers inside your wet heat and begins to work in and out of you at a leisurely pace, flicking his tongue over your clit, enjoying the mewling whines that fall from your lips.

“Eddie…please..” you whine as you tug your fingers into his dark curls.

Eddie pulls away from you, his lips glossy with your wetness.

“Please what, Sweetheart? Can’t give it to you unless you tell me what you want.” he teases with a smile.

“Want you to make me cum..please..” you plead as you shamelessly try to grind your hips against his face. 

“Well, when you ask me so sweetly like that, it would be a crime to deny you.” he purrs before going back in to attach his lips around your clit, making sure to rub against that spot inside you that has you squeezing so tightly around his finger. 

He knows you're close, he knows your body as well as anything, and those tell-tale breathy moans that fall from your lips let him know just how badly you need it.

“That's it..there's my pretty girl, cum for me, sweetheart.”

It didn't take very much more than a few passes of Eddie's tongue lapping at your dripping cunt and his fingers hitting inside you just right before you were falling over the edge of pleasure with a wet gush. Squirting around fingers as his tongue teases your pussy gently to help you ride out your high.

Eddie pulls his mouth away from your glistening cunt once more, a lazy smirk gracing his face.

“You taste amazing as always, Mrs. Munson.” he smiles, enjoying the way that your new title just rolls off his tongue so perfectly. Like you were always meant to be his wife. Like you were always meant to be Mrs. Munson.

“Come up here, Eddie, I just wanna feel you, please..” you tell him as you urge him up from between your thighs. He takes a moment to free himself of the tight constraints of his boxers, letting his cock slap up against the trail of fuzzy hair below his navel.

He crawls his way up your body, his lips continuing to explore and kiss every soft inch of exposed skin. His kisses blazing a hot trail, up your body, stopping at your breasts as he takes the time to swirl his tongue around each of your nipples, teasing it into a hardened bud.

“You wanna feel me, Sweetheart? Want me to make love to you?” he murmurs between kisses pressed to your lips.

Eddie needed no further affirmation than your little breathy moan of ‘yes please’ before he was pressing his cock’s tip at your entrance, slowly easing himself inside inch by inch. 

He steadies himself on his arms, caging you safely underneath his gaze, as he gently sweeps the stray hair that’s fallen across your eyes. 

Kissing your lips once more he smears the sticky bead of pre-cum that pools from his tip over your clit, before beginning  to rock his hips into you, filling you with every pulsing inch of his cock. Sliding home into the warmth of your walls hugging against him.

“Feels so good…Making me feel so good, Teddy..” you whimper, the nickname falling from your lips so sweetly.

He continues to roll his hips into you, each time making you shudder in pleasure underneath him.

His large hand reaches out to find your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, his brown eyes softening when he sees your golden wedding band decorating your dainty finger. The reminder that you were in this with him for the rest of your lives made his heart bloom with love.

“My beautiful wife…I love you so much, Sweetheart…” he kisses you softly once more, letting his tongue sweep between your lips.

 Your hand reaches down between your two bodies, your deft fingers rubbing in precise circle around your clit as he fucks into you. The building tension in your stomach grows with every steady thrust of your husband's cock into your pulsing heat.

“Fuck…Sweetheart, you feel so good, swear this pretty little pussy was just made for me…” his raspy voice rumbles out, as he places a sloppy kiss into the crook of your neck. 

His movements get sloppier as he chases both his and your highs, his hips working to make you both feel good.

“Come on Sweetheart, one more, for me please, wanna feel you squeezing around me..” he murmurs, as his unrelenting thrusts continue to rut into you.

With the way your own fingers were rubbing so deliciously around your clit, and Eddie’s cock filling you so perfectly every time, it wasn’t long before you pushed over the edge, whimpering with a shuddering moan as you tightened around his length, riding out the high of your orgasm.

Eddie followed you soon after, his breath ragged as he pushed into you one final time, his hips still as he filled you with his release. Throbbing hot spurts of white into you, as he too rides out the high of his orgasm. 

You both stay like that for a moment, not bothering to move, just wanting to feel the closeness of each other. To feel each other’s bodies. 

Eddie’s hand holds your face tenderly, his thumb brushing against your cheek softly.

“I love you so much, sweetheart.” He kisses you sweetly.

“I love you too, Teddy.” you smile into the kiss, a warmth blooming in your chest as you do.

It had been the perfect end to the perfect day, and you couldn’t wait to continue spending the rest of your life with the man you loved so dearly.

@slutty-thevampireslayer @penguinsandpotterheads @xxhellfirebunnyxx @mrsjellymunson @onegirlmanytales

[ashwhowrites]

Hi! I have a request, but I’m not sure if it fits exactly in the smut prompt list.

Would you interested and/or writing about the night Eddie and reader conceive their first child?

Thank you for considering!

Oh definitely!

This is really fucking fluffy

⚠️smut, some good love making, slight breeding kink- way too tired to proofread

Eddie and Y/N Munson have been married for two years. They had a small wedding, in a small room, but surrounded by everyone they love. Wayne married the couple. Crying as he watched his nephew marry the girl of his dreams. Steve was Eddie's best man, smiling over his shoulder as Eddie said his vows to his future wife. Chrissy cried behind Y/N, watching as her best friend stood in white.

Everyone clapped as the couple kissed. This was a relationship everyone knew would last. Eddie was smitten with her and she adored him.

All they wanted now, was a baby.

Eddie never knew how bad he wanted to be a dad until they babysat Steve's little boy. He was four years old and had the biggest crush on Y/N.

He followed her everywhere. Wrapping his little arms around her legs. Always begging to be held.

Eddie loved watching her with him. The way she'd smile as she danced with him in the living room.

He adored that during movie nights she'll fall asleep on Eddie. Steve's little boy would fall asleep on her lap. His hand clenching on her tightly. Eddie's arm wrapped around them both.

That night wouldn't leave his head. He imagined having his own son or daughter, sleeping on his wife as she slept on him. Some old movie playing in the background. Eddie never knew he wanted a baby until he married her. Now he wanted a baby and he only wanted a baby with her.

~~

Y/N was in the bathroom, tying her hair back as she cleaned off her makeup. The couple just got back from a date night. A romantic dinner at a new restaurant near their home.

Eddie loved being in their home. It had three bedrooms, but only one was being used. Eddie wanted to fill those bedrooms with little feet and quiet giggles.

"hey baby" he called out, walking into the bathroom.

"yeah?" She asked as she dried her face

"do you want a baby?"

She turned to look at him quickly.

"of course I do. But we'll wait until you are ready, just like we talked about" she smiled. Wrapping her arms around his neck

"I'm ready" he said fast. His stomach was already filling with excitement.

She smiled bigger, "are you sure? There's no rush"

"I'm definitely sure. I want to fuck you all night, deep and slow. Cum in you so deep. Get you pregnant. Watch your body create our baby. I bet you'd look so hot with a bump." He whispered against her lips. Biting her bottom lip softly as his thumb rested on her cheek

"Jesus Eddie" she moaned. She could feel herself getting wet at his words. Her thighs clenched and she hated the way Eddie smirked as he noticed it.

"my wife likes that huh?" He teased. One hand cupping her neck and moving her head up. Lips inches away. His other hand was slowly going down her body. Cupping her heated cunt through her small shorts

"mhhm yes" she moaned. Licking her lips as she waited for Eddie to kiss her. Slowly grinding herself against his hand.

Eddie took away his touch. Smiling as she pouted. With a kiss to her lips, he picked her up throwing her over his shoulder as he raced to their bedroom. She laughed and giggled as he ran. Slapping his ass playfully.

Her laugh stopped when he threw her down on the bed. She gasped as he dove straight in her neck. Sucking and kissing everywhere. She moaned as her hands gripped his hair.

"I bet you are soaked gorgeous" he teased. Nipping at her skin one last time.

"Eddie please" she whined as she thrust her hips up against him

"shh I got you baby" he kissed her neck as he moved down. Kissing down her body over her clothes. Once his lips reached the top of her shorts, he pulled away.

Slipping her shorts off, he smirked at the small wet patch on her panties.

"look at that" he teased, his thumb circling the wet patch slowly. Enjoying the way her body jerked. He pressed her panties against her clit. Feeling her wetness grow.

"Eddie come on" she grunted, frustrated at his teasing.

He laughed at her attitude but took off her panties. Kissing all around her thighs, creeping closer to her wet cunt. Sucking hickies into her inner thighs. Her fingers dug into his hair. Shoving his head further against her and moving her hips against his nose. Forcing her clit to finally be touched.

Eddie moaned as she held him in place. Forcing herself against him. The way she was using him had his cock growing harder in his pants.

He gave in, licking her clit slowly. Enjoying how she moaned loudly.

"spread your legs for me Munson" she whined even louder when he called her by her last name, the one she got from him.

She listened instantly. Spreading her legs as far as she could. Whining as Eddie spit on her cunt and rubbed it in.

His pushed one finger in her, watching as her body clenched.

"so wet gorgeous" he moaned. Moving his one finger in and out of her.

"more baby" she whined. Moving her hips with Eddie's finger. Moaning as he added another finger. He was two fingers deep. His rings smacking against her heated cunt. His left hand was moving up her body, grabbing her tits. The feeling of his silver wedding band caused goosebumps on her skin.

His mouth moving against her clit. Switching between licking and sucking.

"fuck more please" she whined. Throwing her head back as Eddie added two more fingers. Now four fingers deep in her. Fucking her hard and fast. Loving the sound of her cunt sucking him in. She was dripping everywhere. He sucked harder on her clit. His left hand still working on her tits.

"I'm gonna cum" she whined. Throwing her head back as she rode his face. Forcing his head to stay against her. Her thighs clenching around his head as her orgasm ripped through her.

Eddie removed his mouth from her clit, "that's it baby. Cum for me. Make a mess on my fingers baby" his mouth returned to her clit. Licking in circles and sucking her clit.

She gasped loudly as her orgasm kept going. Her body arching as her thighs shook. Her eyes rolling in the back of her head. The image of Eddie's head between her thighs was all she could see when she clenched her eyes shut.

Eddie worked her through her orgasm. Palming himself through his dress pants as he watched her cum.

Eddie kissed up her body. Humming softly as he reached her lips. Y/N didn't waste a second, shoving her tongue in his mouth. Loving that she could taste herself on her husband's tongue. He moaned as she sucked his tongue, then sucked his button lip.

"let me suck you off" she whined. Removing her shirt.

Eddie stood at the end of the bed. Unbuttoning his dress shirt. Her eyes looked as each button opened, more skin was showing. His inked and slightly hairy chest had her hands going to unbuckle his pants faster.

The second his pants hit the floor with his boxers, she yanked the rest of his shirt off, pushing it off of his shoulders. Looking at the sight of his naked body. His pale skin, decorated with moles. His small waist that she wanted to sink her teeth into. His red cock begging for attention. His small thighs. His heavy balls. She could feel herself dripping for him all over again

She moved to the end of the bed on her knees. Pumping his cock as she wrapped her mouth around his head. Swirling her tongue around his tip. Slowly moving her head further down on his cock. Her hands rested on his thighs, bracing herself as she sucked him faster.

Once she felt his hands tangled in her hair she knew what was coming next.

He fucked her throat fast. Whimpering as she sucked him off perfectly. He loved the way she gave head. She refused to get off of his cock until he was panting for her. Refusing to move unless he was cumming down her throat. She loved giving Eddie head. Something about his gorgeous cock being in her throat was so sinful she loved it. The way he would fuck her throat so roughly but kiss her softly afterwards. Telling her how she did so well for him.

His ass was clenching as he stuffed his cock in the back of her throat. Stopping his thrusts as he stayed there.

"hold it ...that's it baby" he moaned. Hearing her gag and choke had him closer than ever. He loved that her nose was against his pubic hair. His balls inch away from her chin. He was so deep in her throat.

She moved her hands around his thighs, slowly making her way to his balls. Folding the skin and massaging.

"oh fuck yes" he moaned. Her soft hands working on his balls as she sucked him off.

He quickly yanked himself out of her mouth. Breathing heavy as he panted. He was seconds away from cumming.

"why'd you stop?" She asked, sitting sweetly on her knees

Eddie smiled down at her, his fingers digging in her hair, yanking her head straight up

"because I need to make sure I cum in that pussy. How else am I going to fuck a baby in you?" He pushed her body in the bed.

Slipping his body on top of hers.

He teased her clit softly, holding his cock as he moved it up and down. His tip getting soaked in her wetness

"please Eddie" she whined again. Eddie wasn't in a rush. Still teasing his tip against her.

She wasn't waiting. She shoved his hand off of his cock and gripped it instead. Pushing his cock inside of her as she pushed her hips down on him

"damn baby. You want me bad today huh?" He teased. Moving himself out of her and slowly pushing back in.

"God yes" she moaned.

He was thrusting into her slowly and deeply. He had to control his breathing so he wouldn't bust so soon. He could feel every part of her.

"I don't think I've ever been this deep" he moaned

He was used to fucking her fast. Both are always too impatient to go slow. Wanting that desperate and needy sex.

But now she could feel every vein in Eddie's cock as he thrusted inside of her. Feeling him deep in her stomach

"god I love your tight pink pretty pussy" he moaned. Fucking her a tad bit harder. Losing himself in the feeling of her.

"fuck baby. You feel so good. So fucking deep" she whined. Wrapping her legs around him, shoving him even deeper in her

"yeah? Think I can get even deeper?" He asked. He pulled out and flipped her over. Kissing down her spine as she arched her ass into him.

"Look at you. So horny for me" he teased, smacking her ass.

"again" she moaned, pushing herself against his cock. He smirked and slapped her ass again

He slammed back into her without warning. The strength in her arms giving out as she face planted in the sheets. The sheets swallowed her moans as she reached behind her and held on to Eddie's ass. She was moaning like crazy. She could feel him everywhere.

"oh fuck you are so tight" he pounded into her even faster. He's done going slow. He wanted to hear her scream and beg

"I love feeling your balls" she whimpered. His heavy sack of balls were smacking her hard. His thrusts were ruthless and his balls smacked against her cunt

"I want to ride your cock"

Eddie wasn't one to turn down his wife's wishes. He slipped out, pumping himself as he sat against the headboard.

She quickly crawled in his lap. Kissing his lips as she lowered herself on his cock. Moaning as she was filled with him again

She didn't care to go slow either. Bouncing fast and rocking her hips into him.

Eddie's mouth latched on to her tits that were in his face. Sucking her nipples as she held him even closer into her.

His hand went down to her clit. Rubbing her fast and hard. Loving how she squealed as her body jerked into him

"that's it baby. Can't wait to cum in you. Make a baby with you. Watch your stomach grow, knowing I was balls deep inside of you. Pumping my whole load just for you. Just for my beautiful wife. "

She was panting at his words and the abuse on her clit. Her arms were fully around his body. Her forehead pressed against his. Nose to nose.

"I need to cum" she moaned

"do it baby. Cum for daddy yeah? Make a mess on my cock"

She screamed as she came all over him. Hearing him call himself daddy had her spazzing.

Eddie worked her through her orgasm. Holding back on his own.

She kept moving her hips. Watching as he shuttered as he got closer

"that's it daddy. You going to cum? Fill me up with all your cum? Make me a mommy daddy. Get me pregnant. Cum in me"

Eddie moaned at her words. A dark cloud taking over him as he fucked up into her hardly. She was screaming at the overstimulation but she felt way too good to go slow.

"shit...yes baby...FUCK" he screamed as he felt his load shoot in her. Fucking up into her desperately

"take it baby" he moaned

"every. Last. Drop." Pounding harder after each word.

She nodded and rode him harder, milking him for everything he had.

Their bodies shut down together. She slumped into him as he rubbed her back softly

"you did so good for me baby" he whispered into her hair. Kissing her head over and over. She snuggled deeper into his chest. His cock going soft inside of her. Neither felt they wanted to take it out.

"just stay in me please?" She asked. Eddie nodded with a smile. Lifting her head and kissing her lips.

"we are so doing that every single night"

She laughed but knew Eddie was serious.

~~

Weeks later she held the test, two pink lines staring back at her. She screamed excitedly as she ran out of the bathroom.

Eddie was making dinner when he heard her scream. Panicky running towards the sound of her screams. He ran straight into her as he rounded the corner, catching her fast before she fell

"what's wrong?" He asked fast. Looking over her body and touching for areas she flinched at

"EDDIE LOOK!" she basically screamed in his face. Shoving the stick in his face

Eddie wasn't sure what he was looking at

"are you sick?" He asked, eyeing what he thought was a thermometer

"no Eddie it's a pregnancy test!"

He snatched it out of her hands, staring down at the pink lines

"does this mean we are having a baby?" He asked, hope filling his body. She wouldn't have screamed if it was a negative, right?

"WE'RE HAVING A BABY!" she screamed

"OH MY GOD. I'M GONNA BE A DAD?" he screamed back. Throwing the test on the floor and he wrapped his arms around her. Twirling her in the air as she laughed

"you are so going to be the hottest dad ever" she smiled, kissing his lips

"I definitely have a thing for moms now" he joked as he kissed her back.

The Munson family of two was about to be a family of three....and Dustin.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @slightlyvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee

[vxntagedior]

heyyy i love ur writing and have fallen in love with xavier so fast!! can i request xavier falling for tyler’s sister when she comes into the cafe while he is volunteering but she gets super shy around him? if u felt like writing something longer it could evolve into how she realises tyler is the hyde and she is the one to free xavier and help him get to nevermore to help wednesday

all good if not 🫶🏻🫶🏻

chai latte

summary | the monster in the woods brings you and Xavier closer than before

pairing | xavier thorpe x fem!reader

warning | fluff, angst, xavier and reader dancing around their feelings

word count | 1.9k

You never really like drinking coffee, but having your twin brother working at the Weathervane, it basically means you get free drinks. 

Walking across town after class, you saw how the town was preparing for Outreach Day, when all the Nevermore students came into town. 

The bell on top of the door dinged as you entered through, you were surprised it was so empty but with everyone working for the day, you were glad you had most of the place to yourself. 

“Xavier.” You smiled softly, not expecting to see him at the Weathervane, “What are you doing here?”

“Weathervane was my assignment for Outreach Day.” He leaned against the counter, “Can I get you a chai latte.”

You were surprised that he even remembered what you drank. The two of you had an odd relationship. Meeting for the first time last year during the last Outreach Day, you apologized for what your brother and his friends did to him.

It was a blooming friendship since you usually spent your time at the Weathervane, not wanting to go home any longer then you needed to and you got free drinks while you did your homework. 

Xavier usually came into town every once in a while, always making sure to stop by and talk with you before he went back to Nevermore, always leaving you with a drawing he made while the two of you talked. 

You never told Tyler nor your dad that you were friends with Xavier, both of them not liking the students are Nevermore, saying how bad they were for Jericho. There was nothing bad about Xavier, he was kind to you, never said anything ill about anyone. 

“Here ya go.” He smiled. 

“Y/n.” You looked over his shoulder to see Tyler coming out of the back, “What are you doing talking to him?”

You frowned looking back at Xavier, seeing how his face fell, he gave a small smile, saying nothing more. 

“I was just making her a drink.” Xavier said, “Nothing else.”

“Go home Y/n.” Tyler sighed. You never knew why he was growing so agitated lately, but not wanting to cause any problems with him, you walked out. 

Xavier watched as you crossed the street, cursing himself mentally for not asking you out, once again. 

-

Since your mom had passed, your dad was barely home and whenever he was, he didn’t spare any attention to you and Tyler was always at work or school and now with Wednesday Addams. 

You were noisy, something Dr. Kinbott seemed to notice while you attended therapy. Since her funeral, you kept trying to figure out why your mother died, though the coroner said it was suicide, you didn’t believe it, she wouldn’t you all like that. 

Growing up, your mom never really talked about her life, keeping everything in the present, the only photo you saw of her when she was young was her wedding. 

Before she died, she had given you a box of her mementoes. You never really looked at it, still overcome with grief but it seemed like she would answer some of the questions that were still unanswered.

There are many photos of you all as a family, a few things that she loved, but there was one that caught your eye. 

Seeing the purple uniform, your eyes wide, pulling it out further. It was a Nevermore Academy uniform. Looking closer at the photo, you tried to figure what your mother was. Turning the photo around, you looked at the familiar cursive handwriting.

‘I’d never hyde anything from you’

You looked at it for a few more minutes wondering why she spelt hyde wrong. 

“It’s not wrong.” You whispered to yourself, pocketing the photo, putting the box back in your closet. 

Running over to your bookcase, your finger traced against the spines of the book before stopping at the one you needed, Jekyll and Hyde. 

You remembered hearing Tyler talking with Wednesday about the monster being a Hyde. Pulling out your phone, your fingers typed rapidly to Xavier, wanting to know more about the Hyde. 

The sound of your ringtone pulled you out of your mind, seeing Xavier’s name at the top. 

“Do you know something?” He asked almost immediately. 

“I think my mother was a Hyde.” You sighed, “I heard Tyler and Wednesday talking about it, that’s what that thing is that’s been killing people.

“Wednesday.” You heard him say. Assuming that he walked away from the phone without picking up, you couldn’t hear the conversation but hearing the doors slam open you jumped. 

“Freeze!” You heard through the phone, you knew that voice anywhere, screaming into the phone. 

“Xavier, Xavier!”

It was blurry from there, getting out of the house and running to the police station, forgetting all about your car. 

“Dad, what’s going on!” Your eyes were wide, seeing the handcuffs on Xavier, watching him being pushed into the room where the holding cell was. 

“I found who has been murdering all those people.” He said simply. 

“You're joking.” You said in disbelief. Looking behind your dad, you saw Wednesday behind him. “What the hell did you do?”

Before you could get any closer, he had pushed you away from her. 

“Y/n, you need to calm down and go home.”

“I’m going anywhere!” You screamed, “You just arrested someone who didn’t do anything.”

“Tyler, please take your sister home.” Your dad just sighed before walking into his office. You noticed how it wasn’t in the room, no one was, letting you slip into the holding room. 

“Xavier.” You whispered, coming to stand in front of the cell. 

“You shouldn’t be here.” There was no emotion in his face, like he had just completely given up at that point. “You can’t see me like this, go home, please.”

Tears started to water your eyes, wiping them with the back of your hand, you sniffled, “I’m gonna get you out of here. I promise”

Walking out of the room, you missed the tears that were streaming down his face. 

Coming back home that night, you spent hours re-reading Jekyll and Hyde, trying to see if anything from the book gave you any sense of what this monster was. 

You reminded yourself how genetics plays a role into many things, and if your mother was born a hyde, that genetic would pass down to you or-

Tyler. 

Not believing yourself, it was the only answer that sounded correct, but you never wondered how he truly got it. Knowing the truth now, you had to get Xavier out, and get him to help you and tell the truth not only to your father but to Nevermore. 

Knowing your dad like the back of your hand, he had kept a set of spare keys to the station and others needed in the building, hidden in a junk drawer in the kitchen. 

You were slamming down on the gas, driving through town, getting to the station in a record amount of time. Slipping through the remaining officers in the station, looking around before going back into the holding cells. 

“Xavier!” You smiled, pulling the keys out of your pocket, trying each one before it was unlocked. 

“It’s Tyler.” Xavier saw how devastated you looked, as much as he was a monster, he was your brother. 

“We’ll go back to Nevermore and figure it out.” He wrung his hands out, rubbing at his wrists, seeing how red they were. “Thank you, you saved me.”

Something felt bad when you arrived at Nevermore, you always had uneasy feelings for the school but it was different this time. Seeing the crowd of students running towards the entrance, you slammed down on your brakes, looking over to Xavier. 

“We’re gonna have to run.” He decided, jumping out of your car. 

Grabbing your hand in his, Xavier pulled you with him as he weaved in and out through the students. You could hear the terror in their voices explaining about how Crackstone had invaded the quad. 

Though you had never been to Nevermore, you watched as Xavier ran away from the main part of the school down into the fields. Never speaking, you watched as he grabbed his bow and arrow before running back towards the quad. 

“I need you to stay here.” He hid you behind a corridor. “If someone happens, run, and do not look back.”

“Xavier!” You screamed for him as he ran into the quad, from where you were standing, you couldn’t see, but all the commotion made you fearful. Hearing someone screamed, you choked on your breath, sliding on the wall, curling yourself into a ball, practically making yourself invisible. 

Your eyes were closed, just listening, eventually, it quieted outside, and you heard footsteps approaching you. Covering your mouth with your hand, muffling your breath and your sobs, you pushed your head into your knees. 

“Y/n.”

You let out a muffled gasp, looking up to see Xavier only a few feet away from you. 

“Xavier.” You cried, coming up from the ground, running towards him. His arms were already open for you, one hand wrapped around your waist, the other holding the back of your head. 

“C’mon, let’s get out of here.” His arm was still slinged around your waist, as he brought you out to the quad. You saw Crackstone and a woman, both on the ground dead, Wednesday and two other students standing above them. 

None of you talked as you walked out of Nevermore, coming to the group of students outside the gates. The sounds of leaves crunching against your feet, you found yourself looking up at all the students. 

“You okay?” You asked Xavier. 

“Yeah.” He nodded, “I’m just glad you're safe.”

-

Coming home that night was dreadful, your dad had Tyler taken into custody, somewhere he couldn’t hurt anybody. 

Hearing through the grapevine, you heard that Nevermore was closed down for the rest of the semester. You were a little glum that you wouldn’t see Xavier for almost two months before he came back. 

Sitting in your usual booth at the Weathervane, you heard the doorbell ring, looking up. 

“What are you doing here, I thought you left already.” You smiled, watching as he came over towards your booth.

“I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye.” He said, “What type of guy would I be?”

You pushed yourself out of the booth, sighing softly, before wrapping your arms around his shoulder, resting your head on his chest. 

“I’m gonna miss you.” You whispered. 

“I have a phone, you know.” He laughed. 

“Can’t you say you’ll miss me too.” You huffed. 

“I’ll miss you too.” He said softly, his hand cradling your cheek, leaning down to kiss your forehead. Your eyes closed in content, feeling his lips linger for a second before pulling away. “Maybe over break, you’d like to take a trip.”

“Are you inviting me to your house?” You said in amusement. 

“Something like that, can’t be away from you that long.”

“Course I will.” Hearing a horn honk outside, you both looked out to see a man who assumed who was Xavier’s father.

“He always knows when to ruin a moment.” He pulled away from you. “I’ll see you.”

“You too, Xavi.” You quickly kissed a cheek before settling back down.

Watching as he exited the Weathervane, seeing him walk towards the car, Xavier looked back to see you already watching. He just smiled before getting in. You waited until you couldn’t see him anymore, before settling back into your work. 

fin.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Garden of Secrets [10] - Honeysuckle

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support my loves, it made my whole week, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler​ for helping me with the chapter!

Summary: Engagement dinners are supposed to be romantic.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms.

Word Count: 4500

Series Masterlist

It wasn’t that you didn’t know this engagement would be talked about.

You knew very well that starting that night, your sudden engagement would be a very popular topic within the ton for the days to come. Assuming otherwise would make you naïve and you were anything but naïve, at least that was what you liked to think.

But this?

This was something different.

Dear Readers,

Though it has not been long since we have started this season, it seems that love has already claimed a very unlikely couple. Benedict Bridgerton, after his many dalliances and two years of alleged courtship with Miss Harlowe, has decided to wed Miss Y/N.

Now, this author is among the many people that was quite shocked by this sudden engagement and the rumors circling this pleasant union. While there are certain witnesses that claim Mr. and future Mrs. Bridgerton were caught in a scandalous manner, some have also heard the scandalous manner was merely the enthusiasm two lovers had been caught up in after Mr. Bridgerton’s unexpected proposal. Whether that is true or not remains to be found out and rest assured my dear readers, we shall find it out.

Yet, one cannot expect everyone to share the happiness to this delightful news. Especially considering how secret Mr. Bridgerton had held his intentions with Miss Y/N, it raises the question if Miss Y/N has in fact led Mr. Bridgerton away from Miss Harlowe with her charms like many think she has. We can only hope that Miss Harlowe is not too heartbroken, and will finish the season as a happily married woman after a much shorter courting period than she did with Mr. Bridgerton.

Regardless of the many scandals entwined in this love story, it is very clear that this engagement is not the last time we will hear of Mr. and future Mrs. Bridgerton. On behalf of the ton, this author offers her congratulations to our happy couple and would like to say that she cannot wait for the wedding.

Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, skimming the lines and your head shot up when someone knocked on the door.

“Come in!”

The door opened and Lottie peeked her head in. “Hello!”

“Lottie?” you asked, lowering the paper in a haste and she stepped inside.

“I couldn’t wait any longer to congratulate you!” she said and rushed to pull you into a hug. “It’s such wonderful news, you’re marrying Benedict!”

“Um,” you cleared your throat as she pulled back to grin at you. “Yes. I am.”

“When did you fall in love?” she asked you. “Benedict says it was very sudden!”

You blinked a couple of times, gawking at her.

“…Benedict told you—?”

“That you two fell in love very fast and suddenly.”

Ah.

So you two would be hiding what had happened from everyone then.

On one hand you understood why Benedict had chosen to hide the truth from Charlotte. You yourself had no idea about how to explain it to her, and by doing so you felt like you were protecting her from the truth in a way. You didn’t think you could bear to see the look of heartbreak on her face, especially when you knew she believed in love with all her heart so as far as she and the rest of the ton were concerned, you and Benedict were to have a love marriage.

On the other hand, you were beginning to wish you could at least talk to someone about it, but that was wishing for impossible.

“And I don’t want you to worry,” she said as she plopped down on the bed and grabbed the Whistledown paper. “I’m not heartbroken about it at all, why would I be? Me and Benny were never in a courtship, I hope you know that.”

“Yeah,” you said, trying to offer her a small smile. “I know.”

“Are you very excited about your wedding?”

A bitter taste reached the back of your throat but you sat up, trying to appear nonchalant.

“It’s weeks away.”

“More time to plan it to perfection!” Lottie said with a big smile. “But I’ve heard about the dinner tonight, I am invited as well!”

You let out a relieved breath. “Oh that’s wonderful,” you said “I’m so glad you’ll be there Lottie, you have no idea.”

“Benny will be there too,” she reminded you and you paused for a moment, then nodded.

“Yeah,” you said. “He will be there of course.”

“And knowing him, he probably didn’t give you a lot of information about their family, so that’s also why I came here,” she said. “So that you’ll know who is who tonight and who likes what in detail.”

You snapped your fingers. “It’s a great idea Lottie, I appreciate it.”

Lottie waved a hand in the air. “Oh don’t mention it,” she said. “I know that this dinner is important for everyone, why shouldn’t I do my part to make it easier for at least one person?”

You felt a smile warm your face and reached out to squeeze her hand.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome!” she said and took a deep breath. “Alright so, first of all, there’s Anthony Bridgerton, the head of the family.”

“Yeah I—”

“He’s the sweetest person in the entire world,” she said, making you frown.

“What?”

“Yes! He is so thoughtful, and so kind, and so—”

“Are we talking about the same person?” you asked. “The oldest brother?”

“Yes that’s him!”

“Lottie, I already met him the other day.”

Lottie gave you a happy smile. “And? What is your opinion of him?”

“He should drop dead.”

Lottie’s eyes widened.

“No!” she said quickly as if your words could in fact make Anthony Bridgerton drop dead and she shook her head, that crestfallen look on her face making you feel as if you kicked a puppy. You took a deep breath.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“You did not like him?”

“Not exactly,” you admitted. “And the feeling is mutual.”

Lottie tilted her head. “Oh I cannot imagine him not liking you,” she said. “Why would he not?”

“I’m quite certain he has a list,” you pointed out and Charlotte thought for a moment.

“I’m sure when he sees how in love you are with each other at tonight’s dinner, he will reconsider his stance.”

You raised your brows, that familiar nervousness spreading through you at the thought of tonight.

“How in love we are,” you repeated. “Right. This dinner should be interesting.”

                                                     *

You could swear the time had gone faster than usual until the dinner time. Lottie had left around the afternoon to go to her own house to prepare, and your aunt was so excited that she could hardly sit still until everything looked perfect, from the gifts you would take to Bridgerton house to your gown for the night. Your uncle was not as excited as she was, and yet he had fondness etched all over his face whenever he looked at her and saw her so happy.

If you could bring yourself to hope, you would have hoped for having a marriage similar to theirs, one he still could not help but smile whenever he saw her almost glowing in excitement, but you knew better than that.

Their marriage was an exception, something impossible for you to achieve.

No matter how sweet Benedict had been with you, as soon as you were wedded—

No.

You couldn’t think about that, not now.

“Clover, a word?”

You whirled around on your heels at the foyer while your aunt and Teddy stepped outside to make their ways to the carriage.

“Of course, uncle,” you said as he approached you, fixing his jacket.

“Do I look like a good in-law?”

A small giggle escaped from you and you narrowed your eyes, tilting your head in an attempt to look serious.

“Very much so,” you said. “Bridgertons will be lucky to have you.”

“Not luckier than they will be to have you,” he said and you bit down on your lip, averting your gaze.

“I doubt it.”

“Why?”

“I’m not—” you paused for a moment, then shrugged your shoulders. “I’m just not sure I will fit in with them.”

“Love has blessed you, my dear,” he said. “Perhaps you should give them or yourself a chance.”

You heaved a sigh and tried to smile.

“Let’s just get through this dinner,” you said. “And I will see about that.”

“More than I hoped for,” he said, gesturing surrender before offering you his arm. “Let’s get through this dinner then.”

You took his arm and walked out of the house with him, trying your hardest to repress the fear tensing all your muscles. However, you seemed to be the only one who had that issue because Teddy kept humming himself a tune the whole way to the Bridgerton house while your aunt filled your uncle in about her many ideas for the wedding.

That nervousness was getting harder the more people talked about that impending doom.

When the carriage came to a stop and the coachman opened the door, you took a shaky breath, digging your fingernails into your palms. Your uncle helped you and your aunt out, Teddy jumping out of the carriage full of excitement. The four of you made your way up the stairs as the doors opened before you all stepped in, Lady Bridgerton, Anthony and Benedict waiting for you in the foyer.

“Lord and Lady Thorne,” Lady Bridgerton greeted your uncle and aunt, only for them to greet her back, Anthony and Benedict doing the same.

“And Y/N, my dearest!” Lady Bridgerton said, kissing you on the cheek. “Welcome! Teddy, Gregory and Hyacinth are so happy that you’re here.”

“Thank you Lady Bridgerton,” you said and Benedict shot you a warm smile before he bowed.

“Miss Y/N.”

“Mr. Bridgerton,” you greeted him back and Lady Bridgerton and your aunt exchanged smiles before you all made your way into the house. You narrowed your eyes at Anthony who glared at you back and Benedict looked between you two, frowning slightly.

“I heard you two met earlier?”

“We did,” you said drily and Anthony opened his mouth to say something but before he could, he was interrupted.

“Hello everyone,” the familiar cheerful voice reached you, making you turn your head to see Charlotte entering the house with a big smile on her face. “Thank you again for the invitation. My mama had to stay with the little ones but I hope my papa and I are enough to share the happiness!”

Charlotte’s father bowed, and quickly made his way to Lady Bridgerton and your uncle and aunt, and Anthony smiled softly at Lottie.

“Charlotte,” he said. “Welcome.”

Teddy held his breath, making you and Benedict turn to him.

“I forgot my gift!”

You frowned. “Teddy, uncle already—”

“No, my gift!” he said, already running out of the door and you rushed after him outside, with Benedict following you.

“Teddy!” you called out and he ignored you, approaching the carriage to pull himself up into it. You felt Benedict come up to you to stand by your side while you frowned but before you could go to Teddy he had already jumped out of the carriage, holding a couple of flowers from their stems with a proud grin on his face.

“I wanted to bring flowers for the ladies because ladies like flowers!” he said, holding them up for you to see them better, making Benedict chuckle. “And they’re all different, and this one will be for Miss Harlowe because it’s the prettiest one.”

You blinked a couple of times, taking a look at the different sized stems that looked awfully like they were ripped instead of cut. “Teddy, are those…from my garden?”

He nodded, happiness shining in his eyes and you couldn’t find it in your heart to scold him for it, so you cleared your throat.

“Oh?”

“They’re very beautiful Teddy,” Benedict said. “I’m sure Charlotte will love it, why don’t you go inside and give it to her?”

Teddy looked up at him, a small frown appearing on his face as his gaze darted between you and Benedict.

Oh.

Of course. He still feared Benedict would somehow make you leave just like Josie now that you were to be married.

“We’ll be right there,” you assured him. “Go ahead and give the ladies their flowers, they will be so happy.”

A bright smile lit up his face and he nodded, then ran back into the house, making you shake your head.

“Unbelievable.”

“He’s going to be a heartbreaker when he grows up,” Benedict said with a laugh and you heaved a sigh.

“That flower for Charlotte?” you said. “That’s gardenia.”

“Hard to grow?”

“One of the hardest,” you said, running a hand over your face. “Well at least he can appreciate the beauty of it.”

A silence fell upon you and you cleared your throat, then turned to go back into the house but Benedict touched your arm gently, making you stop.

“Can we—” his blue eyes searched your face. “Can we talk?”

It wasn’t fair that he looked this handsome even under the dim moonlight, and it certainly wasn’t fair that just with one look he managed to make your heart skip a beat. Reminding yourself to focus, you started fidgeting with the bracelet around your wrist.

“What is it?”

“Our engagement dinner,” he said with the ghost of a mischievous smile pulling at his lips and you bit inside your cheek to keep yourself from doing the same, then crossed your arms.

“I’m listening.”

He ran his hand through his black hair, messing it up in the most endearing way before he pointed at the house with his thumb.

“Only my mother and brother know about the details of our uh—sudden betrothal.”

You clicked your tongue. “Figures. Your brother had many opinions about it.”

“He tends to have that issue more often than you’d think,” he pointed out, nodding his head and you arched a brow.

“And?”

“And what?”

“What did he say to you?”

Benedict scrunched up his nose and scratched the back of his neck. “Oh he…congratulates us.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Try again.”  

“He wished us a lifetime of happiness.”

“Benedict,” you said, disbelief apparent in your tone and he cleared his throat, waving a hand in the air.

“He may have mentioned something about you being as sweet as a viper, now that I think about it.”

“Ah.”

“And that he would ask mother to pray for me because I would need it.”

“He’s not completely wrong,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “You might need a little more than a prayer if you’re insistent on spending a lifetime with me though.”

That playful light started glimmering in his eyes. “Looking forward to it.”

“I should gift your mother a Bible or something in case she wants to perform an exorcism on me.”

“Come on now,” he scoffed as if the mere idea was absurd. “You’re not being fair.”

“I think I am.”

“No you’re not,” he said. “A Bible? Teddy brought all the ladies in the house flowers, it’s quite obvious you will need to step it up when it comes to gifts.”

A laughter you couldn’t stop escaped from you and you pursed your lips together to hide it, ignoring his roguish smirk.

“So before we go in there,” you said, desperate to appear nonchalant. “It would be better if we established certain things about this…” you motioned between you. “Whatever this is.”

“Agreed,” Benedict said. “I actually took it upon me to fill them in on details because they kept asking me questions about everything between us.”

“That’s great,” you said. “I’ll just tell them the same then, because I’m not really good at…you know. Sharing things with people.”

“Shocking information,” he noted and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Shut it,” you said. “What did you tell them?”

“Well, Daphne asked when things started between us,” he said. “I told her that I found myself thinking of proposing to you within the season after the flower exhibition. Dreaming of our future together and such.”

You snapped your fingers. “That’s such a good lie. How did you come up with it?”

His gaze stopped on you for a moment, a look you couldn’t quite decipher crossing his face but it was gone as soon as it came before he took a deep breath.

“The painting,” he said. “I figured it’d be more convincing.”

You nodded, trying to ignore the way your stomach did a happy flip upon remembering the painting.

“Alright,” you breathed out. “When did we fall in love?”

His head shot up. “What?”

“I mean the whole ton will believe we’re in love, we must have our story straight,” you said. “Any idiot could propose to someone when they’re infatuated. When did we realize it was true love and not some sort of infatuation?”

He didn’t even pause to think about it. “Greenhouse.”

“We weren’t supposed to be unchaperoned at the greenhouse, Benedict.”

Hearing his name from your lips made him smile slightly but he didn’t comment on it.

“Poetry reading then?”

You made a face. “Kitty was talking about how you would propose to her by the end of the season during the said poetry reading right behind me, that’s hardly romantic.”

He hummed. “I wasn’t aware you knew the meaning of the word romantic.”

“It’s a nonsense belief I must play into,” you said, rolling your eyes. “That’s what it means. So?”

“The night of the theatre.”

Your breath got caught in your throat when the memory of the rooftop hit you, making you bite at your lip.

“Now that I think about it, we did push our luck I think,” you muttered and Benedict shrugged his shoulders.

“Third time was the charm,” he said. “But no, I’m not talking about the rooftop. I’m talking about the play.”

“We didn’t talk during the play.”

“Okay it’s never—” he paused. “I think we’re looking at it the wrong way.”

“What do you mean?”

A sad smile appeared on his face. “No one ever falls in love at the same time, someone always falls in love first.”

You both knew what he was referring to, and you averted your eyes from his to take a look at their garden.

You wanted to tell him it wasn’t love, that he couldn’t possibly have fallen in love with you. It was lust at the very best, an infatuation he had convinced himself as love. He was going to realize that sooner or later, and when he did he would resent you, and it was going to turn into hate in no time and—

No.

You weren’t going to think about that now.

“How about this?” his voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you swallowed thickly, turning your gaze to him. “I realized it was true love at the night of the poetry reading, and you realized it was true love during—”

“The dance,” you cut him off. “That would also play into how we…uh—were discovered after your proposal.”

A silence fell upon you for a moment and his gaze locked into yours.

“Y/N, we—” he started but was cut off when someone cleared their throat and you both turned your heads.

“Hello lovebirds,” Eloise joked and pointed back with the geranium she was holding, no doubt Teddy’s gift to her. “You’re expected for dinner. We can’t start without the guests of honor and I’m starving here.”

You nodded and took a deep breath, then offered her a smile.

“Of course. I didn’t notice the time.”

She nodded at Benedict. “Is he trying to convince you not to change your mind? Considering marriage is a prison that no sane person would want?”

“Eloise,” Benedict said with a sigh and she held up her hands.

“Fine, fine…”

Well, Eloise did have a point there, marriage was a prison but at this point, there was nothing you could do but walk into it.

“Shall we?” Benedict asked and offered you his arm, and you placed your hand on his arm, trying to ignore the sparks rushing through you.

“Yeah,” you said. “Let’s go, I’m starving as well.”

                                            *

It seemed that everyone was having fun at the dinner. Charlotte’s father was a sweet man, and he had gotten along well with your uncle in no time, Lady Bridgerton and your aunt no doubt planning the wedding, and Teddy, Gregory and Hyacinth were all on the other side of the table, talking and giggling. Charlotte had been seated next to Anthony, and they had been in a very deep conversation since the beginning of the dinner.  Daphne especially seemed very excited but perhaps because Benedict had warned her about it before, she managed to control herself and keep from asking about the plans for the wedding.

Even though it was a total sham, you had to admit you and Benedict had put up a very convincing performance so far. Perhaps it was because no one had pulled you or Benedict into a conversation yet, but you could feel the stolen glances and you were sure that sooner or later—

“So,” Lord Harlowe said, “The lovers at the table!”

And as it turned out, it would be sooner.

“Must we wait until the dessert or will you tell us the details about the proposal now?”

You tried to swallow down the nervousness and reached out to grab your glass, then took a huge sip as Benedict sat up straighter.

“The proposal?”

“Or anything really!” Charlotte said with a smile, making Anthony steal a look at her before turning to you both. “You refused to share your plans with even me, Benny. We tell each other everything!”

Anthony pressed his lips together before taking a sip of his wine while Daphne motioned at Benedict.

“I cannot believe you kept it a secret from all of us.”

“I’m sure he had his reasons, Daph.”

“I didn’t want you to scare my betrothed off, that’s enough of a reason,” Benedict said and Eloise grinned.

“And what was the reply when you proposed?” she asked. “I’m curious about that. How does one answer a proposal rather than running away?”

“Eloise—” Lady Bridgerton said but she was interrupted.

“I said yes.”

“She said of course,” you and Benedict talked at the same time and you pulled your brows together to shoot him a confused look.

“Of course?” you repeated as Anthony cleared his throat and you snapped your fingers. “I uh…I believe I said yes, of course.”

“I can hardly remember anything because I was incredibly nervous,” Benedict added in a haste and Hyacinth let out a breath.

“Were you scared she would say no, Benedict?”

“I was in fact convinced she would say no.” Benedict said and you nodded.

“I know the feeling.”

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly and Benedict bit down a smile.

“Well, I did tell you that you would fall in love,” your aunt said, pointing at you. “You tempted fate too much my dear, you always do.”

“And when did you two fall in love?” Charlotte asked, excitement laced in her tone and Benedict and you exchanged glances.

“After our first dance,” you said curtly, taking another sip of your drink just so that you could keep yourself busy and a silence fell upon the table before Benedict took a deep breath.

“For me it was the night of the poetry reading,” Benedict said, his voice soft. “I’ve had one moment with her, a fleeting one really, but I knew before our conversation was over—before she walked away from me yet again,” he added, making the rest of the table chuckle. “As she does all the time since the first day we met.”

You could feel your heartbeat getting faster as you stared at him, unable to look away from his piercing gaze.

“But I knew,” he said. “Right there and then, that she is the inspiration to my very soul. That she will hold my heart forever.”

A chorus of aww raised from everyone around the table and you felt a fire spread over your face before you covered your face with your hands, your heartbeat almost deafening in your ears. You lowered your hands, unable to stop the smile on your face and Benedict held your hand to squeeze it, the familiar desire shooting through you from his simple touch. Your aunt pressed a hand on her chest while Eloise rolled her eyes, and your uncle shook his head slightly.

“Young love,” he muttered while Charlotte’s father raised his glass.

“Hear hear.”

“Excuse me for a moment please,” you managed to say as you pushed your chair back, then left the dinner table. You passed the hallway to open the window, the cold air hitting your face immediately but it did nothing to soothe the burning on your face, on your whole body.

You knew it was merely a performance for the others, to make them believe in your love so that there would be no questions asked about your betrothal, so that they would all feel happy about it but even you couldn’t help but feel that warmth in your chest, spreading through your system.

You weren’t supposed to feel anything like this. It was all a lie, and the minute you lowered your guard…

You knew better.

The footsteps coming closer made you turn your head and you offered Benedict a small smile.

“I just needed some air,” you said, motioning at the window. “I won’t be long.”

He smiled back and leaned sideways to the wall, crossing his arms. “Are you alright?”

Your eyes flickered over his handsome face and you took a deep breath.

“Yeah,” you said before you sat on the windowsill. “You have no reason to worry, I know it was all pretend.”

Benedict paused for a moment and swallowed thickly, pursing his lips together as if he was trying to hold back the words. Silence fell upon you as you found yourself admiring his beauty almost in a daze before you remembered to snap out of it, then threw your shoulders back.

“We should go back,” you murmured and stood up to step past him, but he touched your arm to make you stop.

“Y/N?”

You looked up at him. “Hm?”

“I didn’t get a chance to tell you earlier,” he said “You look absolutely breathtaking.”

You pulled your brows together, looking at the hallway before turning to him again.

“It’s just us here,” you said. “No one else to hear it, you don’t need to say that.”

“I’m not saying it for anyone else to hear it,” he said with a soft smile. “I’m saying it because it’s the truth.”

Your eyes snapped up to his, that fire over your cheeks getting even worse as you blinked a couple of times, at a loss for words while that pleasant warmth burst through your chest, spreading through your bloodstream. You opened your mouth, then closed it again and walked past him in a haste to go back to the dining room, trying your hardest to stop the smile curling your lips.

Chapter 11

[min-hoax]

Thank you for fools paradise drabble 🥰. I am not sure if you are taking requests? It’s 100% up to you if you want to bcs it’s your blog, but would it be possible to get an angel mask drabble, maybe on their wedding day?

Babe, you read my mind! I honestly miss writing for Angel Mask even tho I have struggled with writers block for what has seemed like two years! 😭😭😔

Here you go. I hope you enjoy :) It’s waAy past my bedtime so please ignore words that don’t make sense! 😭

till death do us…

Pairing: Angel Mask Yoongi x F! Reader

Warning(s): At the end (present day), mentions of kidnapping, mob business/situation, insinuated sexc time (but NO SMUT I RPOMISE),

It was always that little cold cold heart of his that beat incredibly fast, only for you.

His hands were clammy and he swore that if he looked in the mirror, he'd see droplets of perspiration dotted on the crown of his head.

The day he never thought would happen was at the tip of his hands, filled with love and pride as he watched you walk his way, a bouquet held tight in your hands, in your lower belly as you smiled so brightly, illuminating the room with what only he could describe as pure happiness.

Jungkook was at your side, leading you to the altar and to Yoongis’ awaiting hand. He’d seen you cry weeks before, wrapping you in his arms at the fact that your father was not present - or alive to walk you down the aisle. But when Yoongi offered to ask Jungkook, you nodded, and Jungkook didn’t hesitate to do as was asked of him.

And truly, Yoongi thanked him, hugging him with might as he had made you so happy to oblige. There was a part of him that felt… ashamed for the undisclosed transgression that he had done years before. Your tears always debilitated him, but like always, the other part of him - the immoral man that stood before you, simply was apathetic, selfishly keeping you to his side.

He never thought he’d live long enough to fall and love and marry the love of his life, but the day was here, his whole world walking towards him.

And it was just as you wished. A small get together with trusted business partners, and close family members.

Yoongi looked at you and only you, deciding to place his hate for his parents at the back of his mind because they didn't matter. They never have. He had plans of course, that even though Jungkook was at your side, he stayed with the thought of asking his own father to accompany you down the isle.

But his parents didn’t agree and didn’t show.

All for marrying you.

They too had plans; for Yoongi to marry into a family that wasn’t much different from theirs, criminals with blood money, running and never safe. Yoongi declined. The second he saw you, you were marked as his.

“Hello, Mrs. Min.” Yoongi whispered teasingly, your hand pressing tightly against his. He could see you were nervous from that little quirk that came from your furrowed brow, but yet you smiled, huffing a small hi his way.

“You may kiss the bride.”

And hell, like he’d have to be told twice. With vigorous want, he cupped your cheeks in his pale hands, locking your lips together that placed the last nail on the coffin. You were now his wife in the underground hellhole he resided - but no, he’d taken his own word that he’d never drag you down and involve you in anything that had to do with the risks of his position.

In a few years, he’ll retire and hand the reigns to his trusted partner, the doe eyed innocent looking man, who had absolutely nothing of innocence inside. Jungkook would be a good leader, after all, Yoongi raised him and taught the man everything he knew.

And hopefully, after he retired, you’d have a family of your own - a child or two, living life at peace until you were frail and grey.

“I’m so happy.” You voiced, your head on his chest as you both swayed to the music, your first dance as husband and wife.

Though you didn’t smile, he could see it in your eyes, gleaming with contentment. Yoongi smiled. This was all he ever wanted. “I love you.” He said, pecking your cheek, and your lips, causing you to chuckle.

“I love you too. So much, you have no idea.”

He did.

He loved you to an extent that had no measure and he knew that by your side, it was a euphoria that he couldn’t explain or comprehend.

“What do you say… that we kick everyone out, and we get started on our honeymoon, hm?” Your laugh was otherworldly, your head thrown back at the sight of your husband’s eyebrows playfully jumping up and down.

“Whatever you say, Mr. Min.”

“No, honey. It’s whatever you say.”

PRESENT DAY:

Yoongi smiled with sadness at the picture on his desk, gently bouncing Myunghee on his lap as she scuffled, wanting to cry.

The photo depicted the both of you, your white dress flowing on your body as he carried you on his back, your legs wrapped around his waist with a humorous expression on your face.

He no longer saw that light - that innocence and happiness in your eyes.

He had washed it all away.

“Shhh, sweetheart.” With a peck he wrapped a hand on her raven hair, maneuvering her tiny body in his chest to make her comfortable.

"Mommy's fine. I promise. She just needs more time to adjust. I promise, as soon as she’s out of that room, we’ll be a happy family. Just like how we talked about. How do you feel about being a big sister, hm? I love you so so so much.”

What did you think? He had never taken words too light. When you voiced your never ending love for him in your vows, he tucked your actions into his cold, beating heart and with stubbornness, he held tight with a vice grip.

Till death do us both part.

And he’d be sure that was a promise you were going to keep.

[chasingpj]

“Would you be able to write a blurb with the prompt “Don’t let this one go. he’s perfect for you."?? Love your content btw and please don’t feel pressured at all!!” So srry I didn’t specify- but this ask is for Percy 😭

[𝟏𝟐:𝟒𝟐 𝐩𝐦]

"Don’t let this one go. He's perfect for you.”

pairing: percy jackson x reader

warning: none?

category: slice of life, blurb

Silena purses her lips, spoon slowly swirling her tea. You don’t dare look at your sister, the older girl sending you knowing eyes. Already the side of your face feels her demanding presence and she waits for you to give in. You couldn’t avoid her forever but you still try as if you weren’t sitting right across from her.

“Y/n,” she says, her words leaving her lips like a tired mother. Shutting your eyes tight, you wait for her scolding. “Don’t do this again.” 

“I can’t,” you say softly, eyes leaving your posh surroundings and retreating to the cup in your hands. Silena frowns, a soft sigh of sympathy leaving her lips. 

Your last breakup was hard. Hard enough to yell at the sky at your mother, begging for an answer as to why you were faced with so much turmoil. In the aftermath, you had lots of support. Your sisters helped during your heartbreak but it didn’t stop you from becoming so cynical. 

A child of Aphrodite who vowed to never love again? You were a walking irony for years, dodging anyone and everyone who showed romantic interest in you. You’re sure your mother has arranged many admirers to test your oath and time and time again, you’ve proved to her you were serious. 

“Percy is a great guy and he really likes you. C’mon.” Silena’s practically begging but you hardly flinch. You’ve spent too long guarding your heart to undo it all like this. 

Sure, Percy is handsome and sweet but so was your last boyfriend. If it all falls apart again, you don’t know if your heart can take it. 

“Y/n, please. Don’t let this one go. He's perfect for you.” 

Silena’s eyes are pleading. All the other guys who pined for you didn’t feel right. She never bothered you about your oath unlike your other siblings. They would try to convince you you just needed a rebound, someone to distract you but Silena never agreed. She was sure a time would come where you’d met the right person. That one day her natural intuition would tell her, this is the one for, Y/n! 

The day came when she saw you and Percy sharing a meal at the park outside of New Rome University. The way he looked at you, how he made you laugh and smile, it was perfect. She couldn’t see you with anyone else. 

Even now as she waits for your response, she knows you feel it too but you’re ignoring it, choosing to crawl back into your bubble. 

There’s a moment where the two of you communicate with your eyes. There’s a back and forth between you refusing, her begging and then her asking you to be real; you couldn’t refuse the chemistry, the obvious pull from the fates as much as you tried.

“Fine!” You frown, heart already beating fast with anxiety. “I’ll go on ONE date, only if he asks.” 

“Oh, he will,” Silena sits back in her seat triumphantly. She already knew because Percy had asked her if he should ask. As she picks up her phone to text him the okay, she has a single passing thought.

I’m so going to be her maid of honor at this wedding.

[femoso-seben]

Baba Yaga Task force 141 X John Wick! reader

Tw: animal abuse, references to pregnancy, mention of miscarriages, blood, gore, violence, death

Gender neutral uses Mx for Mr/ Mrs it’s gender neutral.

Married life— you never saw that for yourself. You also never saw yourself fall for a military man. It almost feels like a sick joke. An unsanctioned killer meeting a legal one is a sick joke.

You met him on a work trip, honestly how you two got each other’s phone number was quite the funny ordeal. You met in line to be seated, turns out he was your seatmate. You gave him no mind, occasionally you two would give each other nods.

You notice him at the same hospital you. You were on a mission, and he had a bullet wound. Your eyes lock and life continues. With one of your work friends, you have noticed him in a group across the restaurant from you. You locked eyes, a strange thought passed between us, why are you here?

The last straw was sitting at your window seat only to hear a low “bloody hell.” You look up to find him again. You couldn’t help but laugh. This is ridiculous.

“I see you again stranger,” you smile. He scratched his head mumbling some more and sitting down.

“What’s your name?” You ask as he sits down next to you.

“Simon, you?”

“[Name], nice to meet you.”

You two had to exchange numbers, it was too coincidental. You only talk for a few minutes before going back to your own devices. You kept getting more job requests. With a sigh you picked on in England, you were heading there so might as well do a job there.

You two didn’t talk for a few months, you honestly forgot he existed. He texted you out of the blue, it was small and simple. It was a short conversation. Never too long never too deep. Occasionally when you were in England and so was he you meet up for coffee or tea.

It was casual— situational. You saw nothing long-term with him, not even a romantic relationship maybe just acquaintances. Two years— every six or more months you two would have a small conversation. Two years of on and off, before it got really serious. Before he got serious.

It was like a dam had broken loose. You answer your texts, more often. You two ended up calling too. It was fast a tumble and the relationship roared to life. It was all in a span of three months.

He moved in with you— into your expensive New York home. He brought his dog with him, Riley, a cute German shepherd. A well-trained one. Living with Simon, you learn one thing for sure— he’s a man of routine. He established on quickly.

We kept our jobs private and our relationship on the download. It took him a few months to mention his work— it was in passing that you learned he’s a special operator in the military. You are a traveling art appraiser.

You two both agreed, that work is something we don’t talk about. It was another three years of quiet dating both heavily busy. He was gone for months sometimes better half of a year, which was perfectly fine for you, you’re busy too. Very busy. It was five years into your relationship did he brought up marriage. He’s… joining a dangerous task force and wants to seal the deal.

You said yes— but before you could plan the wedding, you had to leave the game. Leave the underworld. The continental and the high table won’t let you go so easily. You’ll have to pay a debt. Before the two weeks were up you must complete an impossible task— kill the three most prominent underworld leaders. With one blood oath later, you were free.

Free from being the Baba Yaga.

Free from being Wick.

Free to marry.

Free to be a doting partner for Simon.

By the time you come back, you already started doing venue shopping for the wedding. You both agree to a private wedding with just your friends, he had none who are civilians, and he chose to keep his career away from you.

The wedding was sweet. Private with less than fifty people attended. The wedding ring barrier is Riley obedient and sweet carrying the pillow with the rings. You chose the rings, they’re thin and plain something that denotes marriage but also could be simply overlooked as accessories. The world didn’t need to know you two were married just you two.

You became a Riley. You didn’t want your old name— not the name of a killer. Neither did he, but you made it clear, you were happy to have his last name. And he was happy to live in your house. He had a slight chip on his shoulder— he wanted to provide for everything.

You came to a compromise. He pays for most of the housing utilities and you pay for the house tax. His money is the family’s money and yours was yours— and the children’s. You didn’t argue on that— you both know he could quit his job and you two could live rather comfortably on your money. But you could clearly tell providing made him very happy.

It’s what made him feel worthy… worthy of you.

Three years of marriage and most of the time he was away, always on the clock even on break. Only a few people in his line of work knew you existed, a CIA agent and his captain. No one else. And that was fine with you.

Retirement life is great. You spent most of your time figuring out what you wanted to do with your millions. Three years in and the two of you were considering starting a family. A few children would be too bad, You’re retired and Simon has mentioned retiring from the military, no time soon but in time for raising kids. You never consider raising kids. Hell, you never consider marriage or leaving the underworld life.

“My love,” you turn to see Simon setting his military bag down and rushing to you for a hug. “How have you been?” He murmurs.

“Not much Sí just wondering where I put the nursery.” You hum. From the backyard, you hear Riley storming into the living room and jumping onto Simon.

Life was blissful slow and trouble-free.

Until you decided to walk the street with Riley. Coming back from your surrogate who’s 3 months pregnant, lovely woman. Simon would bring his military friends over— forced by his team. You’re are very surprised, how strange this is but you don’t mind the new guess.

As you walk down the street at night Riley on highly guarded. You weren’t scared and had your gun in hand. Simon insisted you get gun training. Something to do with his pass. He only said he lost everyone he cared dearly and he did not want to lose you too. You didn’t have the heart to tell him you already knew how to shoot a gun.

You kept your mouth shut, he took some pride in protecting you— thinking he was protecting you. Why would you take that away from him? His sense of peace and duty? You didn’t mind playing into his fantasy. It’s rather cute seeing him be all protective, you never had that in your life until now. It was everything you wanted— to be wanted. You even got your concealed license to lessen his stress. Playing the perfect spouse was very… peaceful— heavenly really.

Riley’s sharp bark regains your attention. You look up to see a group of men running into the alleyway. You step into the shadows and hope to avoid them. They were speaking in Russian.

“What the hell man! You killed a Pregnant woman!” You froze and looked at them silently.

“She got in the way,” one brash boy sneers.

They continue to argue about killing the woman— they were only meant to rob her. Riley stayed silent but he was ready, ready to fight. You hear them stumbling closer, you make a loud noise and walk from the darkness.

This has nothing to do with you— your eyes caught something. That purse— just like your surrogate. You look at all of them up and down, at the stolen items in their hands. You recognize them all.

Your heart breaks.

That lovely woman— Anne. They killed Anne and your baby.

“What you looking at?” One points their gun at you. Riley begins to bark at them sneering and snarling his teeth at them.

“You killed Anne,” you mutter silently. You picked the surrogate— a friend of a friend. She was so happy to help you two. A thanks for helping her get het out of an abusive relationship. She had her life ahead of her.

With one swing at you, Riley jumps up and latch onto the arm. Another shot Riley in the stomach. You swing hard, mind going blank as your training kicks in, systematically each of them out. Breaking their hands, arms, and neck. You didn’t feel like letting them live.

Once you were done you pulled out your phone and called for a reservation for dinner. You left the coins on the body and ran home to get your car and take Riley to the vet.

Simon is not going to be happy, about this. About his dog, about our surrogate, about the baby. That is not the news he needed. But you called, he deserves to know.

“What’s wrong love?” He answer his tone tired and muddled. Evidently, you woke him up.

“I have bad news,” you begin.

He couldn’t come back early, he was deployed in a foreign country. The news was bad and you know Simon would be worried until he gets back. More for you— he’s worried about your feelings. Sweet man.

He liked Anne. She was bubbly and kind. Happy to be a surrogate and a babysitter if needed. A friend’s friend. He wasn’t so sure about her but you could tell she had grown on him. She was a surrogate a few times.

The funeral was shocking. The culprits never caught— of course, they wouldn’t, you handle it. You called your contacts and told them to leave the bodies out for the police to find— victims of a gang shootout. You have Anne’s remaining family and a small sense of peace.

A week passes and you continue to look for another Surrogate. Adoption came to mind, you were adopted. Not by the best people— they used you like a child soldier… so be it. Your child will be happy, you promise them that.

Would Simon consider adoption?

Does he even want children after this… mess?

You checked in on Riley his wounds were recovering nicely. You rest in your bed sleeping soundly. Your husband be back in two days.

The loud sharp squeal of Riley awoken you to a house of eerie cold silence. You scramble to your feet and go looking for Riley, maybe he opened up his wound. You appear at the top of the stairs to see— that bastard.

“Arseni.” You called out coldly in Russian, as you slowly descended down the steps. Once a brother in arms, a friend, now he’s in your house beating your dog.

“Mx. Wick,” his thick Russian accent twists into a cold sneer as he inches closer to you. “You killed my son!” He screams in Russian. You cock your head to the side, as one of his men kicks Riley to the side. He let out a loud whimper and crashed into the ground. Unmoving and still.

Your cheeks feel like a molten and a burning hell fire seers into your cheek. You clench your hands until your knuckles turn white. Your nose flares, lips pull back into a sneer. You stared at Arseni, ready to punch him.

A sharp pain seers into your abdomen as one of his followers shoots you, three rush forward with metal bats and begin to beat you. You let out a low groan as the metal left large bruises on your right side. Your head rings out in agony as one hit you in the head. Your vision blurs violently as it slowly goes blotchy and red.

You kick one of them and rush to the kitchen pulling out knives and trying to get to a hidden gun in the cabinet. The three ran after you, hitting you in the back with their bats. You stumble forward crashing into your marble counter.

Your bloody broken hands grab onto a knife and violently slash the person behind you, cutting one of their neck. You grab him by the back of his head jab the knife up into his neck and watch as the life dies in his scared eyes. You threw his body at the nearest attacker and went for the other.

You shove the knife into his torso and repeatedly punch the man in the face, breaking his nose with the second punch. Blood spewed out like a faucet.

Pew!

A bullet rips through your right biceps and into the side of your cheeks. Before losing momentum. You spat the bullet out and shoved the man in your arms against the last attack. As you did so you repeatedly stabbed the bloody man in your fist in the neck. Blood shoots onto your chest, staining your white shirt red.

You rip the knife out of his neck and face the last attacker. You plunge the knife right into his right eye and he crumbles onto the ground. You stop for a second, breathing hard as your lungs burn from the lack of air. You never stop working out, but your skills truly did become rusty. You rush to the cabinets and retrieve the gun.

You’d tumble back to the living room, your house trashed and photos burning in the middle of the expensive rug you bought. Your lips are pulled into a sharp frowning sneer. You flip the coffee table over smothering the fire pit. You stumble to your dog, Riley whimpers as you touch him, he is alive.

You grab your keys and rush Riley back to the vet, for immediate care. You left him there overnight. As you drive back your body is bruised and sore. As you drive back a car crashes into yours.

“That’s yer hoose?” Soap gawks at the large modern sleek design of the house. It’s large with a large yard— how the bloody hell did Simon afford this?

Gaz pressed his face against the window a wide smile on his face, it was a beautiful home. Price also stared, it was so American in design. It looks like a nightmare to defend with all those windows.

“My partner bought it,” Ghost grunts. His brows knit together as he saw the front door wide open, the window around the door shattered and broken.

“What the fuckin’ hell—“ he floored the car to the garage and rushed out and into his house. His living was a mess blood and dents in the wall.

“[name]!” He shouts. Silence greets him back, and his heart stops. “Riley!” Not even his dog was around.

“What the fuckin’ hell happened here?” Gaz asks slowly walking into the ruined house. Besides the mess, he could tell this house was beautiful, expensive, and enviable.

“Whit hav we got here?” Soap mutters walking deeper into the house his accident seeping into his worried tone.

“Ghost!” He shouts, seeing the three dead men in the kitchen. Ghost tore into the room and froze, his heart sunk and he rushed in checking to see if anyone was his love. They weren’t. He looked around the room and noticed that the cabinet with the hidden gun was open. He looked in, the gun was gone.

Ring ring!

He booked it to his landline a retro thing that you insisted on keeping. He lifts it to his ears.

“Is this… [name]?” A woman asks.

“No, I’m their husband,” Simon states.

“Your dog Riley just came out of Surgery, you can pick him up later today.”

Ghost signs and sets the phone down. The lady had no idea where you went after you dropped off Riley. She did tell him you were covered in blood and looked beaten up. You had refused their help to call the police. His dog is safe— but you were gone, gone with the wind.

What is going on?

His house is messed up. These random bodies are in his house. His spouse missing! What is going on?

His heart bounds violently against his chest as his heart falls. Where where you? Where were you taken? His worst nightmare came true— losing you. His hands slightly shake and he lets out a long sigh.

“You ok mate?” Gaz asks touching him on his shoulder.

“My partner is missing.” Ghost simply states. He walked to the garage, your car was gone. Your really nice vintage car is gone. His brows furrow together as anxiety sets in.

Ghost walks back into his house and pulls out his phone to call you. He hears the faint ring of your ringtone upstairs. The second floor was normal, with no destruction. In your shared room the lamp was still on, and blankets were thrown to the side.

He walked back downstairs trying to think. His eyes widened and he pulled his computer out. Sometimes he forgot about the security cameras he hid in this house, in the panic he had forgotten he set them up. The task for gather around to see what’s going on.

Simon’s blood rushed away from his cheeks, and he paled at the sight. His love, his light being beaten to a bloody pulp on the floor by some thugs. He switches cameras to the kitchen and to his shock he witnesses you kill all three. He could have mistaken the first kill as an accident. But the others look calculating, methodical— you could fight?

He hadn’t brought up self-defense classes yet. He wanted to, just in case his job would affect you and the baby…

“Damn, they can fight,” Gaz mumbled with awe. He switches back to the living room camera and watches as you flip the dining room table over to put out the fire scoop up Riley and drive off.

“I didn’t know your spouse could speak Russian,” Price mumbles rubbing his chin.

“Neither did I,” Ghost furrowed his brow. What were you hiding?

Ring ring.

Ghost stands up and answers the phone, his heart falls into the pit into the pit of his stomach. His hands slightly tremble, your prize car was found run off the road in a hit-and-run, and you were nowhere to be found.

“Mx. Wick,” you look at the concierge of the continental Hecate and smile politely. It took a few hours to get to the Continental Hotel.

“Make me a dinner reservation,” you calmly state. You had to get rid of the bodies in your house before your husband got home. She smiles and nods and makes the call for your residence.

You slide a coin over, “I like a room,” she smiles and nods setting a room up for you. You left the hotel and moved down the sketchy alleyway until you found an Asian restaurant. You knocked on the door as an old man appeared— a doctor.

“Doctor,” you greet.

“Mx. Wick,” he greets back letting you in. He was a black-market doctor. He patched you up and you limp back to the continental and heading back to sleep nicely.

You had asked Hecate to set up a meeting with the manager, Bereket Gerhold, you needed him to set up a meeting with Arseni. You sign close the curtains and go to sleep.

You’ll call Simon once this is all over. He must be worried. You aren’t the type to leave him— in the dark. He’s probably worried sick… you weren’t planning on leaving him high and dry after bringing his work friends over. How embarrassing, what a mess. You hope he didn’t find the bodies, how do you explain that? Any of this? You have a sleepless night.

Simon stared at the CCTV. He’s in shock, your Ford Mustang Mach 1, was slammed into violently by a black Mercedes. He watched it over and over again. How the Mercedes shoved your prized car out of the frame and into an abandoned warehouse where the cameras were long broken.

A bus came around. There was nobody left behind, just blood and broken car parts. Ghost caught a glimpse of the logo, the Continental Hotel. He thanks the police and leaves the station to find his team waiting for him.

“Where ur we gonna go?” Soap asks as Ghost reapproves the care.

“The continental hotel,” he states gruffly.

“There’s one in New York City, mate,” Gaz spoke up after looking up the hotel.

They drove off. Ghost had been to the hotel, he had seen it here and there. It’s an international hotel, for the rich. What were you doing there? He knows you’re rich but why go to a hotel and not the hospital? Not call him?

It’s late when they arrive at the continental. They walked in and people turned to them. They were outsiders— out of place. They ignore them and continue to walk to the front door.

“May I help you?” A woman asks.

“I want to know if my spouse is here.” Ghost firmly states.

“Name?” The woman asks.

“[name] Riley.”

“We have no one under that name.”

“…[Name] Wick.” The woman stops and looks up at him before a pleasant smile graces her lips. She picked up a phone and called someone. Simon felt his heart race, you were here.

“There are guests down here for you,” the woman says. She nods and hangs up. She handed over a key and told him the room number.

You sigh and stare at the door. Simon will be here soon. You change out of your bloody clothes and into a bathrobe. You chuck your bloody close into the bathtub.

You freeze and look at the door. The door handle slowly turns. You frown as a woman walks through the door a gun in hand. Arseni must have put a price on your head.

“Cordula,” you greet politely. “Wrong room?”

“Right room,” she pulls out her gun you just manage to dodge the bullet. You lunge at her wrestling her to the ground. She knees you in the groans a few times but you don’t let go slamming her back repeatedly into the ground.

She wrestled her hand free and shot you in the shoulder. You wince and let go of her. You back off holding your left shoulder. The door burst open and you see the burly body of your husband. He froze, seeing Cordula with a gun. Before she could even move to point it at him he had her on the ground pinned.

“Soap!” He calls in a Mohawk man steps in and switches places with him.

“My love!” He pulls you into a deep hug. He mumbles worriedly into your ear, “Why aren’t you at the hospital?” He pulls slightly away to gaze at your face. Touching it with tender care and love.

His eyes widen as he notices the blood oozing from your left shoulder. Something hit you in the side and you fall into his arms someone from outside of the hotel shot you in the side. Simon grabbed you and rushed you away from the window and out of the room.

“Shit,” you grumble in more pain. Now both sides of your torso have a gun wound.

“Gaz call the police—“

“Don’t.” You snap. You stagger to your feet and knock on the door next to your room. A familiar man answered it.

“Mx. Wick,” he greets everyone shocked, “are you working again.”

“No, can I narrow your phone?” You ask politely and a little curtly. Velimer steps aside and lets you in.

You call Hecate and tell her of the situation of the attempted murder on the continental ground by Cordula and the assassin out of the continental. She was understanding but a little dismissive.

“My husband almost called the police, I advise you to solve this, also summon the doctor to the continental I’ll be at the bar.” You hang up and give a curt nod to your neighbor.

“Let’s go downstairs,” you tell your husband and his friends.

“What do we do with her?”

“Bring her along the continental will deal with her.” You stagger off to the elevator. Simon snapped out of his shock and moved to support you even though you couldn't stand.

“You need to go to the hospital now.” He urges worry laced into his tone. You needed to tell him the truth but where do you begin? What do you say? How do you explain the madness of the underground crime world to an outsider?

Hecate was waiting for you when the elevator door opened. She took Cordula and you know her life is at an end. You stagger off to the bar. Your husband frowns watching as the strange concierge takes your attacker away.

Why were you so calm? What is going on? Why aren’t you going to the hospital? So many thoughts run through his mind as he chases after you.

“Love,” he calls out, “you need to go to the hospital, not the bar.”

“Relax—“

“You are bleeding!” He snaps not directly at you but at the whole situation. He’s stressed and very on edge. The one thing he spent years trying to protect is injured and he has no idea why. How wasn’t safe, this hotel isn’t safe, sure the hospital would be safer than here.

“Simon,” you sigh, he wouldn’t understand, “I am the safest here.” He looks at you strangely and watches as you walk to the bar.

Ghost stared at your staggering shuffle. Why were you acting so strange? He turns around to turn to his team. They had the same look. The strange woman comes back and Ghost approaches her.

“What is going on?”

“What do you mean?” She asks politely.

“Why did she attack my spouse?” He asks in a low dark tone. The woman pursed her lips before breaking into a smile.

“Codula broke the rules—“

“What rules?” Soap steps toward.

“The rules of the continental.” The woman smiles.

An old staggering man rushes into the hotel, the clerk points towards the bar and he waves rushing by with a man old fashion doctor's bag.

“Who’s attacking my spouse?”

“Have they not told you?” The woman leans forward. Ghost looks down at her tag, Hecate. She smiles.

Ghost backed up and b-lined it to the bar. He found you sitting in a recliner getting your shoulder wound checked out.

“My love,” he calls out his tone shaky but stern. You look with tired eyes and his heart aches in pain. You look so exhausted and tired. Are you scared?

“Who’s attacking you?”

“His name is Arseni Anastas—“

“The Russian mafia boss!” His eyes widen. He rushes over grabbing your hand gingerly and with care.

“What happened?” He searches your eyes with a worried expression. Your calm gaze didn’t help ease him, were you just petrified that you just couldn’t comprehend what was going on?

You calmly pull out a cigarette which is something you do only in times of stress if the furrowed brow deepens. You took a puff and blew out the smoke.

“Simon,” you softly stare leaning your forehead against his. “What I will tell you will change your opinion of me forever, you might hate me, you might want to leave me, but can you promise me you’ll listen?” You ask holding your pinky out for a promise.

“Promise,” he utters linking his pinky with yours.

“I am a former hitman. Arseni Anastas is targeting me because I recently killed his son, who killed our surrogate and child.” You answer with a concise tone.

He bolts up and takes a walking lap around you and the doctor who moved down to your torso to clean the wound. He looked at you before looking away there was a pained look in his gaze.

“Why didn’t you walk away?” He finally asks.

“Anne didn’t deserve to die like that,” you state taking another drag of the cigarette, “besides I found those fuckers after they did it. They weren’t remorseful.” You hum.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I didn’t realize it was Arseni’s bastard son… still would have killed him.” You hum. The doctor finishes up and you hand over a gold coin. He gives you a nod before hustling away.

“Would you and your friends like drinks?” You turn to your passing husband.

“Don’t run away from this conversation—“

“I’m not Simon, but I hate for your friends to stand around clueless. So let me get them some drinks and you can collect your thoughts before we talk again.” Your state.

Ghost and look at you eyes widening, Are you always this commanding? It’s so different. You used to go with the flow. He watches as you walk out of the bar dragged his team to the bar and paid for their first few drinks.

They sat at the counter giving you two some space. You got Simon some whisky and sat it down on the table and sat on the recliner again. You gesture to the other seat and Simon sat down.

“How long?”

“I’ve been one my entire life raised in this— economy.” You hum taking in another drag of the cigarette and letting the smoke set in your lungs before breathing it out.

“When did you quit?”

“Right before our wedding.” He stared at his glass of whisky. He couldn’t look at you.

“You lied about your job—“

“It’s my part-time job,” you correct, “it wasn’t a lie just not the full truth.” He down the drink and look you in the eyes. There was nothing but betrayal in his gaze. How could he ever trust you again?

“Is that where you got all this… blood money?”

“… Naturally.” He felt his gaze burn into your face searching for humanity. You like to look away but that is cruel for him, he deserves to know.

“So my dog was hurt because of you.” You take a sip of your bourbon and sigh. You feel the divorce coming.

“Arseni’s son…. Would have mugged me either way and you trained Riley to defend me, he would have gotten hurt either way. I saw red that night and killed him and his friends.”

You look into his pained eyes. He could barely look at you. You set your drink barely drink on the table and leaned in. Letting the smoke of your preferred poison ruin your mind for a microsecond.

“Simon, they broke continental rules trying to kill me.” You tilt your head and stare at him, “I am more dangerous than Arseni.”

You stand up and look at his friends before turning back to Simon, “Go home, let me handle this.”

“Are ye crazy,” the two of you turn around to see the Mohawk one, Soap was it… yelling “Ghost yer gonna let them do ‘is by themselves?” You turn back to your husband, Ghost? He looked at you.

“What’s your plan?” Simon asks after a moment of silence. You know he worked hard on controlling his emotions, he didn’t want to be like his father.

“I’m going to have a meeting with Arseni, he leaves me alone or I kill him.” You state. He frowns, that wasn’t a plan.

“Do you know what you're doing?”

“Yes, Sí I’ve been killing far longer than you, do you know what you're doing?” I ask. Not to be condescending but as a warning. He looked at you, you didn’t know to ask condescending questions, so he didn’t take it as that.

“And how do you know he won’t shoot you before the meeting.”

“You can’t kill on continental ground.” You state. They all look at you strangely. They all had the same look, what kind of rule is that?

“Surely you do realize the underground world is far older than your government? Then your military? Then the political wars? I live in a world of honor and regulations. I am the safest here.” You reiterate your words from before. You could see realization dawn on his face.

“How are you going to… kill him? What if he stays here permanently? You won’t be able to kill him,” Simon states.

“Well… your CIA friend must be looking for him. Either I get him or your government gets him.”

“So you're using us—“

“Don't overthink it, love,” you said looking down at him, “my other plan was to scorch the earth. Originally I was going to hunt him down… personally that’s still my preferred method but I like to end this as on as possible.”

“Damn Ghost yoo found yourself a spitfire!”! Soap cheers which earned him a glare.

“Oh,” your turn back to Simon. “I owe a Blood Oath to an Italian mobster.”

“What does that mean?” He leans back folding his arms. He’s guarding himself from you.

“If he comes to find me, I must do what he asks. It is a blood debt.” You state firmly.

“And why do you owe him one?”

“Because I left this life to marry you.” You state which took him by surprise.

“Can we talk in the lobby?” Simon asks setting his empty glass down. The confusion was gone and he made up his mind, or at least he came to redemption.

You two walk into the semi-quiet lobby the air conditioning drowning out some of the muttering of other people. A few turn to you, of course, they did. You two found a small corner to stand and talk.

“…why didn’t you tell me?” That was all he could say.

“I didn’t want to chase you away.” You honestly tell him. He cups your face rubbing his thumb tenderly against your cheeks.

“I wish you told me before all this.”

“This is pretty last minute.” He slightly cracks a smile.

“Let me help you.” He murmurs pulling you into a hug.

“I don’t want you getting hurt.” You mutter back.

“[name] I can’t know you're doing something dangerous without me… I can’t lose you, too.” You pulled you close and kissed your lips tenderly. As you pull away you see the manager walking in.

”[name],” you pull away and he turns around to look at the older man. He’s in his 50s or 60s by the look of him.

“Berket,” you greet walking up to him.

“And what do I owe the pleasure of Mx. Wick?” He asks with a fond smile.

“Set up a meeting with Arseni, I like to chat.” You fold your arm.

“Why?”

“Simply we need to chat,” he stared into your eyes before nodding.

“You must be their husband,” Berket turns to Simon with a strange smile looking up and down.

Ghost felt his body tense under his gaze. He gently grabs onto your arm protectively. He didn’t like this man, how he talked to you like you were a child. It infuriated him.

“They did quite a lot to leave this life for you, an almost impossible task.” He walks past and towards Hecate.

“What does he mean, love?” He asks softly still holding onto your arm. His grip travels down and he laces his fingers with yours.

“To leave this world you must do something major, most can’t do the task that is asked of them. I was able to, after getting help— the blood Oath.” You explain.

“You’re not truly out are you?” He mutters pulling you into a hug once more.

“Not fully, once I finish that blood Oath I will be.”

“Are you sure?”

“I hope so.” He frowns as he studies your face.

“What did you get us into?” He murmurs before lifting your chin to kiss you deeply.

“Us?” You ask.

“Us.”

“Who knows,” you murmur.

“Let’s get back to the others and figure out an actual place,” he takes you by the hand and walks back for the bar. “And we can get you some clothes later.”

You blink a few times before chucking, “I forgot I was wearing a robe.” He chuckles and you find the three chatting with the bartender.

“Is there a private place to talk?” He asks me.

“Go get them and I’ll talk with Hecate.” You hum. As you turn to leave he didn’t immediately let go he looked at you longingly before slowly letting go. He watched you leave.

You approach Hecate, “I need to use your armory.”

“Why?”

“Need a quiet and safe place to talk with my husband and his colleagues, my hotel room isn’t safe.” She froze for a second before smiling.

“Of course.”

“Will you also bring me a new suit?” You ask. She nods. You turn around to see all four men walking towards you.

Hecate walked us to the vault and the men froze gazing at the wall-to-wall guns on display and a nice couch in the middle. You sit down on the couch, your husband joining you. The other leaned Against the wall or checked out the guns.

“Why so many guns?” One asks. The other one, besides Soap, pulled out a cigar and began to smoke.

“Safety protocols.” He turns to you confused.

“So the plan?” The cigar man asks.

“Arseni Anastas leader of the Russian Mafia will be coming here for a meeting with me, with the help of the manager,” you start.

“We can contact Laswell to see if they are looking for him,” Simon speaks up.

“We can call the police swat team—“

“We bought them out,” you state interrupting Soap.

“The FBI will have to send their people, people who have nothing to do with this hotel chain or this world.” You state fiddling with the helm of your robe.

“So this place is highly corrupt?” Cigar man asks.

“Completely.” You state looking at all of them. The room grew silent as each began to think.

“Can’t you just kill him?” Soap asks.

“I can but not on continental grounds. I’m bound by rules.” He nods.

“Let’s contact Laswell, she might have a plan.” They nod. The cigar man pulled out his phone and began to call someone.

“So…” the dad cap man begins, “is the… Baba Yaga real?” He asks.

“Yeah is he?”

“Gaz, Soap,” Simon said sternly.

“What?” Dad Cap asks, “If their other hitmans out there surely the Baba Yaga is real!” Soap and Gaz turn to you expectingly.

“Yeah Baba Yaga is real.” You sigh, you forgot about your notoriety, you forgot to tell your husband. This could break your relationship again… fuck!

“Who? Baba Yaga hasn’t been seen in years did he finally die?” Gaz folds his arms speculating.

“No.”

“Then what happened?”

“I retired.”

“Oh— Your Baba Yaga?” Soap said his eyes widening in shock. You since at his volume.

“Yeah.” He looked you up and down, you didn’t look like much. You could see Simon staring at you in shock as betrayal clouds his eyes again.

“Only the Baba Yaga could do what the high table asks and leave this hellish world alive.” You tell him sternly.

“So… you know… we are hunting you?” Gaz mumbles.

“Figured.” You state standing up as Hecate walks in with a nicely pressed suit tailored to your body “I’m shocked you hunting me when all my targets have been other criminals.” You hum as you begin to put on the pants.

“How did you track down Azhar Maktar when we couldn’t even find him?” Soap asks watching you intently as you change into the black suit.

“The continental and a few connections,” you state.

“I see… will the continental help us.”

“I doubt it, you can ask but they will turn you down.” You tell them. You put on the white dress shirt hiding behind Simon’s body to as you change. You walk from behind him suit on and ready to slay.

“Can you help us locate another man?” Soap asks.

“Who?”

“Vladimir Makarov,” your face scrunches up. Hearing that familiar name.

“That bastard.” You mumble.

“You know him?”

“Met the motherfucker on a mission, got in my way so I beat him near death. Since then every few years he sends men after me trying to kill me.” You wave your hands before walking to the wall and looking for a nice gun to have.

“Do you know where he is?”

“No, my guess is somewhere nowhere Russia.” Soap groans and looks at you with slight disappointment.

“Is Makarov part of the underground network?” Simon finally asks.

“I’m not sure, I haven’t heard of him, but he could be using a proxy.” You explain, too which he nods.

“Alright,” you all turn to the cigar man who sets the phone down. “There is a warrant on Arseni Anastas. We are given the authority to get him.” He tells his crew. They all nod.

“We’ll have to drop by a base—“

“Too far,” you inturupt Gaz. “You’ll have to work like a hitman. Let’s get you suits.” You turn to them with a wicked smile. They all look at you confusingly.

“What will a suit do?” Gaz asks.

“Besides fitting in with the continental it can also protect you from bullets unless you want to risk it.” He nods.

“So where do we get the suits?” Cigar man asks.

“I know a place. We’ll borrow a car from the continental and drive there.” You explain.

“You stay here,” Simon immediately states. He looks down at you with a serious expression, “You're the target.” You sigh but nod.

“Before you go you need to know a few things.” You state pulling out a notepad. You wrote down two addresses, one for a tailor and another for a Sommelier.

“When you go to the Sommelier ask for him and when you meet him ask for a tasting. If you don’t like what he gives ask for something robust,” they stared at you a little confusingly, “Simon in your case ask for dessert.”

“Why?” Gaz slowly asks.

“We talk in code,” you explain.

“When you go to the tailor and ask for an Italian suit, it’s for a social event, tactical lining, and rush to order. Have it delivered to the hotel, got it?” You tell them. They all nod committing your words to memories.

“Let me get some coins,” you murmur.

“Coins?”

“You need to pay for it somehow.” You walk off and walk back to your destroyed hotel room. You retrieved a handful of coins and pocketed it.

“Here,” you hand over the coins to your husband. He looked at them weirdly. “Assassin currency pays what they ask for.” He nods and studies your face.

“We’ll be back soon,” Simon kisses you on the forehead.

As they depart the hotel you let out a sigh and sit down at the bar. You order another round of bourbon and smoked another cigarette. You mind your own business as people come in and out.

A few hours passed before they returned. They looked a little frazzled and very warn out. Simon sat across from you and handed over the unused coins.

“What— that was an experience.” Soap mumbles pulling a chair up next to you.

“Are those guns legal here?”

“Yes,” you answer, “yes it is.”

“So… what now?” Simon asks.

“It’ll be a few days until the suit will be done.” You begin putting out your cigarette on the ashtray. They spent their time casing out the continental waiting for their suits to be made.

Simon spent most of his time around you, asking questions here and there. You could tell with every answer you gave stressed him out even more. You pitted him, this must be so… daunting to learn.

“Love,” you look over to see your husband walking up to you.

“Yes?”

“Let’s go over the plan again,” you sigh but nod. It’s the twentieth time he asks but you know it comes from a place of pure love.

“We’ll be having this meeting in the bar. Gaz and Soap will be sitting at the bar while you and Price watch on from the lobby.” You recite again. He nods along.

“I rather be inside the room.” He spoke up finally telling you his honest desire. You looked at him. His team agreed he shouldn’t be in the room and so did you. Not because you didn’t want him there, just if it gets tense, you didn’t want him to see you at your worst.

“It’s not up to me,” you state, but to some degree it was. He turns to you eyes full of worries and grief, eyes that seem to study you with every second his gaze lingers. You knew he was trying to remember everything about you, your face, your smile, your voice, everything.

“It’s going to be ok,” you reassure him. You touch his thigh and he gazes down at your hand. He slowly nods.

“Promise me you won’t do anything drastic.”

“I promise.”

“Wow… these suits are, are almost perfect,” Soap mused to himself as he moved his arms up and down.

“It still feels a little constrictive.” Gaz mutter.

“Italians like to hug so the suits are a little more comfortable to move around in them.” You explain as you pick up a knife and slip it up your sleeve.

“I feel like James Bond,” Gaz smiled looking at himself in the mirror.

You slightly smile and look over to your husband who silently watches you. You give him a reassuring nod before getting up.

“Are you ready men,” you look over to see their Captain, Price speak up. They nod and head out, leaving you and Simon one last moment of peace.

He pulls you close to him and softly kisses you one last time. It was far longer than any kiss he had ever given. It was a goodbye as it was a final “I love you.”

“Be safe.”

“Of course,” he left the room.

If it was anyone else besides your husband you would have laughed. Be safe… You’re the Baba Yaga, you have no need to worry. You sigh and look around the room. Your anxiety is kicking in even though you’ve done this a hundred times… was it because you have something to lose now?

Ring ring

Your hotel phone goes off, you stand up put your cigarette out in the ashtray, and lift the phone.

“Yes?” You answer.

“Arseni Anastas is here.” You thank Hecate and exit your room. You made your way down to the bar. As you enter the lobby you find both your husband and the captain sitting At opposite places slowly studying everyone’s movement.

You round the corner to the bar and there surrounded by a few men was Arseni. He turns to you with this wicked cold glare. You sat across from him.

“Arseni,” you greeted coldly.

“Wick,” he sneers back, “come to beg from my forgiveness?”

“Hardly, I am asking you to walk away from this—“

“You killed my son!” He roars before falling back to Russian insults.

“And you’re done killing my surrogate and child,” you coldly stated. He turns back to you annoyed and frustrated.

“I’ll give up when he’ll freeze over.” You stood up lit another cigarette and stared down at him.

“Then let’s take this outside off of continental grounds.” You suggest moving away from the plans.

“I’ll kill you one way or another!”

Creak!

The window to the bar shatters as a bullet hits your bulletproof vest. You sense and take cover. Arseni that fool! His men turn on you guns ready. But then both Gaz and Soap caught on to the madness.

Bullets fly across the continental bar. You see Arseni and a few of his men rush for the exit. You scramble to your feet and chase after him.

“[name!],” your husband shouted but you were out the doors. You grab the onto your suit and use it to hide your head.

As the last bodyguard left continental grounds you unsheathed your knife and stabbed him in the neck. You restless the gun from him and shot him dead.

Ba ba ba!

It hit your suit. You winced in pain. Though they stopped the bullet they did not stop it from hurting like hell. You shot two more dead. A few other hitmen came rushing out, they were waiting for you.

You lungs behind a car and check how many rounds you have left. You sigh and begin to quickly take out the hire hit. You changed up to a semiautomatic gun and mode down two more.

Arseni jumped into a car and knocked out an assassin on a motorcycle. You hopped on and raced after them, leaving the continental behind.

You chased him down to a run-down building. You groan realizing this will be a shoot-out. You enter the building slowly ready to kill your target.

They came flooding out like ants to a food pile. It was almost like an all-you-can-eat buffet. They made it so easy. You swing around ducking and dodging as you take out one person after another. Every once in a while exchanging your gun out for a newer one.

By the time you reach the final door, you are completely out of it. You were very rusty, in your skills but it seems like your body hasn’t forgotten. You know tomorrow you be sore.

“In here!” You froze and duck down behind the railing and look to see who just arrived. To your shock, it was your husband and his friends.

“[name]?” Simon calls out.

“Here,” you shout back before standing up.

“You were supposed to wait!” He worriedly stated anger laced with in his tone.

“Did you do this?” Gaz asks seeing the dead boy littering the ground.

“One last room,” you state.

“Let us handle it.” You looked at your husband before sighing and nodding.

You stared at the door, your hands itching to enter. The door slowly opens in in their costing was Arseni. He looked at you with vile and hate.

“You're a filthy pig,” he snarls. Soap pushed him forward and walked him away.

“Finally this is over.”

“I doubt it’s that simple.”

--------

8.4K Words

@makandcheeses, @100percentlazybonez, @selinbaskaya

[heliads]

i've got my money on things going badly

Lance Stroll should be delighted to watch his sister get married, but the only heart he's thinking about is his own. The one Fernando Alonso broke.

masterlist

To Lance, weddings are a kind of performance art. He’s gotten somewhat good at them ever since he was younger, when the Strolls were invited to everything. His father would get caught up in knots of expensive men wearing expensive suits, lost in business talks for hours, but Lance could slip away the second someone blinked, go find his sister disguised in a coat closet somewhere and talk about Pokémon or cable TV or something little kids like best. 

Now his sister is the one getting married, and, enfolded into someone else’s party of groomsmen, Lance has absolutely no chance of hiding, excessively large coat closets of the elite be damned. He likes Scotty, really he does, even went to the trouble of presenting him to Chloe as a potential husband in the first place, but ceremonies are always long and Lance, as per usual, is tired of it.

He should be good. He should like this. Weddings are wonderful ceremonies. You can appreciate them for the expensive decorations and myriad artistic decisions that go into them, if not the fact that they’re basically just one extended celebration dedicated to the love of your close friends and family. 

Lance is here for his sister and her future happiness with her recently declared husband. This should be an excellent day, and it has been, along with the rest of the wedding festivities that have been going on for ages, but now that the sun has set and he’s still here, starch-stiff in his dress suit, wishing he could go but knowing he can’t.

It’s not even the wedding’s fault, really, it’s just that Lance can’t stand spending so long thinking about the bliss of someone else’s love when he’s just lost one of his own. His sister is twirling in a white dress, a woman who hasn’t stopped smiling in hours, and Lance is standing in the shadows of this rosy glory with just one name on his mind.

Fernando Alonso.

It’s foolish, what this has done to him. Lance waved goodbye to Seb last year and told himself that he could look forward to another good relationship with another world championship teammate. Fernando would be challenging but rewarding as another Aston Martin driver, or so the motorsport gossip pages had told him.

What no one counted on was just how Fernando would make Lance feel. Not even Lance can do a good job of that, not really. There are no words in English or Spanish or even half-and-half lighthearted Spanglish that can sum up how Lance’s ribs ache like they’ve been bruised from sentences alone. 

He had not meant to love Fernando; hell, he wasn’t even sure he did until the abrupt ending, but now Lance is choking on the words he never got to say and wondering how he’s meant to pick up the pieces of a heart that was only ever Fernando’s to break. Lance was supposed to stay professional, and he didn’t, and now he’s the one suffering for it. So it goes.

It didn’t take much, actually. Four months to fall. One month to break. Now he’s standing alone in the corner of his sister’s wedding, hoping for an escape that doesn’t seem willing to come his way. He’d been stupid, thought he could take too much, but is that really his fault for trying? All his life, he’s been told that he could be anything, do anything, have anything, and now he’s found that limit and it hurts like hell.

It’s not like anyone told him that the meter on Stroll luck and expectation would fall short when it came to one Spanish two time world championship winner. Well, that’s not true. Esteban had tried. Lance had not listened. He cannot even say for sure that he should have, because Lance had been very happy up until the point when he wasn’t.

It almost makes sense that the whole affair was conducted over such a short period of time. Lance is impatient, he likes doing things fast. It’s why he was able to become a Formula One driver. It’s why he set his sights on the man most likely to break his heart and cut the brakes before either of them could back out of it.

And it was just. Fuck. Hands on shoulders on the backs of necks on waists. How Fernando kept whispering in his ear, so close he could feel the other man’s breath hot on his neck, even though/just because it made Lance h— they were on camera the whole time. It didn’t matter. They wanted what they wanted and they got it, too. 

Or, Lance had thought they had got what they wanted, and then he had dared to ask for a label for the unspoken thing he was sure both of them felt, and everything was lost for good. It was the end of the Miami race weekend, and Fernando was drunk on the glory of another podium, happy enough that Lance felt certain that he could have the conversation he wanted without it going sour.

They had been hanging around one of their driver’s rooms– which one, Lance can never tell, they kept swapping door to door until even the labeled placards felt like a joke of hospitality’s courtesy. Sprawled out on a couch, so close that Lance couldn’t stop staring at how their legs kept touching whenever he breathed too hard, he’d felt absolutely crazy with the knowledge that this was his.

Too much of a good thing can make you foolish, convince you that things will be that good forever. Lance had laughed to himself, then turned to Fernando with a grin. “We’ll still be like this next season, right?”

Fernando had given him this look as if he were being intentionally difficult. “Yes, Lance. My contract will not expire for another season. I will be on the grid.”

Lance had shaken his head. “No, duh, I mean like, hanging out like we are now. You know, like us.” 

Lance doubts he could have packed more meaning into that one syllable if he tried. He’s heard Fernando refer to the unbreakable us before too many times to count, like when they’re coming back from a bar late and Fernando, eyes dark and heavy, promised him they’d have fun like that again, just us. Or, scoffing at the other driver lineups– they’re not us, you know. They don’t get along as well. One hand on Lance’s shoulder, fingers digging into muscle, the others could never get along as well.

Fernando had cocked his head to the side, curious. “What do you mean? We’re teammates.”

Lance had rolled his eyes. “Yeah, obviously, but like, there’s more. You know that.”

The space between them went silent. He should have taken that as his first warning sign if nothing else. Fernando had cleared his throat carefully and said, “What else would there be?”

Lance can still imagine the cold feeling that had descended upon him, spreading from the back of his throat like ink. What else would there be? It was impossible that he could have misread every single signal, every touch, every unspoken word. Unless, of course, the hidden meaning he dedicated so much time to channeling had never been there at all.

Lance had waved his hand vaguely. “But we were– you know, we did. Things.”

Fernando’s expression was impossible to read. “Did we?”

It was condescending and pitying and Lance hated it, all of it. He felt like a boy again, small enough to watch his voice disappear into the stillness of an uncaring room. He’d shot up from the couch, pushing out the door and away before anything else could happen. If anything had happened at all, or if it would, that is. Apparently, Lance has made a habit of picturing things that didn’t fucking exist.

Now he’s left spiraling like he survived a bad breakup, but you can’t have a breakup if there was never so much as a spark in the first place. It’s impossible that Fernando could have missed it all. Impossible, that Lance could have simply invented it. He knows what he felt, he knows what Fernando did, but none of it was worthy of a single word of acknowledgement from the other half of two seemingly perfect parts.

He wants to scream and throw up and put his phone down for longer than ten minutes at a time. There are many, many things that Lance had wanted to tell Fernando, and it’s only now starting to occur to him that he’ll never get the chance. I wanted to transform. For you. I wanted to be good. You made me want to be better. 

It’s foolish for him to be thinking of things like this. Lance is a young man. He’s got time for his heart to grow up and even out. Maybe in a decade or less, he’ll meet some perfectly nice young woman, someone his father would approve of, someone with country club connections that won’t rival his own (who can) but could at least keep up with the game. They’d have a manicured front lawn and two docile children, including a son to keep up the Stroll legacy. It would be normal, it would not break his heart like this. It would be very dependable.

Lance doesn’t want dependable, though, he knows it as he thinks it. He wants wild, unpredictable, insane things like falling in love with your teammate and letting him convince you that he’d settle down for you. Lance wants to be the reason someone so used to choosing themselves chooses you instead. He wants Fernando, and he wants no one else.

This is a difficult thing to think about at a wedding. Across the crowded event hall, he can see his sister, happy and secure in the knowledge that her husband is hers, legally and emotionally. There are scores of couples smiling up at each other, content that their love is theirs and no one else’s. 

Lance stands alone, tapping his foot to the beat so he doesn’t look like a complete loser. Every time someone looks over at him, he wants to shout that he’s fine, actually, this is fine, he doesn’t need someone the way that everyone else seems to, but they glance away again before he can properly vocalize this.

The DJ spins another song, the beat drops and the dance floor shakes appropriately from a hundred stomping feet, and just when Lance is certain that he wants to give up and really tries in earnest to look for somewhere to go, the crowd parts and Lance sees him.

Fernando. Here. Impossible. Yet that’s still a glint of hickory eyes he’d know anywhere, even distorted by swimming shades of party lights. Lance feels physically immobile as the man who cannot possibly be his teammate skirts couples and friend groups, and then they’re standing in front of each other and even though this cannot be, it is, and this is the first time Lance has seen him since the argument.

Lance stares at Fernando, jaw dropped comically. He has the harebrained thought that he’s glad the only camera nearby is the one in the hands of Chloe’s Vogue-ordered photographer; if this was the paddock, he’d probably end up as yet another stupid reaction image, giffed into oblivion until not even Lance can recognize his face when he sees it again.

If this was the paddock, seeing Fernando wouldn’t be such a surprise. If this was the paddock, Lance would not feel the absurd urge to run, because Fernando would already be gone, separated by an impenetrable wall of PR officers and personal trainers and anyone else he could shove in between the two of them.

Instead, they’re in one of the rare quiet patches in the wedding reception hall, and Lance is watching Fernando watch him, and slowly, deliberately, Lance forces his mouth to shut enough to ask, “How did you get in here?”

Fernando chuckles, teeth flashing in the uneven lighting of the dark hall. Lance has taken to ranking his teammate’s grins on a sliding scale from closed lips to a shark’s predatory display. This one is somewhere in the middle, hovering between quiet and pleased. Maybe even real. 

“I bribed Daniel to get me past the door,” he says.

Lance casts an outraged look across the dancefloor until he catches the Australian attempting to foxtrot with Scotty. They should both be at least passable at it, but both men keep trying to lead, then follow, then lead again, endless cycles of not-quite-right. 

Daniel somehow feels Lance looking– twitchy, isn’t he, has been all day– catches sight of Fernando standing in front of him, and grins apologetically. Bastard. If Lance gets him for grid Secret Santa, if Daniel manages to make it back onto the grid before December, he’ll have to actually try this time. Lance might owe him big for this.

The DJ starts a new number, cueing flashing lights that cascade from the blinding storm on the dance floor to faint rays out here where the two of them linger in the shadows, occasional flashlight beams sent out to catch them.

Lance swallows hard, watches the LEDs dye Fernando’s hair with undertones of Renault yellow, Ferrari red, Aston Martin green. If he were in the mood to be honest, Lance would admit that he’s been looking at Fernando for a while, actually. Not just since Fernando joined his team, before that, too. Long before they were teammates, when Lance first started racing in Formula One and he was eighteen and Fernando was thirty-five, a fact that makes him shiver down to his toes every time he thinks of it, which is– more often than it should be, for certain.

Now that the issue has been solved of how Fernando managed to get past the security guards Chloe swore were unnecessary and Lawrence swore he wouldn’t hire, plus the overeager wedding planners and racing fans stuck outside the gates with iPhone cameras, Lance pivots to a new question, one far more important.

“Why are you here?” Lance asks cautiously. 

He knows what he wants to hear, of course, but he can’t let himself get his hopes up just for them to be dashed yet again. This is not his wedding, of course. Fernando could be here to corner some Aston Martin engineers or strategists if they won’t return his midnight calls. He could even be here for Danny, which would explain why the Australian went to the trouble of letting him in, and he’s just stopping by Lance because he got caught while trying to get drinks. 

That thought makes Lance’s stomach twist in angry knots, and he’s only calmed from saying or doing something rash by Fernando’s following words, quiet in the dark but full of a lasting power.

“For you, Lance,” he says, “I came for you.”

God. Lance has spent the whole day witnessing lavish displays of affection, but for some reason it is seven simple words that makes him come undone. He stands there, stock still, and Fernando asks hesitantly, “Is that okay?”

It reminds Lance of how it had been before everything went south, when they were both dancing around a truth both ugly and glorious, that teammates do not stare like they did, that coworkers should not use getting drunk at an Aston Martin post-race celebration party as an excuse to keep their hands on each other, that Fernando didn’t keep interrupting Lance’s interviews to place his hands on Lance’s shoulders and whisper in his ear that he was Fernando’s hero just to get Lance to react like he always did. Not something he was supposed to do on camera, but neither of them could stop.

It is like the very beginning. Fernando, infiltrating Lance’s garage to lean down over the edge of the halo of Lance’s test drive and grip his gloved hands. How’s the car? Fernando, stopping by Lance’s driver’s room to hug him around the shoulders, cold and damp from the champagne that was still soaked through his race suit. I saw you out there. It was good, no? We are good? Fernando, with his hand on Lance’s leg when they’re supposed to be paying attention in a dry and stilted meeting with no one’s eyes on them for once. Can I? Is it alright? 

Lance never said no. Even when his breath caught in his throat. Even when he knew he was just sinking further into a pit he would never be able to escape. The falling was the best part, anyway.

“Fine,” he says at last, “Dance with me, then. If you want to talk, we dance. I’m sick of being a wallflower anyway.”

He raises an eyebrow impetuously, daring Fernando to make the next move. If Fernando’s actually serious about being here for Lance, he won’t mind this. He won’t mind the chance that someone could see them together and start to speculate. If Lance is anything other than a backroom missed connection, they should be able to dance without worrying.

Fernando nods once, accepting his challenge. He places one hand on Lance’s waist, the other on his waiting hand. His grip is strong, but not agonizing. Just a reminder that Lance will not be able to leave easily, not unless Fernando is satisfied that the situation has been handled as he planned.

Here, locked in the vise of another man’s arms, Lance thinks about how deeply he’s let himself get enthralled in Fernando’s way of doing things. He likes pretending that he’s the one in control, that Fernando is here to win him over, but the second Fernando’s hands are on him, Lance cedes that last bit of power over to him. Fernando does it easily, like a habit. It probably is.

Esteban warned him about this, after all, how easy it is to get sucked in. Lance, however, does not mind Fernando’s trap in the slightest. The rabbit must learn to love the snare. The bird likes its cage when the gilded bars keep it safe. 

“I was thinking,” Fernando begins.

“Always a good start,” Lance quips.

The hand on Lance’s waist tightens momentarily, a warning. Lance kind of wants to mouth off some more to see what the resulting action would be.

“I was thinking,” Fernando repeats, “that I may have gotten something wrong. I did not want to rush you, Lance. We have a lot of time. Being hasty can cost you.”

Unwillingly, Lance’s mind flashes to driver’s meetings, planning sessions with his engineer. Being a driver is knowing the difference between when to push and when to plan. Fernando  may have spent a lot of time guarding his pace, but Lance gets the feeling he’s finally ready to go for the trophy, the fastest lap. To sprint and never look back.

“I don’t want you as just a teammate,” Fernando continues. “I had not realized you thought we were past that. It would have sped things along, I think, if I had.”

“I thought we had plenty of time,” Lance comments.

“We do,” Fernando says smoothly. “But that does not mean I want to push this off any more if I don’t have to.”

“This?” Lance asks, feeling like he’s parodying that fateful conversation from so long ago, “And what’s this?”

Fernando meets his gaze coolly, calmly, and then he smiles and changes everything. Night brown eyes go caramel. “We have something better than anyone else, Lance. I do not want to lose it.”

There’s a sharp, triumphant streak in those words. Fernando Alonso has always been on a different level from everyone else. Hearing that he considers Lance on that distinct pedestal as well– it makes Lance lean into his touch a little more, and the last of his guard drops away.

“Why’d you tell me differently earlier, then?” He can’t help but ask. “You could have said you wanted me then.”

Fernando sighs, looks away. “I didn’t know I wanted it then. I didn’t count on how it would feel to lose you. I know now. I don’t want to feel it again.”

Across the room, they’re starting to cheer and shout from the center of the dance floor. It takes Lance a few moments to realize that the applause isn’t for the two of them but for the newlyweds, Chloe and Scotty, who are leading the group in an exuberant rendition of I Wanna Dance with Somebody. Lance thinks that it wouldn’t be entirely unfounded for the cheering to be for him, though. He feels like celebrating now.

And, when he looks back, Fernando’s lips are on his. Lance stumbles a little, and Fernando’s hand slides up his spine to catch him before he loses balance. It’s easy. It’s victorious. Lance never wants to let him go.

Fernando’s breath is hot against his throat, sending Lance into a feverish spiral. “I’ll see you in Monaco,” he whispers, and then he’s pulling away.

Lance watches him leave, but for once, it’s not a sad feeling. Instead, the emotion currently crashing through Lance’s bones is more one of anticipation. This is not the end, just the beginning. Fernando turns once, smiling at him before disappearing in a crush of people. Lance’s chest feels cold where Fernando’s hands had once been, but his heart’s racing enough to make up for the lost heat.

A voice by his shoulder; his sister, who has somehow fought her way through the crowd of well-wishers to find him. “Was that your teammate?” She asks, frowning.

Lance gazes softly at the place that had once been his. “Yeah, it was.”

Chloe tilts her head to the side with a frown, considering this. “Is something going on there?”

“Yes,” Lance answers her. Chloe looks like she wants far more of a response than just that, but Lance just laughs and helps her back to the dance floor. He will have plenty more days to explain it to her. After all, Fernando was right. They do have plenty of time.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy, @juphey

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[sicklyseraphnsuch]

If You Like Piña Coladas

God-tiered Dave Strider keeps falling in love with his husband, mortal Karkat Vantas, over and over and over again

HAHAHAHAHA i wish i had the time to write this

I love the idea of Dave, after Karkat's first tragic passing, gets back into the game by going online to an anonymous forum. He meets someone that he instantly clicks with. They meet and to Dave's surprise - it's a reincarnated version of Karkat. Cue angst. Reconciliation. The good stuff. Dave marries Karkat again. Karkat dies again. Maybe more tragically this time - maybe terribly young.

Dave doesn't know until he gets the call.

Cue more angst. More hurt. Dave thinks that he threw away the only second chance he had. Fast forward a couple hundred of years. Dave meets a guy about to jump off a bridge. He saves the guy just in time. Surprise. It's Karkat.

Again, another reincarnation shtick. This Karkat has lived a painfully lonely life. For whatever reason, he just has shit luck. He's prone to really lashing out from whatever trauma that Dave has a fun time learning about. They get their shit together - together. They fall in love again.

Karkat lives until he's old and forgetful, a senile troll who keeps forgetting Dave's face but somehow knows that he's awfully in love with him. Dave is terrified that again, this might be his last chance. Karkat dies after confessing his love Dave for the third time that week.

Dave starts getting a little obsessed, wondering if there's a way to know - to track down Karkat when he's reborn. What if he could find Karkat sooner? Save Karkat from whatever misery? But he soon learns a new heartbreak. He does find Karkat, in high school and happily, fortouistously in love. He has a high school sweetheart. He's planning to propose. Dave walks away.

Decades pass. Dave finds Karkat at a playground. He's got a kid with him. It's his "descendant/grandchild" or whatever weird almagation of troll/human family norms. Dave appears markedly young for Karkat who looks in his mid fifties - or the equivalent for a troll. Dave misses him so much. They strike up a chat, waiting for the kids to finish playing. Karkat is a widower now - his spouse died about five years ago. Karkat misses them everyday. And Dave relates.

They share stories about their dead partners, the lives they lived together. Dave asks Karkat out for coffee. And Karkat feels stunned and shy that a hot, young guy would be into an old, fat man like him. Dave insists, and secretly starts to age himself up slowly year by year. Until he looks like Karkat's age, maybe a little older (because he's a bit petty).

After getting over the godhood reveal (and the reincarnation reveal), they get married again when Karkat's grand descendant is old enough to bear witness. They don't stay married for very long. And all too soon, Karkat passes on again.

Because this was a story about immortality, but really - sneakily, it's always a story about mortality - about every other happily wedded after. If someone is lucky, they die with their spouse. But in most stories, there's always someone who leaves first and what comes after. Dave joins the grieving widower support group that Karkat introduced him to. He listens. He learns.

Maybe he'll see Karkat again, some two-three hundred years down the line. Or maybe that was the last. Dave thinks that he's ready to not know. He understands Aradia a little better now.

Denoument - years and years down the line. There's a wall of photos, including the support group that Dave first joined. There's a new group now, full of entirely new faces. They wrap up their session and Dave closes up, whistling a slow tune.

Further down the street, a young troll picks up Dave's whistling. It seems familiar. He turns around and just before we get a description of his face - the story ends.