#New Cheap Wedding Dresses

[theemporium]

[3k] too many shots and a bet leads to a very interesting night out. it's just a shame neither of them can remember it and the whole world is discovering the details alongside with them.

series masterlist

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RING! RING!

The first thing you were painfully aware of was the annoying shrill of your phone echoing from some distant corner of the room. 

RING! RING!

The second thing was the fact you had forgotten to close the blinds last night, meaning the blinding rays of the Nevada sun were doing their best job in dragging you out of your comforting slumber like irritating parasites. 

RING! RING!

And the third thing was that whoever was trying to call you was seemingly very insistent to get in contact with you, if the three calls in a row (that you were so far aware of) were anything to go by.

RING! RING!

“Oh my god,” you groaned as you pulled the edges of the pillow over your ears, hoping it would muffle the ringing shrills. But when the phone continued to ring and the noise only seemed to get louder, you were forced to throw your hand out and blindly try to grasp the cursed device in hopes of making the noise stop. 

Your fingers wrapped around the buzzing phone, your eyes still firmly kept shut as you kept tapping the screen until the ringing stopped before you brought it to your ear. “You better have a good fucking reason for calling me.”

“I hope you are doing something you enjoy.”

You frowned, your brain taking a few moments to process the voice coming through. “Arthur?” 

“Like, I hope you are fulfilling your lifelong wish right now.” 

“What the fuck are you on about?” You grumbled, exhaustion hitting your body just as badly as the rays of sunlight shining through the open blinds were. “It’s too early for your riddles.”

“I am just saying that I think you should be doing something you love before Charles kills you.” 

You let out a non-committing hum. “And why would he kill me?” 

“Many reasons but I think getting married in Vegas last night is easily the top of the list right now.”

Your eyes shot open when you heard the words leave Arthur’s mouth. It felt like ice had doused your entire body as you quickly sat up in the hotel bed, now painfully aware of the pounding headache that only tequila could give you. 

“WHAT?”

“Congrats, by the way. I do pity the poor guy you locked up though.” 

Now painfully aware of the situation, your eyes grabbing onto any detail that would hopefully prove your brother wrong. Unfortunately, all you seemed to find was evidence that he was telling the truth if the white dress, the horribly large costume jewelry ring on your finger and the abandoned veil with ‘NEW BRIDE’ on the floor were anything to go by. 

“Oh my fucking god,” you breathed out, feeling though as you were going to empty your stomach’s contents any moment now. “How do you know? Why didn’t you stop me?!” 

“I wasn’t with you! I just opened Twitter and found pictures of my sister outside a wedding chapel and all over some random guy!”

“I married a stranger,” you hissed out, your lips parting in shock. Tequila made you do many questionable things, but even this was bad for you. 

“He’s your husband, it’s a bit offensive to call him a stranger.”

“Arthur, I swear to god—” You cut yourself off as your eyes fell on the large lump in the bed next to you. It took you an embarrassingly long time to realise it was another human. It took you even longer to tear your eyes away from the cheap suit he was wearing before you looked up at his face. “Oh my fucking god.”

“What?”

“Charles is going to kill me,” you breathed out, your heart pounding like it was lodged in your throat. 

“Yes, we established that when I called you—”

“Charles is going to kill me when he finds out I married Max,” you continued, lost in your own daze that you barely acknowledge your spluttering brother on the other side of the phone.

“YOU MARRIED MAX VERSTAPPEN?!” 

Unfortunately for Arthur’s sake, you quickly hung up the phone. You could barely process the fact the Dutch driver was currently passed out on the bed next to you, let alone doing so with your brother screeching in your ear the whole time. The phone was abandoned on the bed as you stared at the Dutchman, your brain working on overdrive as you tried to work out what to do next. 

So, you did what any reasonable person would do and shoved him off the bed. 

“OW!” 

You froze for a moment before you crawled over to the other side of the bed, peaking over the edge and down at Max who was currently groaning on the floor from his impromptu wake up call. 

“What the fuck was that about?” He grumbled, blinking a few times before he realised who was hovering over him. “What the fuck are you doing in my hotel room?” 

“This is actually my hotel room,” you replied. 

“Oh,” he muttered. “Then, what the fuck am I doing in your hotel room?”

“Well, it’s what a married couple do,” you commented. 

Max’s brows furrowed together. “What?”

You lifted your left hand, the ring now on display and you could practically see the cogs turning in his head before the realisation hit him. “Do you think this counts as our honeymoon?” 

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” 

...

...

“How did this happen?” 

“Tequila,” you muttered with your nose scrunched in disgust as you watched the Dutchman begin to pace the hotel room. If you cared enough, you would be concerned about him wearing down the carpet. Though as of the current moment, your priorities were currently elsewhere. 

Max turned to look down at the certificate he had found stranded beside your veil on the floor, your names and signatures clearly printed on the piece of paper—which took out the small piece of hope that this was just some elaborate prank set up by Arthur.

“How did we get that drunk though?” Max questioned, his brows furrowed together. If he wasn’t so confused, he would be more embarrassed at the fact he clearly couldn’t handle his alcohol as well as he once could. 

“Well, it’s your fault,” you commented casually, which had the boy whirling around to face you. 

“How is this my fault?” Max scoffed.

“You made the bet!” 

Max’s frown deepened. “What bet?”

“At the hotel bar,” you stated like it was a basic fact he should have remembered. “When I bumped into you—”

“We bumped into each other,” Max chided. 

“—you were the one to suggest shots,” you pointed out.

Max gave you a look. “How is that a bet?” 

“Because you said I couldn’t outdrink you. I said you would be a sore loser. And then you bought us ten shots each.” 

He blinked. “Huh.” 

“I’m pretty sure it was also your idea to go to another bar afterwards when we got kicked out the hotel bar,” you said in a sing-song voice.

Max scoffed. “Absolutely not. You were the one that said only losers go to bed after one bar.” 

You shrugged. “I stand by it.”

Max let out a laugh, a little breathless like he was trying to hide it. He shook his head, glancing down at the certificate one more time before shrugging. “It’s not really that bad, to be honest. A bit embarrassing, but what people don’t know won’t hurt them.”

Your expression turned sheepish. “About that…”

“Who knows?” He asked in a blunt voice. 

“Well, Arthur knows,” you started. 

“That’s not that bad,” Max scoffed, his shoulders relaxing. “Wait. Charles doesn’t know, does he?”

“Not yet,” you said before quickly continuing. “But he probably will because the paparazzi caught us last night and now the pictures are all over the internet.” 

Max blinked. “AND YOU DIDN’T THINK TO START WITH THAT?” 

“You’re grumpy when you wake up!” You defended, watching as the boy rolled his eyes at you.

“The whole world thinks we are married!” Max countered before sputtering out a laugh. “Well, we are married. Or we aren’t. I’m still not totally sure but I don’t need your brother chopping off my balls over it!”

“He wouldn’t!”

Max shot you a look.

“Okay, he would,” you grimaced before giving him a shaky smile. “But he doesn’t know yet so we should be in the clear—”

BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ!

...

...

“Okay, I have good news and bad news.” 

Max looked at you expectantly. “And?” 

“Bad news: Charles now knows,” you said with a shaky smile. “Good news: he doesn’t know it’s you!” 

Max pressed his fingers into his temples, trying to rub soothing circles. “Fucking hell.” 

“But also bad news: he is coming here right now as we speak so we should probably—” You started, fully set on grabbing what you needed and hiding out somewhere else in the hotel until Charles calmed down. However, your plans were put on hold when you heard a groan from the bathroom. 

“CAN YOU BOTH PLEASE SHUT UP?”

Your gaze caught Max’s as you stared at each other, both with expressions mixed between confusion and surprise. A few seconds passed before you were both clambering off the bed, heading towards the bathroom where you threw the door open and scrambled to turn on the light before you both froze in the doorway at the sight in front of you.

“Now that was unnecessary.” 

You gaped at the sight of Yuki curled up in the bathtub, dressed in a similar looking suit to the one Max was wearing along with what you were certain was the shower curtain placed over him like a blanket. He had a pillow behind his head and sunglasses over his eyes, and for all intents and purposes, he looked fairly comfortable. 

“Oh my god,” you breathed out. “I married two drivers last night?!”

“I hope you at least married me before Yuki,” Max grumbled, only to let out a small wince when you elbowed him. “God, you’re a difficult wife.” 

“Kinda going through something,” you snapped back before your eyes moved back to the Japanese driver. “I can’t believe I married you and Yuki.”

The driver in the tub let out a scoff mixed with a laugh. “Please, you didn’t marry me. You’re not my type.”

You blinked, unsure whether or not you should have been offended by his comment. 

“The ring on your finger says otherwise, mate,” Max commented, the ring a matching one with the one that was currently on your left hand.

“I married someone but not you,” Yuki said as he waved you off, nuzzling his face back into the pillow. “And our wedding was much classier than yours.”

“I—” You frowned. “You remember?” 

“Yeah, you said you wanted witnesses,” Yuki grumbled, bringing the shower curtain up until it was tucked under his chin. “You also dragged Lando out so he would take your photos.” 

Max gaped. “Lando was there? Lando knows?!” 

“Yes, now can you please go bother him?” Yuki muttered under his breath. “And turn the lights off as you leave. Only wake me up when you order food.” 

...

...

“Don’t make me an accomplice in your crimes.” 

“Shut up and let us in.” 

You weren’t surprised to find that Lando and Logan were already in the room, both with looks of amusement on their faces as they watched you and Max wander in—still dressed in your wedding clothes from the night before. 

You wanted to slap the smug looks off their face. 

“Is it really a good idea to hide here?” Max asked as he took a seat on the edge of the bed, feeling as though the headache pounding through his head had nothing to do with the alcohol he consumed last night and more to do with the mess you both had created.

“It buys us time,” you insisted. 

“On the chance that Arthur doesn’t rat you out,” Logan added. 

“You told Arthur where I was?” Your eyes widened before you turned to look at Oscar. “Do you want me dead?” 

“You know, something about the way you’re wording that makes me feel like it’s a trick question,” Oscar commented with a suspicious look on his face.

“Oh my god, I’m going to die today,” you muttered under your breath, shaking your head. 

“It’s kinda romantic that you guys will die together,” Lando chimed in as he grinned between you and Max. 

“If I survive today, I’m going to run you over,” Max threatened with a strained smile on his lips.

Lando snorted, shrugging. “Yeah but the chances of that happening are low so…”

“Your brother doesn’t even know my room number,” Oscar pointed out. “It will take him ages to convince the desk to give it to him or even hunt—” 

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“This is what English teachers meant when they taught us poetic irony,” Lando laughed, all giddy and happy.

“Like you paid attention,” you grumbled, eyes narrowing on the boy before you turned back to the door. “Don’t answer it.” 

Oscar’s eyes widened. “I can’t not answer it.” 

“Yes, you can,” you said bluntly. “Just don't open the door.”

“He knows we are in here,” he hissed. 

“We don’t know that for sure.” 

“OPEN UP! I CAN HEAR YOU! SOMEONE OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW OR I SWEAR TO GOD—” 

“Even more reason not to open the door,” you said, pressing your lips together to hide the wince that you wanted to let out as Charles thumped on the door again. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Max grumbled as he quickly stood up, ignoring your pleas to just pretend your brother didn’t exist. He reached the door, yanked it open and braced himself for the wrath of an angry Charles Leclerc.

Much to his surprise, the Monegasque barged straight past him and headed straight for Oscar instead. 

“You!” Charles gritted out through clenched teeth as he reached to grab Oscar’s collar, firsting the material in his hands. “What do you have to say to yourself?” 

Oscar’s eyes widened as Charles backed him into a wall. “What?!” 

“Marrying my sister in Vegas? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Charles continued. 

It didn’t take long for Lando to descend into a fit of giggles, practically on the floor if it weren’t for the fact Logan was keeping him on the bed. Somewhere still standing by the door, Arthur stood with an amused look on his face that only grew wider when he saw your confused and shocked expression too. 

“I didn’t marry your sister!” Oscar said to him, trying to push the boy away but he was latched on tightly. “I was literally in bed by nine!”

“Loser,” Logan grumbled under his breath.

Charles faltered, his eyebrows furrowing together. “What?”

“I wasn’t the guy to marry your sister,” Oscar repeated, finally managing to pull Charles’ hands off him. “I don’t think there is enough alcohol in the world for me to do that.”

“First Yuki and now him,” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“If you didn’t marry her, then who did?” Charles questioned. 

It was almost comical how quickly everyone turned to look at Max, who was still standing by the door and looked like he was contemplating just dashing out the room.

“You,” Charles muttered out, his eyes narrowing on the Dutchman. 

“In my defence,” Max started as he gave the boy a smile, though it didn’t seem as confident as he was hoping it would be. “I didn’t know I married her either.”

“I am right here,” you huffed. “Jesus Christ.” 

“I am going to—” 

“Nothing. You’re going to do nothing,” you jumped in, taking a step so you were blocking his line of vision of Max. “It’s just a…phoney, fake marriage. It’s not that big of a deal, Charles. People will forget by next weekend anyways.”

“Uh,” Logan cleared his throat. “It’s actually very legal all over the US and in some other places—”

“Shut up, Logan.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Charles narrowed his eyes on you. “You’re not allowed to marry him.”

“I already did,” you pointed out with a sheepish expression. 

“I don’t care.” 

“Charles,” you stepped towards him, though the boy still looked like he was contemplating parading into the paddock with Max’s head on a stick. “Charlie, please. Don’t do something stupid because you’re annoyed.” 

“I want to cut his dick off,” Charles told you.

“I know.”

“And you can no longer have alcohol unsupervised.”

“That’s a tad dramatic.” 

“And no consummating the marriage.”

“That would be difficult to do if you cut off his dick anyways.”

“Can we stop talking about my dick?” Max chimed in with his hands locked in front of him, almost protectively.

Charles sighed. “But I promise I won’t kill either of you. Today.” 

You grinned as you reached towards your brother, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pulled him into a hug. “Thank you.”

“You should tell Maman before she finds out through the internet,” he murmured, pausing for a moment before continuing. “Maybe shower first. You stink of tequila.”

“That would be kinda hard to do considering Yuki is currently asleep in my bathtub,” you commented. 

Charles opened his mouth to reply but just shook his head. “I’m not even gonna ask.”

“Good, because I don’t have answers,” you murmured with your lips turned down. “And he’s really snappy when you try to get them from him.” 

Charles snorted. 

“So, that’s it?” Lando suddenly spoke up from behind you both. “God, that was not worth getting out of bed for. I expected more drama.”

“I’m still pissed at you,” you told the Brit, who just grinned. 

“I’ll send you the photos later, don’t you worry,” he said like he didn’t just hear the words that left your mouth. “Maybe one of them will inspire angry Charles again.”

“Please don’t,” Max grumbled. 

“It won’t be necessary because we are finding a divorce lawyer,” Charles stated simply, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head before he began making his way to the door, nodding for Arthur to follow him. “Both of you get dressed. We are leaving in an hour.”

Both you and Max gaped at the boy, but he didn’t notice. 

“And someone take one for the team and wake up Yuki. I vote Lando.” 

Lando frowned. “Woah, wait a second–”

“ONE HOUR PEOPLE!!”

...

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 133,728 others

yourusername call me mrs verstappen

view all 12,892 comments

oscarpiastri sometimes i wonder if you just enjoy pushing charles over the edge

yourusername yes

user WHAT

user it was real?????

user oh my god IT WAS MAX?

user someone sedate me

user this is some wattpad level stuff wtf the book tropes????

user i need to know how charles reacted when he found out

arthur_leclerc badly

maxverstappen1 i mean it was an accidental name but i guess it suits you

yourusername you like meeeee, admit it :)

maxverstappen1 i think i legally have to agree because you're my wife

yourusername damn don't sound too enthusiastic about it

user i just know charles lost years of his life over this

landonorris uh photo creds?

yourusername no

landonorris rude

charles_leclerc take this down

yourusername no

charles_leclerc you are a leclerc, not a verstappen

yourusername the marriage certificate says otherwise

charles_leclerc please stop reminding me

pascaleleclerc welcome to the family maxverstappen1

charles_leclerc MAMAN?????

maxverstappen1 thank you? i think?

pascaleleclerc dinner will be at 6 when you are back in monaco

maxverstappen1 yes ma'am

charles_leclerc MAMAN WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU ON????

.

[one-time-i-dreamt]

Not a dream

Was just talking to a friend about clothes and she was telling me she loves my style but she can never find anything affordable and cute so I am going to teach her all of my tricks and share knowledge about buying on a budget. I love helping people.

I also gave her some unworn items that I no longer fit in because she loved them. ❤

I hunt for bargains, buy things second hand from people and thrift. I don't remember the last time I bought anything for a full price or brand new (except undies). That's my rec to anyone.

I also use BestSecret and you can find really nice clothes there from previous seasons on big sales. I bought a really expensive coat that had a button missing and a few threads loose there for maybe 15 euros and I fixed it up. Usually the items are in perfect condition though.

Idk why BestSecret even has invitation style joining (I think you get perks as the person who invited someone) because it's a really good site.

Here's my code if anyone wants to join. Pretty sure I get some sort of points for it and I think maybe a discount once I give out all 6 invitations and people join in but this is not sponsored in any way!

https://invite.bestsecret.com/V5V-AYG-VVU?c=hr&utm_campaign=app_invitation&utm_medium=app&utm_source=invitation&utm_content=registration

Last thing I was looking for there was a cheap but cute dress for a wedding this summer, since I gained weight and don't fit into my fancy clothes.

I really liked this one but held off on purchasing because my laptop broke suddenly and fixing it up cost a lot of money so now they're out of my size.

The green one is just sooo pretty. There's an orange version but I don't like it as much.

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

I've had a bit of brainrot today and have to share so I can get it out of my head (maybe) so feel free to ignore lol I've been thinking of 141 having a civilian spouse (separately, just in case there was confusion) that only ever refers to them by their call sign/rank during an emergency situation. Using it just immediately sets off sirens and they see red. - 🐍

Yesss. Got a bit carried away with this one, lol. Only did 141 specifically, lmk if you'd like to see anyone else! Also tried my best to make this GN!😊

141 With Reader Who Uses Their Callsign in Emergency Situation

Warnings: mentions of guns, violence, unwanted advances/touching, stalking, swearing, injury, crying--- I promise it has a good ending😅

Simon Ghost Riley-

"Golly, aren't you a fine looking thing." You heard a voice say behind you, as you were standing at the bar getting you and Simon another drink. Simon had just gone to the bathroom, so you knew you were on your own for this.

You turned around and were met with a man double your size, a sickening smile making its way on his face.

"Oh, thank you." You mustered a small smile before turning back to the bar, praying the man would take the hint and leave you alone.

"No, I mean it. I could take that little ass of yours home right now." The man came closer, and you could just start to feel his breath on your neck, making you cringe.

"I have a boyfriend, I'm sorry." You tried softly. You were desperate at this point, your eyes searching for Simon.

"I don't see him anywhere." The man smiled, his teeth were yellow, and his breath reeked of cheap booze.

"He just went to the restroom." You mumbled.

You felt a hand grope your ass slightly, squeezing at the flesh there. "Mmhmm, if I were your boyfriend, I'd never leave you unattended like this."

You cried out, moving to swat the guys hand away, to no avail. Nobody around you seemed to notice your predicament, and you were starting to grow scared.

The man pushed you up against the counter, his hand now gripping your waist. "Be a good little pet and come with me, okay?"

You struggled against his hold and screamed out, "Ghost!"

Simon, who had just exited the restroom, heard the wail and immediately started to run to you. What he saw had him seeing red.

He forced himself between you and the man and grabbed his hand roughly. "Who the fuck do you think you are touching them."

The man looked as if he was about to piss himself, as Simon was nearly a half foot taller and twice as bulky. "Sorry, man, they acted like they wanted it."

Simon seethed and twisted the man's wrist with such force that you swore you heard bones cracking. "Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. Here. Before I decide to do something that'll end with me in jail."

The man let out a small whimper, grabbed his now bruised hand and ran for the door.

Simon watched as he fled, then turned his attention to you, his eyes softening. "Y/N? Sweetheart, are you okay?"

Your eyes filled with tears as you threw yourself into Simon's chest. "Thank you, Si."

"You don't have to thank me. That's what I'm here for, yeah? Why won't we go home, I'll draw you a bath." He pulled away and cupped your cheeks, carefully pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

You nodded your head slowly and let Simon lead you out of the bar, not expecting him to crouch down on the ground once you made it outside. "Si?"

"Cmon, get on my back. Long way to the car." He gestured to his back and helped you on it, holding your legs tightly as he walked you to his car. He'd be damned if he ever let anything like that happen again to his person.

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

You were walking around your local department store one afternoon with Kyle, looking to find him some new dress shirts. The two of you had a friends wedding to attend that weekend, and Kyle didn't have many outfits to pick from.

"What about this one?" You picked out a light blue stripped dress shirt, holding it up for Kyle to see.

"I'll look like a grandpa with that one, babe." He joked, waiving away the shirt.

"You'd be a hot grandpa." You countered, putting the shirt back.

"Oh hush. I gotta run to the restroom, I'll be right back." He chuckled as he gave your arm a squeeze. You watched him walk away with a small smile before returning to the racks in front of you.

Unbeknownst to you, there was a gentleman who'd been following you and Kyle around the store for some time now, and now that Kyle was gone, it was the perfect opportunity to strike.

You were just rounding the next row of racks when the man came up behind you and started to pull on your purse. You cried out, trying to pull back, but the man was too strong. He yanked with one mighty tug, ripping the purse from your arm, and shoved you backward, sending you toppling into the racks behind you.

"GAZ!" You screamed, as the man stared at you, frozen, before turning the other way and running.

Kyle was walking toward you when he heard you scream, and his blood ran cold. He immediately sprinted in your direction, running right into the man with your purse. The man fell backward, and Kyle looked down to see him clutching your purse.

He put his foot on the man's stomach and pushed down hard. "Give me the fucking purse, asshole."

The man refused and tightened his grip on your bag. Kyle saw red and promptly punched the man square in the jaw, knocking him out cold. He grabbed your purse as a few workers finally came to check on the commotion.

Kyle looked to see you clutching your head in pain. He ran over to you, sliding to a crouch position once he got to you. "Baby! Are you okay?"

Your bottom lip trembled as a strangled cry escaped your throat, and Kyle grabbed you, pulling you to his chest. He had to talk himself down from going and giving the man another few punches.

He tucked his arm underneath your legs and lifted you up bridal style. "I'm so sorry, babe. I've got you. Let's go home. Yeah?"

Kyle spent the rest of the night watching over you and icing the bruise that formed on your head. He made a silent vow that day, that he'd beat the ever loving shit out of anyone who dared touch his baby again.

John Price-

BANG!

You looked up from your computer in your home office at the sound of the loud noise. It was late at night, and John was asleep, so you were concerned as to what caused the sound. You grabbed the pocket knife out of your drawer and made your way quietly to investigate.

Peeking your head around the doorway, you saw a large man making his way through your shared home with your husband. It appeared he'd somehow broken in through the front door.

You let out a small whimper, the confidence you had before now fading. John was fast asleep upstairs, and you had no way to get to him without revealing yourself.

You watched silently as the man started to rummage in your drawers, trying to find anything valuable he could take.

He started to draw closer to where you were, and as you slowly crept backward, the floorboards creaked underneath you.

The man was immediately notified of your presence and caught a glimpse of you as you tried to hide around the corner.

"Hey! You!" He shouted, immediately running toward you.

You sprinted in the other direction, narrowly missing his outstretched hand. You ran into the bathroom in the hallway and tried to close the door before a hand came out to stop it.

"Nowhere to run now." He said, a terrifying smile lining his face.

"PRICE!" You screeched, your heart beating rapidly.

John's eyes flew open at the sound of your terrified cry. With adrenaline coarsing through his veins, he flung himself out of bed and grabbed his handgun from his bedside table. He slowly crept down the stairs and took in his surroundings.

He saw you right away, crouched in terror before a man, who had you at gunpoint. John swiftly made his way behind the man before hitting him hard on the back of his head with the butt of his gun.

The man fell limply to the floor, and you let out a strangled sob. "John."

"Hey love, it's alright. I'm here." He approached you slowly, his hands raised up to show you he meant no harm. You held your arms out to him, and he pulled you into him, holding you tight. "I've got you. Nobody's going to hurt you."

He pulled away for just a moment to call the cops but held a grip firm on your waist, letting you know he wasn't ever going to let anything happen to you.

Johnny Soap MacTavish-

"Alright, babe, I'll run and grab the stuff at the bottom half of the list. You grab top?" Johnny asked, eyeing your fairly large grocery list.

"Sounds good, thanks, love." You smiled at him and tore the list in half, sending him on his way after a quick peck.

You watched as he strolled away, basket in hand, and made for the toiletry section of the store.

You were comparing toothpastes when you felt two men staring at you. You subtly turned your head in their direction, and they quickly looked anywhere but your direction.

You felt a slight sinking feeling in your belly and quickly threw one of the toothpastes in your cart. You made for the next aisle, looking around deoderant for you and Johnny, when the same two men appeared again, walking slowly down the aisle toward you.

Trying to brush off the occurrence as a coincidence, you threw what you needed in the cart and started to make your way to the shampoo aisle. Your resolve quickly crumbled when you now realized the men were following you.

The store was rather empty, so there was nobody close by for you to turn to. You sped your cart up and headed in the direction you thought Johnny might be. The men were hot on your tail, making it clear they were trying to get to you.

You felt one of their hands touch your back, and you let out a cry. "SOAP!"

Johnny was just finishing up his portion of the list when he heard your scream. His heart was beating rapidly as he dropped the basket and ran to you.

"Y/N?" He called out and was met with a horrifying sight. You were cornered in one of the aisles by two men and were crying, your hands up in a defensive motion as you crouched on the floor.

Johnny immediately approached. "Leave my partner the fuck alone."

The two men whipped their heads in his direction, rubbing their hands together. It was clear they were looking for a fight. Johnny lifted his shirt slightly, revealing his sidearm strapped to his waist. "Try it, I fucking dare you. You won't like the outcome."

The men clearly knew better than to create such a scene in a store and decided to flee.

Johnny watched as they ran and crouched down to your level. "Baby. Are you okay?"

You choked out a sob and wrapped your arms around your husband. "I was so scared, Johnny."

Johnny gritted his teeth in anger, he hated that anyone made you feel this way. It took everything in him not to go chasing after those bastards.

"I know, baby. I'm here now, though. Why don't we quickly finish up this trip and grab some takeout, yeah? I'm not really feeling up to cooking anymore." He pulled your face away gently and stroked your tears away. "I've got you, always, okay?"

You nod slowly and let him help you up. He grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours, not letting go until you both reached the car.

[vivwritescrappythings]

Unfair

no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

an au about Joel attending a wedding simply inspired by Pedro's slutty little fit at the SAG awards.

part 2

tw: age gap (late 20s/late 40s), fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, alcohol, she/her pronouns, reader has hair long enough to twist around her finger, Joel is probably poorly written in this, and this whole thing is a little poorly written.

word count: 7.2k

MDNI

masterlist

–

Your mom was smiling as you zipped her into her gown, the chiffon and lace dress gorgeous on her as you fastened the eyelet closed at the top of the bodice. You could feel the lens of the photographer’s camera trained on you both, the woman having been with you the entire morning to document the process of the bridal party getting ready. 

The photographer was fluttering around the room, taking candid photos of you all making small talk and toasting mimosas. The posed photos had been earlier that morning, you all wearing your matching silk robes with your names screen-printed on the back. You didn’t know how much had been spent on the whole production–but it certainly wasn’t cheap. But, to see your mom glowing and her wide smile all morning, every penny must have been more than worth it.

Before you realized, you all wore dresses and bouquets of white flowers with magnificent greenery were being thrust in your hands. The wedding planner was ushering everyone out onto the stone walkway to the barn, women finally meeting men just outside the farmhouse turned wedding venue. The best man looked vaguely familiar to you as you placed your hand in the crook of his elbow to walk down the aisle, he must have been Shawn's eldest brother.

The officiant droned: he just repeated the same platitudes of what it means to love one another and be good spouses. You tried to stay focused, your eyes inevitably wandering. The ceremony space was picturesque: southern live oaks casting shadows in the late autumn sun as they married in front of the barn. It really couldn’t get more Texas than that, especially when you counted the number of cowboy hats in the crowd. 

You could feel someone staring at you for the better part of the ceremony, making you glance out of the corner of your eye as you tried to find the source. Every fiber of you wanted to turn and look in earnest, but you knew that you’d ruin the photos as soon as your body twisted and your happy, grinning face wasn’t facing the bride and groom on the best day of their lives. 

Your grip tightened around the bouquet in your hands as your skin crawled, your focus so jarred that you almost missed your cue to walk out. The cheers and clapping woke you from your reverie before the best man had to. Grasping him by the elbow, you walked back up the aisle between the celebrating wedding guests, the feeling of being watched now fading to the background.

—

When you finally made it to the renovated barn, you were starving and in desperate need of a drink. The photos had run long, the photographers getting you all in a variety of line ups and poses. It was almost time for the plated dinner to begin, guests settling at assigned tables after a cocktail hour and the live band playing quiet music in the corner of the half-inside half-outside space that would eventually serve as the dance floor.

The orange lighting from string lights along the ceiling was soft, mismatched Edison bulbs hanging along zigzagged wires from wooden rafters. It painted the guests and decor in gold tones, making everything look sepia like an old photo.

With your double shot vodka tonic in hand, you found your name written in gold calligraphy on the seating chart. Your mom and her new husband were sitting together at a small table at the front of the room, a faux-neon sign behind them that displayed his last name. Well, their last name now. 

You were at one of the front tables, the ivory table cloth nearly brushing the shiny wooden floor as you plucked your name card off your plate and sat down. There were only a few people you knew at the wedding, neighbors from the neighborhood you grew up in and a handful of your mother’s coworkers. But, they were seated elsewhere. 

Some of the seats on the opposite side of the sprawling white and green centerpiece were occupied with strangers in flamboyant cowboy hats and boots, an obvious sign they were from out of town. You smiled politely as you sat down, taking a long sip of your drink as you checked your phone for the moment of downtime. 

“This seat taken?” A deep, twangy voice made your gaze cut away from the screen and up to the right. You were immediately dumbstruck by how handsome the man was, his umber colored eyes reminding you of the sunlight hitting the tree trunks during the ceremony. A few of his dark brown curls were falling on his tanned forehead, the rest of his hair loosely pushed back. 

You floundered for a moment, lips parting and no words coming out of your mouth. Finally you caught up, blinking a few times. The place card in front of the ornate gold and white place setting next to yours was your saving grace. “Well, uh, if you’re Joel M., the seat is all yours,” you said, looking back up at him.

God, you hoped he was Joel.

He smiled, the lines on his face becoming a bit more defined as he extended a hand toward you. “Joel Miller, nice to meet you…” he trailed off, waiting for your assistance. 

You slipped your hand into his, his calloused palm engulfing yours as he shook it politely. You introduced yourself, neck craned back so you could look him in the eye. He released your hand and sat down, setting the glass he was holding next to yours on the table cloth. 

“So how do you know the couple?” Joel asked you, his gaze dragging over you. You tried not to squirm under the weight of it, your face feeling hot as you set your phone face-down on the table. The way he looked at you made you feel like a bug caught under a microscope.

“The bride is my mom,” you said, fiddling with the elegantly folded cloth napkins for a moment. You glanced at her briefly, watching her giggle at something Shawn had said. 

Joel nodded, a huff of a laugh following. “No shit, so you’re the stepdaughter?” he asked, an eyebrow raised as a smirk lifted the corner of his lip. One of your eyebrows lifted of its own volition, his reaction catching you off guard.

“Do I have a reputation?” A sip of your drink helped wet your dry tongue, your eyes trained on him over the rim of your glass. There was a spike of anxiety in your chest, the temporary fear that he’d heard something bad about you filling your mind. You held your glass in your hand as you crossed your legs at the ankle, waiting for his response.

Joel paused to take a drink, a hand scrubbing over his beard as he looked back at you. He shook his head, waving a hand in a way that was meant to be placating. “Shawn told me about you, said you just moved back to town a few months ago.” 

“Um, yeah, actually. Moved back from Denver,” you said, bashful that the subject of you even came up. You hadn’t realized that you were important enough in Shawn’s life to mention, especially to his friends. Of course, there wasn’t animosity between the two of you, just what you assumed was limited interest. Most men didn't bother to learn too much about their adult stepchildren.

You were both leaning forward as you spoke, the music and chatter of the other guests making the barn a little too loud to hear one another clearly at a distance. He was looking down at his drink, giving you an opportunity to study his profile. Joel was easily twenty years your senior, the dark beard on his jawline threaded through with patches of silver hair. 

“So—“ Joel started, getting cut off by the shuffle of the last people to their seats and an arm thrust between the two of you. The waiters serving the plated dinner made you sit upright in your chair, the soft fabric of your dress fluttering as you put some space between Joel and yourself. 

You didn’t realize how hungry you were until you took the first bite of your food, a sigh escaping you as your eyelashes batted against your cheeks. Conversation floated around your head, you caught polite questions about Joel’s construction business and half-assed replies.

For some reason your mother had put you at a table full of Shawn’s friends, maybe in an attempt to help you get to know him better.

“So you’re a contractor?” you asked after your hunger had been satiated. You’d gotten a refill on your drink from one of the waiters, nursing a fresh vodka tonic as you looked at Joel.

He chewed his steak methodically, nodding as he turned slightly to look at you. “Been building houses for years, my brother, Tommy, works with me,” Joel said after he swallowed, taking his cloth napkin off his wide thigh to wipe the corner of his mouth. 

“Do you like it?” you asked after a moment of contemplation, tilting your head to one side as you looked at him.

There was something about him that kept you smiling, your lips curved like a bow as you sipped your drink from the straw. You studied his features while you could, his aquiline nose and his full lower lip intriguing. Way too intriguing for someone who was your stepfather’s friend.

“Pays the bills, keeps the roof over me and Sarah’s heads.” Joel finished his plate, picking up his drink and leaning back in his seat. 

Sarah? Your eyes dropped to his left hand, not seeing a ring on any of the fingers. Not even a tan line. He noticed it, making your face burn as he chuckled. “Sarah? Your…”

“Daughter,” he cut in helpfully. Daughter, he had a daughter. You exhaled, relieved. But, did he have a wife? No ring, never mentioned her. He would’ve brought her up by now. She would've attended the wedding with him. You chewed the inside of your cheek for a moment, taking a breath as you rationalized.  

Your mouth opened to ask another question when glasses were chimed and dinner was cleared away. Champagne flutes were passed around, and to your horror you realized it was time for your toast. You stood in a fluid motion, adjusting your gown and your hair before heading toward the microphone next to the table with the bride and groom.

–

You spent the rest of the night getting drunk. Champagne became cocktails and cocktails became shots–all with your mother and new stepfather and family and friends from your childhood. Tipsiness made you remove your heels, kicking them off to the side to a forgotten corner as your aching feet pressed against the polished floor. 

The dance floor was cramped, the band having transitioned partway through the night to someone’s phone with a playlist hooked up to the speakers. You watched your mom laugh as she was spun around by her new husband, making you smile as you nursed your glass of wine. 

“You lost something.” Joel approached, pointing to your strappy heels with a lazy finger. 

You grinned, your teeth digging into your lower lip for a moment as you looked up at him. “Looks like you did, too–a few things actually,” you said, nodding toward his shucked suit jacket and tie. The top few buttons of his white shirt were open, revealing just enough of his tanned chest to feel dangerous. He was more disheveled than before, a chilled beer bottle held loosely in his fingers and his cheeks flushed.

Joel chuckled, taking a step closer to you as he took a long drink from his beer. You watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed, taking a sip of your red wine in tandem.

There was something about this man that had you all kinds of flustered, a giddy lightness in your chest when he focused his attention on you. “So why aren’t you out there dancing?” Joel asked, his warm eyes surveying the dance floor before returning.

You shook your head, a demure smile and a shrug. “Never was much of a dancer.” The last time you really danced was wasted at a frat party in college, the lights low and the music making the house shake. Far from a respectable barn wedding, and definitely not your mother’s respectable barn wedding. 

“That’s a shame,” Joel smiled at you, pressing just a bit closer, “a pretty girl like you should be out there.” 

You were surprised by the compliment, nearly choking on your wine as your eyebrows lifted. Joel was smirking, his whole body leaning toward yours. You were warm to the touch, your entire face burning under his attentions. It felt like you were in high school again, pining after some older boy that you assumed would never look at you twice–but here he was, looking.

“Do you always flirt with your friend’s stepdaughters?” you asked, hoping to come off as hard to get. Realistically, he already had you in the palm of his hand.

Joel pursed his lips, something mischievous flashing in his dark eyes for a moment. “Just the ones that look like you,” he said, his deep voice low. It was almost too quiet to hear over the music, making you shift forward so you could hear him better.

“Joel.” It would've been chastising if it wasn’t for your bright smile. He exuded an easy confidence that was magnetic, it had your nerves on fire as you selfishly hoped that he would do more than just flirt with you. Your gaze was on his lips for a moment, taking in the lines of his full bottom lip and tidy mustache before meeting his eyes again.

“The couple is getting ready to leave!” You both looked toward the door and watched the wedding planner usher guests out the barn doors. Sparklers were thrust in everyone’s hands, the photographer already positioned at the end of the walkway near the rented white Rolls Royce.

Joel’s hand found the small of your back, warm through the thin fabric of your dress as he guided you toward the door. The wedding planner handed him two sparklers, the long kind that wobbled under their own weight. 

The guests had divided into two lines, waiters lighting sparklers on either side of the column created. Joel handed you one as you stood at his side, your bare feet on the warm concrete. You held it out from your body, focused on the bright sizzle of the sparks as they made their way down the lines of powder.

Your mother and Shawn walked through the column of sparklers on cue, laughing and smiling while holding hands. They looked so happy. You could hardly imagine being that happy with someone.

She broke off for a moment to embrace you, making Joel thoughtfully pluck the sparkler out of your fingers so you didn’t burn her. 

Tears pushed at your eyelids, overwhelming joy for your mother finally breaking free of your chest. You whispered ‘I love you’s into one another’s ears and pressed kisses to cheeks as you clung to each other. The photographer’s camera was shuttering nearby, catching every intimate moment.

Finally you let her go, tearful and smiling as Shawn pulled her toward the car that would take them to their hotel. Joel’s large hand found the curve of your waist, bringing you to his side as you watched your mother get into the car. 

You were tipsy enough to allow it.

He was warm, smelling like cigar smoke and whiskey and cologne. You both were quiet as you watched the car pull away, your shoulders fitting in the space between his arm and torso.

“You wanna help me find my jacket? Think I left it around back when I was smoking a cigar with Shawn,” Joel murmured into your hair. His fingers pressed into your waist, his breath on your neck.

It was enough to distract you. You blinked your tears away, fingertips brushing at the corners of your eyes to make sure your makeup was still intact. “Sure,” you whispered, looking up at him after you’d composed yourself.

Your heart skipped a beat when Joel took your hand, tugging you along with him down the path on the outside of the barn. Both of you were tipsy, giggling and stumbling a bit over the paving stones that had been set in the tall grass. The lights faded behind you, the dim glow through the high windows of the barn and the solitary strand of Edison bulbs between the trees just enough to navigate by. 

It all happened so fast, you didn’t even know who initiated it. Joel’s calloused hands were cupping your cheeks and jaw, tilting your head up as your lips met his. He tasted like whiskey and the sweet wedding cake, making you sigh into the kiss as your fingers twisted in his shirt and pulled him close. 

You had to stand on your tip toes to kiss him properly, a few soft laughs escaping the both of you when the hard cartilage of your noses bumped and teeth clashed. 

He took steps forward until your shoulder blades pressed against the side of the barn. Joel crowded you in, one hand leaving your cheek to brace against the wood behind your waist as he swiped his tongue along your bottom lip. You could feel him smiling.

You always found French kissing to be weird, never knowing quite what to do with your tongue. Whenever a guy had initiated it you managed to cut it off quickly, moving on to some other method of making out to spare yourself the embarrassment of letting your tongue sit there like a dead fish.

Of course you’d seen people do it, always seeming like a lot more licking each other than kissing. Nevertheless, the second time Joel ran his tongue along the seam of your lips you found yourself parting them for him.

Suddenly, you understood. Joel’s tongue massaged over yours as he groaned softly. You wanted him to consume you, letting him take control as he explored your mouth. He tilted your head back more, leaning over you with his full height. You flicked your tongue along his, spine arching toward him in an attempt to get closer.

The horn of the hotel shuttle startled you as you broke apart, chests heaving and your lipstick smeared onto Joel’s mouth. 

“You staying at the same hotel as everyone else?” Joel asked, nosing at your hairline as his hands roamed over your dress. He bunched it in his fists, raising the hem above your calves and wrinkling the fabric.

“I am,” you breathed, twisting your fingers in his thick curls. 

Joel smiled against your earlobe, nipping at it. “Wanna continue this in my room? Got a king size bed and everything,” he drawled, pulling back to look down at you. There was a sparkle in his eyes, his smile was breathtaking.

You wiped your lipstick off his bottom lip with your thumb, suddenly feeling a bit shy. “You sure?” you asked, folding your arms over your chest in a form of protection from Joel’s possible rejection. 

He offered, but there was still a part of you that was worried.

He furrowed his brow, a smile still on his face as he looked down at you in the dark. “'Course I’m sure. Go get your shoes, baby, and I’ll see you on the shuttle.” Joel spun you toward the nearest door to the barn, lightly smacking your ass go get you moving.

You yelped, swatting at his hand with a glare. 

“Go on, before I ruin that pretty dress of yours in the dirt out here,” he told you, a smirk on his face as he nodded his chin toward the door. You rolled your eyes, acquiescing to his instructions.

—

It took Joel no time to get you down the hall from the packed elevator and to his room. He clumsily tapped his keycard against the sensor, stamping kisses along the side of your neck as you giggled in the cage of his arms.

Finally he got it to unlock, tightening an arm around your waist as he pushed the door open. Joel took wide, staggered steps on either side of your body as he ushered you inside. 

As soon as the door snapped shut he was already lifting the bottom of your dress, kisses turning into bites on the curve of your neck. “Jo-el,” you whined through giggles as you grabbed the forearm he’d locked around your waist. 

“Unfair that you’re this fucking pretty,” he mumbled, making your face heat up as you tried to protest. Joel shushed you by grabbing a handful of the meat of your thigh, groaning in your ear. 

“How’s it unfair?” you managed to ask, your head spinning from the overwhelming presence of Joel. His rough, calloused hands were groping at your soft flesh, his lips sucking marks on your neck like you were teenagers. 

The room was relatively untouched, his open suitcase on the stand near the large windows on the far side of the room. The curtains were slightly open, moonlight filtering in. “S’unfair that I didn’t meet you sooner,” Joel said, scraping his blunt teeth over the sensitive spot just under your earlobe. You shivered in his arms.

He separated from you just enough to shuck his suit jacket that he had haphazardly put on for the shuttle, tossing it on the little sofa in the room. You turned after stepping out of your heels, linking your hands behind Joel’s neck and pulling him in for another kiss. 

Joel smiled into it, his hands grabbing your waist and holding you flush against his body. “You still wanna do this?” His fingers moved to your spine and played with the zipper on the back of your dress, looking down at you as he waited for your answer. "Don't want you to feel pressured or anything."

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be,” you murmured, carding your fingers in his thick curls.

Joel just groaned, pressing you flush against him as he captured you in another needy kiss. He pulled the zipper of your dress down in one fluid motion, making a shiver prickle up the length of your spine.

“Let me see ya, baby,” he said against your mouth, pulling the thick straps of your dress down your arms. 

You let the fabric pool at your feet, your sheer, skin-colored bra and panties leaving little to the imagination. A wave of insecurity flashed over you, your skin suddenly feeling stretched too tight over your body as your face and neck heated up. 

You were too aware of the parts of yourself that you didn’t like: the dimpled flesh on the outside of your thighs and the hairs you hadn’t plucked away because the wedding was the last place you thought you’d find a one night stand. A wobbly smile formed, your instinct making you bury your face in Joel’s neck to hide.

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbled, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear his praise. His massive hands ran down your sides, thumbing at the mesh of your bra and panties before he started moving you backwards.

Your calves hit the bed, making you squawk in an unflattering way as Joel lowered you to the mattress. “You’re so gorgeous,” he breathed, his lips trailing down your neck until he was kissing and sucking at your sternum. He nudged your knees apart with his free hand, his other forearm planted on the mattress to hold his weight off of you. He slotted himself in the space between your thighs as his tongue laved over your nipple through the mesh fabric of your bra.

The noise that came out of your throat was embarrassing. Your breath turned into a strangled moan, eyebrows pinching together. The sensation only made your arousal increase tenfold, spine already arching to press your tit against his mouth. 

Joel chuckled, soft brown eyes ticking up to look at your face. “That sensitive?” he said, more of a statement than a question. You found yourself nodding anyway. He thumbed at your other nipple, making it bud against the thin fabric and pulling another whine from your throat. He snickered.

“Don’t tease,” you huffed, wiggling your hips and lightly squeezing his sides with your knees. 

“Don’t worry, baby,” Joel muttered, a smile stretching on his lips as he rolled the pad of his thumb over your nipple again. He placed kisses along your stomach, making you suck in the soft flesh on reflex. His coarse facial hair tickled your skin, making you giggle a bit as he continued to work his way down your form.

“Just wanna taste ya, okay?” Joel asked, his broad shoulders between your spread thighs. His thick fingers hooked into your panties, manipulating your legs so he could pull them off and toss them somewhere in the room. He pressed your legs apart before you could snap them shut, a seed of worry taking root in your mind as you looked down at him.

You’d never been so self-conscious during a hook-up before, but for some reason Joel felt different. Your thoughts were preoccupied on how you looked from his vantage point, if you smelled alright and if anything looked weird.

“Been wanting to taste you all night, ever since I saw you standing up there during that damn ceremony.”

He spread you apart with his thumbs, eyes focused on your already wet pussy as a smirk stretched across his features. He just stared, making you want to crawl back into yourself. Then the feeling of his tongue on your clit makes you forget your worries, your face scrunching as you moaned. Joel hooked your leg over his shoulder, your heel pressing against his back as he pushed your thighs even further apart. 

You couldn’t remember a time when you’d been so soaked before, sticky arousal practically gushing out of you. Joel’s wide tongue licked long stripes up your cunt, careful to practically gulp down everything that he could. He was groaning as he ate you out, his big hands digging into your waist to pull you closer. The coarse hair of his beard was rough against the soft skin of your inner thighs 

“Oh–oh god, Joel,” you sighed, propping yourself up on an elbow so you could look at him. 

Your thighs were quaking, pressing against his ears as your hips twitched. Joel’s dark eyes were hazy and half lidded as he lapped over your clit, working with a focus you’d never experienced with any other man. He looked beautiful between your legs, belly-down on the mattress and still dressed in his button down shirt and slacks. 

One of his hands left your hip, snaking up your stomach to reach blindly until he cupped your breast. He pulled at the cup of your bra, revealing your peaked nipple. The bud was immediately pinched between his thumb and forefinger, making you arch your back as you let out another whine of his name.

Joel dipped down to shove his searing tongue inside of you as his nose bumped into the swollen bead of your clit. A bolt of lightning ricocheted up your spine, a gasp leaving you. It felt so good you could almost cry, your chest heaving and hips clumsily grinding toward his mouth. You were already starting to tremble, pleasure sparking in the pit of your stomach as he mouthed at you. 

And then he pulled back.

“Joel!” you yelped, starting to sit up as your gaze hardened into a glare. Your pussy clenched around nothing, neglected and empty with an interrupted orgasm.

He huffed a laugh, looking down at you as he knelt on the bed in front of you. “You’re right, baby, that’s my name,” he teased, his voice deep and smokey. 

He grabbed you roughly by the hips, pulling so you fell to your back again. “You fucker–” Joel cut you off by pressing the backs of your knees until you were bent in half, a brief show of just how strong he was. His calloused hands gripped the soft flesh of your ass, readjusting you again so the small of your back was propped up against his quads. You’d never been in this angle before, your pussy the highest point of your body as he pushed his forearms against your thighs to keep you still.

Joel’s hot breath washed over your cunt before he delved back into it, greedy as he started sucking on your clit. With the way you were contorted, you were completely helpless, any attempt to move your hips just made your thighs push uselessly against his arms. You were soaking, your arousal dripping down to your asshole as you whimpered pathetically.

He went at a leisurely pace, taking his time to tongue at you and lick long stripes from your perineum to your clit. Your hands were clenching in the white comforter on the hotel bed, your chest heaving. There was something about being completely at his mercy that made your head spin.

You wanted to be greedy, take everything he would give you; but, Joel was in no rush, languidly pressing his face into your pussy despite your best efforts to get him to speed up. 

It was overwhelming in all the right ways, your head spinning as you watched Joel lick at you like he wanted to consume every part of you. Joel cupped your breast in a hand, strumming his thumb lightly over your nipple to keep it stimulated as you gasped. 

You were delirious by the time he sunk two fingers into you, almost making you scream. Joel took a few breaths, his pink lips swollen and shiny with your arousal as he studied your expression. You could hardly think straight, strings of curses mixed with his name falling from your lips as you panted like a bitch in heat. 

The squelching sound of his fingers lazily pumping into your pussy filled the hotel room, loud enough to make your cheeks burn. You wetted your lips, trying to catch your breath beneath Joel.

“So fucking tight around my fingers,” Joel mumbled, the words muffled and wet because he didn’t pull away. It didn’t even feel like he was talking to you, communing with your pussy instead. The praise went directly to your head, making you tighten around his fingers. You threaded a hand in his hair, keeping his mouth pressed against you. “Tastes just as good as I expected.”

“Oh… oh my god,” you breathed, your climax building toward its precipice. 

Joel wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, just barely speeding up the rhythm of his fingers fucking into you. His thumb on your nipple followed suit, matching the motion as tears filled your eyes. Your fingers threaded into his curls, your brows furrowed as you pulled on his hair. He grunted against you, not letting up as he worked you up toward the edge. 

When you came it was a whole body event. Your legs trembled, hips burning from the awkward angle Joel had bent you into. Your back arched, breath pausing in your chest. Your cunt clenched around his fingers, sucked tight and feeling every inch of them inside you. The pleasure was white-hot as it coursed through you, leaving your nerves buzzing and your ears ringing as your body went limp.

“So pretty when you come,” Joel said, his thick fingers still deep inside you.

You were almost nonverbal, your response a delirious sob as you looked up at Joel with watery eyes. He caressed your cheek, gently stroking your jaw and thumb wiping over your lower lip. You kissed the pad of it out of reflex, the motion making his expression soften for a moment.

Then he started to massage the spongy spot inside of your dripping pussy, making your eyes roll back. “Too sensitive,” you whined, grabbing onto his forearm in a weak attempt to stop him. 

“Trust me, baby, I’ve got you,” he said in that syrupy tone, gaze still locked on your face as you squirmed. He took his hand away from your cheek, holding one of your legs to keep you still as he fucked his fingers into you. “You can do one more for me, right?”

The need to please him made you nod, taking in a deep and shaky breath. You couldn’t do anything but take it, your mouth dropping open and your back arching. The overstimulation made you tremble, your whole body squirming. Breaths kept huffing out of you, your brows pinched tight as you tried to relax. It was hard to think straight, hell, it was hard to even breathe. 

Joel pulled his fingers out of you for a moment to strum over your swollen clit, only touching you with just enough pressure to drive you crazy. He continued until you were straining against him, moaning and sobbing his name. It was like he was carved from stone, hardly giving you any leeway as he kept you in place. The pressure in you built faster this time, it was almost embarrassing how quick he was able to get you to the edge. 

“Joel, Joel, Joel–ohmygod,” you gasped, reaching for purchase against his thigh. His dress pants were soft under your fingers as you squeezed, your body practically vibrating. 

“I know, baby, I know,” he murmured soothingly, pressing a wet kiss to the back of your thigh as his fingers hooked back into you. 

Joel fucked you on them at a ruthless pace as his thumb rolled over the crest of your sex, your mouth opening in a wordless cry as you fell into your second orgasm of the night. You were completely lost, your eyes squeezed shut as your muscles spasmed against the restraint of Joel’s arms. White noise filled your mind, your body melting against Joel’s thighs and the bed as your legs fell open even further. 

He rubbed along the seam of your cunt soothingly, calloused fingers working you through the aftershocks. Your eyes were completely hazed when you looked up at him, splayed on the bed like every bone had been pulled from your body. He looked positively giddy, his wet fingers smearing on your thigh as he rubbed your legs in an effort to help you come back to yourself.

Joel let you off of him, returning your spine to the mattress as he leaned over you to give you a kiss. You hummed into it, smelling and tasting your salty-sweet slick on his lips and facial hair. “Please fuck me,” you begged between presses of his mouth, desperation easy to hear in your tone.

“‘Course I will, baby,” he said, getting off the bed to quickly undress himself. You shakily sat up, unclipping your bra at your back and tossing it aside. 

Joel was impressive, his body rippled with muscles beneath a layer of fat that told you he was eating well. Your gaze dragged down him, mouth watering as you finally saw his cock. It was big, the same tanned tone of his skin with a flushed tip. It jutted from a patch of trimmed, dark hair that was accentuated by the happy trail beneath his navel. You swallowed thickly, pussy clenching at the thought of him fucking you into the mattress.

You kissed him eagerly as he got back on the bed, part of you so desperate to please him. Joel was older than you, so much more experienced, you just wanted him to like you. 

He grunted, curling a hand around the back of your neck to keep you close. His other hand traveled down your body, massaging your hip with his thumb. You were putty in his hands, your own arms in a loop around his neck.

“Lay down,” Joel mumbled against the hinge of your jaw, nipping at the bone. You whimpered, fingers digging into the broad muscle of his shoulders as you complied. Joel ran a hand over you, sliding it down the valley between your breasts and over your soft stomach. 

The backs of your thighs were pressed against his quads as he took himself in his hand, sliding the blunt head of his cock along your pussy. You clenched around nothing, desperate and wanting. “Joel, please.” 

You couldn’t take waiting anymore.

He smirked, notching himself at your entrance and obliging you. Joel pressed and pressed and pressed until his hips were completely snug against yours. He split you in half across the width of his cock, moving slow to give you some time to adjust. It felt like he’d consumed all of the extra space in your body, you even felt him in your throat. 

You breathed brokenly, back arched and hips twitching as you struggled to find a comfortable position. You weren’t a virgin–weren’t anything close to it, really–but it felt just as overwhelming as your first time.

Joel bent over you, his elbows on either side of your head carrying his weight as he ground his hips against yours. His forehead pressed into your shoulder, a heated groan rumbling from his chest. It was hard to make sense of things, rattled breaths filling your chest as your mind whirred uselessly. He peppered kisses over your face, his lips wet and warm as he showered you in affection.

Then he moved his hips, the roll of them slow and syrupy and making you nearly choke. You grabbed at his biceps, an attempt to anchor yourself to him as he started to rut his hips into yours. He made room for himself with every press of his cock, molding you to the shape of him.

Joel collected your leg with a rough hand, pushing your knee toward your chest. He let it come to rest in the curve of his elbow, palm pressed flat to the comforter as he spread you open wider. Your hips protested as he splayed you apart, the discomfort easily taking a backseat to your pleasure.

You keened, mouth falling open as he sank even deeper inside of you. Your breaths came out in little mewls, matching Joel’s grunts as you met each thrust with a weak roll of your hips. His lips were at your throat, sucking more marks into the skin and his facial hair scratching against you. “Goddamn, you’re gonna be the death of me, baby,” Joel groaned into the curve of your neck, still keeping an even rhythm

You let out a breathy laugh–you felt the same way about him. He lifted himself to get a better look at you, dark brown eyes as warm as the summer sun as his gaze drifted all the way down to where his cock was buried in you. He grunted at the sight, pupils dilating like drops of ink in water.

His free hand lifted off its elbow, his weight shifting to one side so he could wet the pad of his thumb with a lick of his tongue. You were making sounds you couldn’t control, each thrust pushing a small gasp from your throat. Then, Joel dropped his hand to your lower abdomen, gently tracing the curve of your belly down into the soft thatch of hair you hadn’t bothered to shave.

A calloused thumb found your clit, swirling over it with a confident pressure in a way that made your eyes nearly roll back in your skull. Joel was pounding into the spot that made you see stars, merciless in his pace. “Joel… oh god…”

You could feel the flutter of your orgasm starting, your legs trembled against his arm and the curve of his waist. You chanted his name like a prayer, overstimulated tears starting to squeeze out of the corners of your eyes and roll into your hairline. He just soldiered on, grinding his thumb over your clit as he worked you higher and higher toward the edge.

A rattling gasp escaped your throat as you pulsed around Joel, your brows pinching and your body stiffening beneath his. You could feel the release from the soles of your feet to the crown of your head, your nails digging into his thick biceps as the flickering pleasure turned into a full on forest fire. You leaned up to wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down onto the mattress with you as you held him close.

“Fuck,” Joel moaned into your neck. His thrusts became sloppy fast, his discipline gone to the wayside now that he made you come on his cock. You felt him twitch inside you, his breath coming out in hot huffs against the curve of your shoulder. His hand grabbed your hip, pulling you down to match his frantic thrusts as he moaned your name into your skin.

You wanted to pull his head away from you so you could see how his face looked when he finished. The muscles in his abdomen clenched, his hips grinding tight to yours as he came inside of you. You moaned with him, the feeling of being filled up by him satiating a need you didn’t know you had as you dragged your blunt nails on his scalp.

Joel finally collapsed, the weight of his body pressing down on you as you combed your fingers through his hair. His hips were cradled by your legs, sweat slicking your skin wherever it was pressed together. You breathed against one another, pulling each other close as you basked in the afterglow.

You were sharing the same air, pressing loose kisses to each other's warm skin as you melted into each other for an unknown amount of time. It could have been seconds, it could have been hours.

“We should clean up,” you finally breathed, able to come back to yourself. 

Joel nodded against your neck, you felt it more than you saw it. You giggled after he didn’t move, still leaving you helpless and pinned beneath him. He seemed to make himself even more comfortable, arms constricting around you and face nuzzling closer to your throat.

“Joel,” you chastised, lightly shoving at his shoulder. It was half-hearted and meaningless–you were more than content to stay here all night if you had to.

“I like how you say that, Joel,” he said, mimicking your voice in an annoyingly high-pitched tone. It made you laugh, throwing your head back against the comforter as you shook it. 

He hissed, pulling away from you just enough to prop himself up on an elbow. “You clench around me like a fucking vise when you laugh like that, baby,” Joel muttered, swirling his fingertips over your skin. He didn’t move to pull out of you quite yet, the two of you relishing in the intimacy of your embrace.

A slow smirk crossed his face, his dark eyes flickering back up to meet yours. “Plus, what’s the point of cleaning up if I’m not done with you yet?”

–

Needless to say, you were sneaking out of his room when the dregs of sunlight started streaming through the hotel room windows, sore and exhausted, with his phone number typed into your phone and his hickeys all over your skin.

[the-fiction-witch]

Breathless

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Flirty Af

Warning: Medical emergency / Asthma Attack

I woke, as I typically did with a sharp fast gasp. immediately I heard the wheeze in my chest like a pair of old moth-eaten bellows. I sighed and turned to my bedstand opening the little rosewood box and hearing the gentle tune of the music box inside plaid as soon as I opened it I grabbed one of the prerolled cigarettes shutting the box again and saw the candle on my bedside table still burning so I set the tip in the flame until it began to smoulder so I laid down on my back slowly but surely taking a deep inhale and blowing the resulting smoke across my ceiling. It fixed it as much as it ever did so I finished up and set the end in my little metal box with many others. 

"There's my sweet girl!" My father gleamed as he entered my bedroom with a wide smile 

"Good Morning Father," I smiled sitting up in my bed 

"It is a fantastic morning, A perfect morning for our party!" He cheered going to open my curtains to let in the sunshine 

I smiled as much as I could force, I knew this was important to him and I wanted only to be supportive. 

"I have a gift for you" He smiled tapping my nose playfully He clicked his fingers towards the door and the maid scurried in with a large box in hand, he took the box from her and set it on the bed opening the box up pulling out from the tissue and ribbon a sweet expensive new dress.

It was beautiful, A long off-the-shoulder dress of a sweet fabric a light pale pink with vertical strips of purple, and white lace at its hem, neckline and lace elbow-length sleeves with a black ribbon at its waist. It was utterly beautiful and would not have been cheap for my father to buy. but I began to panic as I looked at it seeing the ribbon and how small it was.  

I knew my father, he meant well but he always did this and always it made me fearful.

But I forced a smile "Thank you Father" I said giving his cheek a kiss 

"You're welcome, Now come along guests begin to arrive soon" He said rushing off to make preparations. 

I sighed climbing from my bed, I went and had a nice hot bath laying in the warm water for longer than I should just because it seemed to soothe my chest but I soon climbed out and went to my window in my towel looking out to the gardens.

My father was a very wealthy businessman in port with a lot of dealings coming and going in shipping, of course, our house was lustrous and grand second only to the governors only a few miles up the road, but the governor could not hold a candle to my father's gardens, well known in the area and beyond for the grandiose and beauty of the many exotic flowers and plants from all over the world, He took great pride in the garden and this combined with his utter love fort entertaining. Meant we had an awful lot of garden parties. 

Today was no exception my father was hosting a garden party and had invited everyone who could be imagined. He adored parties being an utter social butterfly, I however was more of an.... antisocial bookworm not much wanting to go but knowing word would spread if I didn't attend my father's own parties. It didn't much help my looming age knowing at the back of my mind certain men had been invited not due to my father really wanting them at the party but my father realizing they could be a good match for me so invited them in the hope one would catch my interest. But I know I am a very lucky girl, Many fathers would be insisting by now or would have wedded their daughter off for a business deal. But My father was a decent man and had always promised me I could choose my husband, that I could marry for love no matter who it would be. He felt he couldn't deny me what he and my mother had. 

I went to my mirror and began to dress, I pulled my white stockings up to my thighs adjusting them so the little lilac bows would sit forward, I pulled my long cotton underdress over my body tugging it down as far as it would go, by then my maid arrived and I gulped as she picked up my cream corset. I simply watched the mirror doing my best to not panic as she wrapped it around me and began to lace the back, I did my best to keep my breaths slow and steady but that wasn't exactly easy until finally she finished with the back, she pinned the ribbons in place and turned me to face her so she could pull the ribbons to the front to lace it again leaving me squeezed as much as possible 

"How much more?" I gasped already feeling breathless 

"Not much more Miss." she said "Pencil thin is the London style miss" She reassured

"I am not a pencil. I am a lady." I argued half of me was joking the other half was serious. 

Finally, she tied the last bow and removed the pin in the back as there was now no give in the ribbon at all, she took my crinoline the large wicker bird cage-looking thing that always made me smile a little tieing it simply around my waist and she helped me to slip on my dress, it was beautiful and I did feel very pretty even if again the lacing began as she all but sewed me into the dress ensuring it would be as close to me as possible. Not being helped by my father's purchase choices. 

"Alright miss?" she asked as she finished the last bow 

"Yes. Thank you" I lied, finally she helped me into my shoes and left to attend the party. "Women in London must have learnt not to need to breathe" I sighed I sat at my vanity and did what little make-up I bothered with before finally taking my hair from the tight braid I had done last night allowing it to now be in sweet curls. Once done I looked out to the window again seeing people had already gathered for the party so I grabbed my lace fan and my parasol and headed down to the gardens. 

"Ahhh My goodness an angel!" My father joked as he saw me "You look beautiful" He smiled 

"Thank you Father" I smiled 

"Go on then, Mingle I'll check in on you later," He told me ushering me deeper into the party, I did my rounds parasol in hand often batting my fan to try and get some air down my throat doing my best to greet and be pleasant with people. 

As I made the rounds I took note of those who were here already spotting a few men my father would have invited purely in the hopes of grabbing my attention but as I walked to a less populated area of the garden I took a seat for a moment on the stone bench I spotted a similar soul. 

He stood by one of the statues away from the main business of the party, dressed in his usual way but cleaned up a little better, he seemed awkward unsure why he was here, out of place in this bussle. I felt for him of course and for a moment even I wasn't sure why he was here. But then I recalled seeing Dr Sneed on my walk around the party and I know how my father thinks, my father would have invited Dr Sneed because he is his doctor and thus not inviting his own doctor to his party would be rude, and of course then in my fathers mind he must also invite Dr Dawkins for if he invited Sneed and Not Dawkins that too would have been rude. Honestly, I'm surprised he took up the invitation. For a moment we caught eyes and he offered me a small smile so I did my best to do so back. 

“You alright my sweet?’ my father asked as he approached sitting beside me

“Yes, just wanted a moment from all the excitement” I smiled

‘ahh well come along we are to begin the walk” he smiled to me taking my hand and soon enough the walk began, this was typical of every party my father would lead a walk around the gardens explaining almost every flower and plant giving a tour to the guests of course most ate it up but I slowly but surely slinked away until I was at the very back of the walk where I again found Dr Dawkins.

“Good day doctor”

“Good day miss y/l/n, does your father always do this?’

“Yes” I chuckled moving my parasol slightly higher as to protect him too

“AHH thank you” he smiled moving a little closer to be under the protection of the lace from the blistering sun

“Quite alright” I answered “what brings you to the party?”

“Your father invited me. Wasn't going to bother but something to do I suppose’ he chuckled

“I guess. I rather find it all tedious”

“well we agree on some things’ he chuckled “I have to admit though your dress is utterly stunning”

“Thank you doctor’ I blushed a little but had to fan myself quickly as I felt slightly breathless from the walking

“Ohh don't worry pleatenties of the party you can just call me jack” he smiled

“ohh that's very sweet, thank you jack’ I smiled “then y/n I insist”

“Why thank you, My god is he going to take us past every plant?” He whispered

“That he is” I smiled

“Any particular reason?’

‘its his pride. He adores his garden above all else?”

“Even you?’

“I don't know, I should hope not but I wouldn't be surprised’

“Why? Why would be focus so much on his garden and not his daughter?”

“He promised my other that her beloved garden would always bloom, she died only a few days later” I explained

“Ohh forgive me y/n I-”

“It's alright, he can be… overboard at times” I said doing my best to slow and catch my breath

“Are you alright?’ he asked

“Yes forgive me-”

“No no it's alright, are you sure? You seem lost for breath?’ he said carefully taking my arm

“I'm fine” I answered as I gasped trying hard not to wheeze or cry anything that might draw attention to myself he seemed panicked I tried again and gasp but it just wasn't working and I almost went over

“Whoa. I'm taking you inside’ he said quickly putting an arm around me and taking me quickly back to the house I dropped my parasol and fan as soon as I got in the door trying desperately to get my breath in “which way to your room?”

“This way” I gasped now beginning to cough and wheeze loudly taking his hand and leading him to my room as soon as I was inside I leant on my ottoman trying desperately to get some air into my lungs as he shut the door and came over

“Are you short of breath?”

“Yes” I gasped surely that was obvious

“try to breathe slow for me if you can” he asked and I did my best but that only made me wheeze louder

“Take off your dress.” He said

“I beg your pardon Dr Dawkins!’ I argued

“I need to examine you take off your dress” he said

“I cannot” I answered between gasps

“I'm a doctor I won't look y/n but I need to exmaine you” he said

“No I cannot. My maid she-”

“She's sewn you into the dress?” he asked and I nodded “alright” he said slipping off his jacket and grabbing a small knife from his pocket “I'll be as careful as I can” he said slowly using the blade to cut where my dress had been stitched by my maid until finally it released I quickly stepped away and pushed the dress off me as well as my crinoline immediately I felt a little better as I looked forward letting out slow breaths I caught sight of jack in my mirror he lied to me. He was looking. But I felt still so breathless that I tumbled onto my ottoman ‘whoa whoa! I got you. I got you.” He reassured only just catching me making me sit on the ottoman “I need to remove your corset”

“Doctor!”

“I have to remove it” he said coming to face me starting to unlace my corset ties quickly with his nimble fingers “out of curiosity. How'd your mother die?”

“Respiratory failure” I gasped and he looked up to me seeming panicked

“How old was she?”

“Twenty nine”

“Christ - for - god-” he grunted trying to deal with the knots and loops and ties in my corset until finally he unlaced the front and tried to pull it off but of course it didn't move he looked confused so I moved his hand to my back and he moved behind me seeing of course all the lacing on the back ‘oh you gotta be kidding me!’ he complained “they really didn't want you of this dress.’ he said fighting with the ties before “fuck it!’ he complained grabbing his knife again and cutting though the lacing managing to force the whole corset off me and that helped considerably “there we go.” He said a lift proud of himself “nice and slow let me listen” he said for a moment looking around the room clearly for something to use to listen but “I don't have my tools uhhh okay. Guess we have to do this the old fashioned way” he said sitting on the ottoman with me lifting my underdress up to expose my bare back I glanced in the mirror again and saw his cheeks slightly deeper with red his eyes glancing down from my neck all the way to the ottoman before he moved closer resting his head on my back to press his ear to my skin “nice and slow for me. Just breathe with me In. And out. In and back out” he said and I did my best to breath with him even if I ended up coughing and wheezing as he walked me through a few long breaths “how long have you been like this?” He asked as he pulled back moving so I could see his face letting go of my underdress

“Forever”

“I get the feeling you need to tell me something.” He said

“I'm asthmatic. Have been as long as I can remember.” I answered

“That certainly explains a lot” he said “when did a doctor tell you?”

“I was nine.”

“I take it your mother was too?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, how are you managing it? What do you have to take when you get like this?” He asked

“The box on my bedside table” I told him still struggling he got up and went to the box seeming confused

“What are these?”

“Asthma cigarettes. Prof prescribed them” I answered

“You smoke!’ he argued

“On doctors instructions yes.” I answered

“Are you mad!”

“There not tobacco there thorn apple leaves there meant to help” I said

He sighed begrudgingly bringing one over so I took it and lit it on a candle sitting for a few moments slowly inhaling it all

He brushed the smoke away from his face a moment before rather angrily speaking “he's mad.”

“It helps.”

“So would you sitting not moving for the ten minutes it took you to smoke that” he argued “but that dress wasn't helping in the slightest why on earth did they lace you in that corset so much?”

“It's the style apparently. Plus I needed to”

“Why?”

“...father buys all my dresses two sizes smaller then I am. I have to double lace the corset for a hope of even getting in them

“Why would he do that?”

“He means well. He thinks if he buys all my clothes too small it's… encouraging”

“Encouraging? I hate to ask but when did you last eat anything?”

“...four days ago.”

“Okay, that is also not going to be helping.” He said

“Yeah well you try fitting into a dress with a twenty one inch waist” I pouted

“I think he's trying to kill you.” He joked “you feel a bit better now?”

“Yes. Thank you jack”

“You're welcome. How often do you get attacks like that?”

“once a week or so.”

“Does your father know?”

“Somewhat. I don't always tell him the whole truth”

“Would you be against coming to the hospital?”

“What?”

“I am not confident about leaving you alone tonight. If you agree I'll talk to your father take you to the hospital I'll keep you under observation myself.”

“Why?”

“.... I fear this may be worse then just a simple attack y/n”

“I don't want to worry my father. he's fearful enough as it is”

“Then which would you rather? He be a little worried a stressed as you spend the night in hospital in my care or he comes in here and finds you dead in your bed tomorrow morning because I'm pretty sure which one will upset him more.”

“One night?”

“One night. Under observation.”

“Alright jack”

“Thank you y/n” he smiled giving my hand a kiss “just rest i'll go see your father” he said as he got up and headed out of my room.

Eventually he arrived with my father in tow and the two discussed as my maid packed me some items and my father called us a carriage, I changed into my loosest dress doing my best not to show my father my struggles

“Perhaps Dr sneed would be better he is my doctor he's taken such food care of me” he began

“Dr sneed is very busy he won't have time and what she needs is observations now I have the time to do so”

“Keep me posted won't you?”

“I promise.”

“You'll take care of her doctor?”

“Absolutely, I promise she'll be back right as rain”

“Alright, I'll see you soon sweetheart” he smiled kissing my head before he slowly and tenderly let my hand go giving it to jack, he smiled to me squeezing my hand and leading me slowly to the carriage luckily the party never even noticed but as i sat down my father pulled jack close to him. “Anything happens to her. It's your head.”

“Yes sir” he nodded before climbing into the carriage with me.

[thesuperiorrobin]

Message between the two of you

(I’m like so mad bc I deleted social media and I went back to redownloading it but the app got taken off the app store 😒”

—————————————————————————

Y/n: you have money right?

Damian: no I’m dirt broke poor.

What kind of questions is that?

Y/n: Jesus i was just making sure 😒

But anyway!

Can you do me a huge favor?

Damian: anything for you

Y/n: Can you like buy Apple and then make a single pink heart emoji? Bc these 💕💗💖💞💓 are not like this ❤️♥️💙💜💛🖤

Damian: what���s wrong with those?

Y/n: everything!

Like can you believe they made this 🫀but couldn’t make a fucking pink emoji.

Damian: I’ll see what I can do

Y/n Thank you 😘

—————————————————————————

Y/n: okay so about the math homework

Damian: I’ll send you the answers

Y/n: thx Pookie-bear😘

Damian: you can do it on your own

Y/n: OKAY SORRY

Thank you Mr. Al Ghul Wayne😌

Damian: Pookie-bear is fine with me

Y/n: never thought Id see the Damian wayne type Pookie bear.

Damian: beloved do you want the answers or not?

Y/n: yes please🤲

Thx babes love you with all my heart 😘

—————————————————————————

Damian: open your window

Y/n: no.

Damian: are you still mad at me beloved?

Y/n: no

Damian: your foods going to get cold if you don’t open up

Y/n: ugh fine give me a minute

—————————————————————————

Damian: what the hell is twilight?!

Todd won’t stop talking about it

Y/n: OMG ITS LIKE A CINEMATIC MASTER PIECE.

Hold I have the DVDs. Your front gates and doors better be open by the time I get there.

Damian: Do we have too??

Y/n: you Don’t wanna spend time with your girlfriend? 🥹

Even after you’ve been gone for a month straight 🥹

Damian: my gates and doors are open.

Y/n: good. Be prepared to have your mind blown by this weird, cringy, funny, sad, supernatural films.

—————————————————————————

Y/n: we should get married in Las Vegas

Y’know like elope or something

Weddings in Las Vegas are actually cheap

Just say fuck it and Start a new life after and get new identities. And get away from it all

Damian: that doesn’t sound bad actually

But you deserves more then just a crappy five dollar wedding at Las Vegas out of all places. We’re better then that. 

You, beloved, deserve a grand wedding, with so many people, a perfect dress, perfect decor perfect everything.

Y/n: Can Titus be our ring bearer?🥹

Damian: anything you want it to be. Heck Drake can be the the flower boy. We’ll see our options after we graduate high school—————————————————————————

Do you think Jason’s team Edward or team Jacob

I think he’s team Edward.

Same thing with Damian. Is he a Edward or Jacob fan. 🤔🤔🤔🤔

[aphroditeslover11]

Hi! I hope that you're having a great day/night! Could I request Lenny Miller with a younger reader?

Love Of His Life

This came so naturally, I’m not sure if it’s what you were hoping for but it just flowed out of my hands!

Warnings: a little smut, age gap, not proofread

Lenny had met you when you were spending a year in Paris, having taken a French degree that required you to spend a year abroad as a part of your study. It took some convincing for you to go out on a date with the older man, but he was persistent and eventually won you over. After he had taken you to dinner at Le Meurice, picking up the tab himself, he had walked you home and sent flowers to your tiny chamber de bonne the next day along with a note thanking you for your company. The fact that he was old didn’t mean he was dull or sleazy as you had feared, it meant that he was a hopeless romantic who knew how to treat a woman properly. The next time you met he had taken you for a picnic in the Jardin Du Luxembourg, complete with amazing French cheeses and a bottle of expensive champagne. It was fair to say that pretty soon you were hooked. Everyone always said that you were mature for your age anyway, so the concept of the age gap quickly became irrelevant to you.

A year later and you had finished your degree. When it got towards the end of your time studying in France Lenny had taken the risk of proposing you after taking you back to Le Meurice like he had on your first date. You hadn’t thought before saying yes, he put in for a transfer to be near you whilst you finished your degree and life continued in your strange state bliss.

You tied the knot quite quickly after that, getting married in a small service. His parents had both passed and he was an only child. Neither had much in the way of family, but you had agreed to a wedding in the church where he had grown up in Hawaï, though he wouldn’t admit it you knew that it made him feel close to his parents. You had the perfect white dress and he was in uniform, a hang over from the days when he had been climbing the ranks of Navy SEALs before he had been recruited into the CIA. As there were so few people you didn’t bother having a proper reception, he opted to take you to the beach where he had spent his time as a child, eating cheap burgers as your wedding breakfast and replacing the lights of a dance floor with the soft glow of the stars above you.

After this you moved to New York, he was promoted and took over a senior intelligence post, stationed in the city. He was in and out of the UN meeting with his counterparts, meeting all kinds of people. You knew he worked so hard because he wanted to prove he was worthy of you, his young and beautiful wife. You were remarkably proud of him, even if he found it hard to believe it. He was smart and had invested some of what his parents had left him into the stock market back when he was in the navy and used it to buy a beautiful apartment on the Upper East Side. It had a beautiful kitchen diner where you would attempt to cook together, often ending up in resorting to ordering takeout after Lenny decided that it would be a good idea to modify your recipes. There was something beautifully domestic about this life, it was still unpredictable but safe. Lenny refused to tell you much about his past because he didn’t want you to view him differently, but he gave up the guns and the action so he could live a safe life with you, finally letting himself rest.

After having seen so many horrible things he would want to protect you from the harshest realities of the world. You were young and innocent and so perfect for him, he didn’t want to taint that. He would never let an argument go unresolved before you went to bed. On the rare occasion that you had a proper row he would usually cave first and give you your way. He would usually be so in control of himself, but when he did shout it was harsh and loud, it always terrified you and as soon as he saw the look on your face he would cave. He could never stand the thought of you being afraid of him.

Arguments would often end in the bedroom, he would be the gentlest lover after a fight, peppering kisses along your collarbones before slowly moving down your body. He would be attentive, bringing you over the edge as many times as he could with his hands and his tongue until he had finally made it up to you. Only then would he seek any pleasure for himself, sheathing himself within you and moving so gently it would be as if you were made of porcelain. He’d be terrified of hurting you after seeing you so vulnerable earlier.

There could be another side of him in bed though. A raw and passionate one that came out after a difficult day at work. You learnt how to bring it out yourself over time, how to tease him with subtle touches at the work galas that he took you to and how he could never control himself when he saw you in just your lingerie and a pair of Louboutins. On those nights he would go for rounds at a time. Voracious, like a starving man at a banquet. He delighted in having you spread out below him, completely vulnerable to him and at his mercy. You always looked so small from that angle, he could do anything he wanted to you, and moreover he knew that you would let him and enjoy it. No matter how hard he took you though, he always ended with his head buried in the crook of your neck, whispering passionate prose into your ear and telling you how precious you were to him, how he would never let any harm come to you.

He managed to temper his protective tendencies well. Although both of you knew that it wasn’t a necessity, you found a job working in a little bookshop a few days a week, something to occupy your time. He was always anxious that something from his past would come back to haunt him, to haunt you, but he did his best to keep his worries separate from your life together. On account of your age difference, he was forced to confront the fact that there were things that you would want to do that he had left in the past, many years ago. You had a tight circle of friends that you would go with for nights out - clubbing, dancing and drinking in dives that he would never go into. He would never do anything to stop you, he would want you to live a life as full as you would have without him. Still, he couldn’t help it if he had to stay up until 3:00 am to make sure that you got home safe.

You had a beautiful life together in New York, it was something that you had built together, brick by brick. Every day he found himself falling deeper in love with you. He often said that he would probably have ended up dead in an abandoned corner of some far off land if he hadn’t had you to force him out of his ways. He pushed so hard for so long yet in you, your fragility and youth, he had finally made something to make him slow down. He finally understood the meaning of the phrase - you were the love of his life

[geralts-yenn]

Memories - part 1

Walter Marshall x OFC Maxine (second-person pov)

summary: At your brother's wedding you have to face a ghost from your past - Walter Marshall - and you find yourself lost in memories

warnings: 18+, minors DNI! drinking alcohol, vaginal fingering, hand job, protected p-in-v sex

word count: 4,8k

A/N: a little idea that got me out of my writer's block 😍 special thanks to @peyton-warren for being my wonderful beta and @raccoon-eyed-rebel for the constant support ❤️

My masterlist

“Oh, hello! Who’s that guy and why are you not throwing yourself at him?” Your brand-new sister-in-law nudged you in your side and pointed her chin towards a man standing at the bar. You followed her gaze and noticed a pair of wide shoulders under a head of untamed chocolate curls. For a second you weren’t sure, but then the man turned to the side and you cursed. You’d always recognize that dimpled nose, even when he gave his best to hide the rest of his beautiful face under a wild beard. 

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, it’s Walter fucking Marshall.” Your eyes were rolling in your head furiously. Up to this moment you were praying to all the goddesses in the universe that he would be stopped by a blizzard or whatever would have kept him in Minnesota. But there he was, which meant you had to face him. Something you’ve dreaded ever since your brother told you he’d invite him to his wedding.

Vicky snorted into her champagne flute. “So that’s why Josh never showed me any photos of his most precious childhood companion.” Her eyes were roaming over Walter’s features unashamedly. “He’s delicious. Now I’m really curious why you hate him so much.”

Your prom night should have been the best day of your life. You had been so excited, your friends and you were giggling and cheering for weeks every time you were speaking about what you had planned. After dating Paul for almost a year now, you had promised him to let him get to the fourth base that night. Not just to do him a favor, you were ready. Or so you told yourself. But then the day came and with every minute that passed you got more nervous. Paul had sneaked a flask of liquor into the place and you took a sip, hoping it would loosen you up but it only made you feel more nauseous. 

When you left the party, Paul’s hands kept running up and down your thigh that was revealed by the high slit in your dress. You wanted to tell him to stop, but you couldn’t. You had promised it to him after all. When Paul parked his car at the motel, you were about to vomit. You really, really couldn’t do this. And so you stopped him just as he was about to unlock the door to the room where you were supposed to lose your virginity to him.

You were scared to tell him, and rightfully so. As soon as you had finished explaining, he started yelling. Calling you a frigid whore. You still remember how you thought that this didn’t make any sense. But that night you couldn’t laugh about it. You were shaking and crying when he drove off from the parking lot, leaving you sitting on the sidewalk. The rain starting to fall felt like punishment for your stupid decision. Though you weren't sure yet if your foolishness was to say no or to come here in the first place. Either way you were cold and wet and alone.

What were you supposed to do? You couldn’t call your mom. How would you explain to her that you were in front of a cheap motel instead of your friend Kelly’s house, where you told her you’d spend the night? You couldn’t call Kelly either, she was with Charlie and probably doing exactly what you had planned for tonight. Going through all your friends in your head, you didn’t come up with one name that you dared to tell the truth about what had happened. 

But then it didn’t matter anymore because a car stopped next to you and when the window rolled down you were ready to die of embarrassment. 

“Need a ride?” Walter’s face was hidden in the shadow of a tree, so you couldn’t make out whether he was hiding amusement or showing concern. It didn’t matter anyway. He was your only option to get away from this stupid place, so you nodded and got up. You hadn’t expected Walter to actually get out of the car, but he did. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and guided you to the passenger’s door that he held open for you. 

When he crawled back into the driver’s seat you finally could make out his handsome features. He didn’t look at you, his eyes were glued to the road. You noticed that he was clenching his jaw constantly, his muscles flexing, and the knuckles of his hands were white as he held the steering wheel in a murderous grip. Definitely concern. You were relieved about this. If there was one guy you really cared about what he was thinking about you, it was Walter, your older brother's best friend, the guy you had a crush on since forever. 

“Did that stupid asshole leave you there all alone?” His voice was shaky. He was mad. You nodded with a sniffle. “I’m going to kill him! Did he hurt you?” You were shaking your head, but Walter turned to look at you, his eyes piercing. “Use your words, Max! Did he hurt you? I need you to tell me!” 

You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice. “He didn’t.” It was a whisper but the tension in Walter’s face diminished a little, so you guessed he had heard you. “I told him that I don’t want to do this and he just got a little angry and left.”

Walter grunted through gritted teeth. “A little angry? Max, do you even hear yourself? You’ve got every right to say no and that bastard should have taken it like a man and accepted it. Fuck! I’m so mad, I want to rearrange his face.”

Walter’s anger somehow made you feel better. The way he was protective of you left a warm feeling in your chest. “I appreciate this, Walter, but there’s no need to. I told him to fuck off and never ever try to call me again.”

There wasn't really more to say and you were grateful to Walter for letting you sob in silence and not making this more embarrassing than it already was. 

But then he stopped at a crossing, looking at you. “Can I bring you home? Or do you want to go somewhere else?” His look was a lot softer than earlier, as he studied your face. “I know Charlie has taken Kelly to our cabin. Else I could have let you spend the night there. But you can sleep in my room if that's ok with you. I will take Charlie's. My parents are visiting friends for the weekend.”

The thought of spending the night in Walter's bed got your heart's pace to speed up again. It almost made you laugh. Isn't this what you had dreamt of for years? The crush you had on Walter never really faded, even after you had started dating other guys. But all of this wasn't even nearly the way you had imagined it so many times, laying in bed and picturing Walter's face. Yet, it was your best option right now and so you agreed. 

Walter even asked you if he should change the bedding, but you shook your head firmly, hopefully not revealing how much you wanted to sink into those sheets that held Walter's scent. You were just finished changing for the night, fortunately you had packed a pair of sweatpants and a shirt, when Walter knocked on the door. After you answered with a yes, his curly head appeared in the door frame, glancing carefully into the room. 

“I brought you some water.” When he had checked that you were decent and comfortable with him in the room, he took a step forward and put the bottle on his nightstand. “If you need anything, I'm in Charlie's room.” He had already turned to leave, but then you heard yourself calling his name, not knowing what made you do it. And you couldn't believe your next words yourself either.

“Would you stay a little with me? I don't want to be alone.” 

Walter froze in his movements. A small eternity later, he turned to face you. “Are you sure?” 

Ignoring your racing heart, you nodded and rolled to the side of the bed, making space for him to join you.  

Walter moved carefully, almost as if he feared you would change your mind if he startled you. He crawled under the duvet with you and wrapped an arm over your shoulder, his hand stilling at the nape of your neck.

“Comfortable?” he asked you, and you couldn't get out more than a small yes. More comfortable than you had ever been in your life, you thought, but you would rather die than tell him that.

You lay in silence next to each other for what felt like hours, even though it probably wasn't more than a few minutes. Then you finally had gathered enough courage to speak.

“Thank you, Walter. I wouldn't have known what to do without you.” His fingers started to draw little circles over your skin. 

“No need to thank me. I'm glad I found you.” He was staring at you with an intensity that left you completely unable to form any word or even thought. So instead you raised your hand to his face and carefully traced the sharp line of his jaw with your fingers. 

Walter's lips parted ever so lightly, but it was the only sign it took for you. You leaned forward, your nose brushing over Walter's, his warm breath scraping over your skin. Without a second thought, you crossed the last little distance and your mouths found each other. Your heart skipped a beat as you felt his warm and soft lips against yours. This was better than everything you could have ever imagined. Walter parted his lips, inviting your tongue to explore and taste him. Butterflies were fluttering through your stomach, you felt like you were floating in midair, as his tongue started dancing with yours. 

Walter’s hands roamed over your back as he deepened the kiss even further. You moaned into his mouth. You had never felt like this. There was this strange tension building in your center that you had never experienced with someone else before and it was shooting straight to that point between your legs. You wanted him to touch you. You wanted his mouth on your skin. You wanted him. So bad. But Walter seemed to hold back. His kiss was not that urgent and consuming any more and his hands stopped whenever they were touching your skin, going back to your clothed shoulders. 

“Please, Walter!” you begged. Your own hands found their way under the hem of his shirt and as you brushed your fingers over his abs, he flinched, accompanied by a groan. You felt the soft tuft of hair that ran down from his stomach into the waistband of his pants. Damn, just minutes earlier you would have been sure that it would be gross to feel this. But now you were clenching your thighs together in an unsuccessful attempt to still your desire to feel something. He was everything you ever wanted and he lay here in your arms right now, grinding his hips against your thighs and pressing kisses onto your neck, making sure you felt how much he wanted this, he wanted you. 

You gladly noticed that his will to resist you crumbled under your touch. He pressed himself against you and you could feel what it did to him, feeling his cock hard against your soft thigh. 

Taking a deep breath, you gathered your courage and brushed your hand over his length, restrained by the fabric of his jeans. 

Walter answered your touch with a sharp breath followed by a grunt. “Fuck! Are you sure you want to do this?” His reaction made you insecure for a tiny moment, but the way he rutted into your palm gave you new courage. 

“I am.” You sounded confident, but Walter wasn't convinced yet. “Promise me that you will tell me if you want me to stop, Max!” You saw the tension in his face as he waited for your answer. Nodding wasn't enough for him, his eyebrows furrowed. “I promise,” you breathed finally. 

After he had heard you, Walter wasn't able to hold back anymore. He grinded his crotch up against you as his hands found their way under your shirt. When his fingertips brushed over your sides, electric shocks ran through your whole body. 

Frantically, both of you tried to remove each other's clothes. Your hands got tangled as you tried to unbutton Walter's jeans. He chuckled and then helped you with the task. 

You swallowed hard when you saw his erection hardly hidden in his boxer briefs. He was a lot. Definitely more than you had ever seen. Not that you were very experienced in the department of hard-ons, but it made you hesitate for a moment. 

Of course, Walter noticed. “Are you okay?” You nodded as you bit back your insecurities and gave him a determined yes. You reached for him, but Walter pushed your shoulders back onto the mattress. His body pressed you down while he was licking and sucking along your neck. Your shirt was in his way as he moved down your collarbone and he gave way just long enough for you to tug it over your head before his mouth was back nipping on your tender skin.

Walter's head sank lower, his face soon buried between your breasts. You felt his lips and tongue move over your chest, leaving a trail of wetness behind that made your skin prickle. 

When his mouth found its destination on one of your hardened nipples and he bit down on it, the sensation shot right to your core. You wouldn't have been able to suppress the lewd sound you made, even if you wanted to. His tongue lapped over the hard bud to soothe the ache but it only made you moan louder. Walter responded to the noises you made by grinding his cock against your thigh. 

All this felt incredibly good. Way better than everything you had ever felt with Paul. When Walter moved to your other breast and treated it in the same passionate way, you pushed the thought of your ex aside. In fact, you just stopped thinking at all and let your instincts take over. Your head fell back as you moaned loudly when Walter pinched your one nipple while sucking on the other. All this wasn’t enough, there was this need between your thighs that made you feel so desperate. Your hand wrapped around Walter's wrist and guided him firmly into your panties. 

“Oh, fuck!” he groaned when his fingers met the wetness that pooled between your legs. He ran his fingers along your slit a few times, gathering your arousal before he switched to rubbing circles around your clit. You bit your lip when he found just the right spot and pressure, only to curse when he left it way too soon. “No, please, this felt so good.” You weren’t even ashamed of begging. You just wanted to feel more of this. 

“Let me make it a little more comfortable?” Walter asked you as he tugged on the waistband of your panties. You lifted your hips and he made quick work of rolling your underwear down your legs. Your knees fell to the side, opening up for him. And Walter was eager to get back, his fingers now moving with even more skill through your folds and around your bundle of nerves. His mouth was back on yours now, kissing you hungrily, his tongue darting into your mouth and swirling around yours the same way as his fingers were now circling your entrance. 

You rolled your hips in response, showing him to move on, to finally give your aching pussy something to clench around. And Walter obeyed your silent pleas, pushing one of his fingers into you in a painfully slow movement. He was not just pumping into you, he was exploring you, inch by inch, feeling for every spot that evoked a reaction from you. And when he found what he was looking for, when you arched your back, crying out, he curled his lips into a smile and he added a second finger. You noticed the stretch, but it felt good, the way he pressed against your walls exactly where you wanted him.

Now he started to thrust his fingers into you in a steady rhythm. You moved your hips against him, fucking his fingers. Walter’s other hand held your jaw firmly as he devoured your mouth, swallowing all the sounds that wanted to pass your lips. You felt the tension building in your core, spreading through your body. “Please, I’m close!” you whimpered, Walter answered with increasing pressure against your sweet spot and you snapped. Waves of pleasure ran through your body. You were a shaking mess in Walter’s arms.

“Shush, I got you!” he whispered in your ear, pressing kisses along your neck. He held you close until your soul was finally back in your body. And you couldn’t help it, you weren’t able to suppress the stupid giggles. Walter grinned down at you. “What?” he just asked, with the smug confidence of someone who knew exactly what he had done to you. “This was good!” you told him with a wide smile.

You continued with kissing and hands roaming over each other’s bodies. But the hard cock pressing against you reminded you that Walter hadn’t gotten nearly the attention that you got from him until now and you really wanted to change this. You brushed a finger up his length until you were at the waistband of his boxers. Your thumbs dug into it and carefully pushed it down to free his cock. 

Your hand wrapped around his length and you found yourself surprised at how soft the skin felt over his hard flesh. Slowly you started to stroke him. Your thumb ghosted over the tip of his cock and Walter let out a sharp hiss in response. Your eyes shot up to him, fearing you had hurt him, but the expression on his face told you had done quite the opposite. He had his eyes closed and his lips parted and when your hand started moving up and down his length again, he bit down on his lower lip. Seeing him like this made you all weak in the knees and you drank in the sight of it. Your pumps got more hasty now in the attempt to make it feel better for him, but that made Walter’s hand reach for you and stop you. “Wait!” He immediately saw the panic flashing over your face and he tried to chase it off by kissing you softly. “It’s just a little too dry. But we can change this.” 

He had his hand already reaching out to his nightstand when you took it and guided it between your legs. “I know a place where it’s not too dry.” Walter cursed at your suggestion. His chest was heaving. “Baby, do you really want to do this?” His voice was deep and raspy. His constant check-ins half annoyed you, half melted your heart. “You already made me promise, Walter. If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t suggest it.” To make your point clear, you steered his fingers through your wet folds and he moaned as he felt the slick at your entrance. Walter swallowed and then moved to sit on his heels. “Okay then.” He couldn’t hide his nervousness in his shaky voice, and it was relieving to know that you were not alone with your excitement. He rummaged through the drawer of his bedside table until he held a condom and a bottle of lube in his hands. He rolled the condom over his dick and spread some lube over it. You watched him pumping his sheathed cock a few times, your heart almost breaking through your chest. So this was really happening.

Walter moved to settle between your legs, holding his weight on one elbow as his other hand guided the tip of his cock to your entrance. His eyes locked with yours, a last reassuring that you wanted him, and then you felt him enter you. The feeling took your breath away, it was overwhelming. You had expected to feel pain, but there was merely a small stinging that ebbed away immediately. Slowly Walter pushed deeper, until he was buried completely in you. He was looking at you with an expression you had never seen before. Something deep and vulnerable. His chest was heaving as he hovered over you. “Breathe!” he whispered and you obeyed, taking in a deep breath as Walter started to move. You whimpered as you felt him deep inside of you. “Does it hurt?” he asked you, concerned, but you just smiled. “No, it feels unfamiliar, but in a very good way. Keep going.” And so Walter started, retreating from you and thrusting back in. It was amazing, it made you scream, nothing had you prepared for feeling this way. It was heaven. And it must have been the same for Walter. He lost his rhythm, now slamming his hips desperately into you. You loved how vocal he was, grunting with every stroke. And then he threw back his head with a loud growl and you felt his hips shudder as he reached his climax. 

He pulled out of you, carefully, not to lose the condom. You felt empty without him and the kiss he pressed so firmly on your lips could barely make up for it. He held you in his arms as you both gasped for air. But when your breathing was almost back to normal, he left your side. “Just a minute. I need to take care of this.” He made a vague gesture toward his softening cock that was still covered by the condom.It took him only a minute until he was back in bed with you. “I’m sorry.” he said and you weren’t sure what he meant until his fingers were parting your lips and rubbing circles over your clit. “Let me make up for it, okay?” he asked you. You moaned but then held his hand in place. “You don’t have to do that, Walter.” you told him. And you meant it. All that you had felt with him tonight was better than you had ever imagined.“But I want to.” He resumed his ministrations between your legs. “I want you to feel good, too.” Another shaky breath later, you were able to answer him. “You already did that.” Walter smiled as he pressed a kiss on the corner of your mouth. “Another one surely won’t hurt.”

*****

You were sitting in the kitchen, making up your mind how long it would take you to walk back home. Too long. But did you have any other choice? Just as you were about to get up and head back home, you heard keys in the door and a few seconds later, Walter’s little brother was standing in the room looking at you confused. 

“Hi Charlie! Would you please drive me home?” He blinked at you and scratched his head. “Do you want to talk about it?” he just asked, probably running through all the possible scenarios how you ended up at his home early in the morning. But fortunately, he let go of it as you shook your head. So you had at least a little part of dignity left in his presence until Walter had time to fill him in about his last night’s conquest.

That afternoon, you found Walter standing on your porch when you were on your way to meet Kelly. “Josh isn’t home,” you told him indifferently, not even slowing down as you passed him. You had ignored all his calls and the messages he had sent. You didn’t want him to feel obligated to talk to you. To act as if he cared. Seeing him wouldn’t change this. Though it made it impossibly hard. It was just unfair how handsome he was. And when you looked into his face, he almost appeared to be sad. But you knew better, he was just tired of you already. 

His hand wrapped around your wrist as he stepped in your way. “Maxine, stop acting like nothing had happened. We need to talk.” You rolled your eyes at him and tried to free from his grip. Walter let go of your hand with a sigh. 

“Don’t make this bigger as it was, Walter.” you told him, rubbing your wrist as if his touch had burnt your skin. “We’ve been having fun, that’s it. Can we go on with our lives now?” You couldn’t even convince yourself with your words, but that was never the plan. You had to keep Walter away from you. Getting your heart broken by him was more than you could bear, so you decided to run before it was too late. 

Walter was shouting after you as you stormed down the steps. “Let me take you on a date! Give me a chance, Max!” A heavy weight pooled in your stomach as you heard it. This was all you ever wanted. But you were way too scared to act on it. Just thinking of your night with him almost broke you. How would it be to have more precious moments with him and then losing it all? Because that’s what was supposed to happen. He’d go back to college and find someone else. In no way could he ever be truthfully interested in you.

You had to turn him down a few more times. Later you started ignoring him just completely. That didn’t stop him. He gave you his damn puppy eyes and tried to talk to you. So you started to be mean to him. You said stupid things you didn’t mean, just to keep him away. And after a while it worked. The looks he gave you had changed. They were filled with anger and frustration now. And soon you found yourself hating each other. Initially, you weren’t sure if you just pretended to feel so, but after a while you had convinced yourself that this was what you felt for him. You hated looking at his stupidly gorgeous face, you hated his voice, the jokes he made, the way he was strutting, as if the world belonged to him. You hated that all the girls lay at his feet, acting as if he hung the moon. You hated him.

And Walter hated you. His jokes always went against you. He mocked every one of your life decisions. He laughed about every single thing you did.

And then he moved away. And somehow it almost felt like you missed him. And that made you hate him even more.

“I guess you never told Josh about that night?” Vicky smiled at you with amusement. She loved hearing about dramas like that. But you couldn’t be mad at her. It had been such a long time. It should be a funny story to tell by now. Yet, it still hurt to think about it. You never managed to get over that heartache. Well, that’s just how it is when your heart gets broken for the first time in your life, right?

“You know, you should have talked to him.” Vicky told you and you looked at her quizzically. “Who, Josh? No! He would have killed Walter. Or me. Probably both of us.” 

Vicky chuckled but shook her head. “Not Josh. Walter! You should have been honest with him about your feelings.”

You sighed. It wasn’t as if you had never thought about it. To be fair, you have asked yourself the same questions every day ever since. Should you have told him? Would it have been a bad idea to let him take you on a date? Would you two have had a chance? But it didn’t matter because you didn’t let him. And you would never know what could have been if you had decided differently back then, when you were eighteen and so much in love and so incredibly stupid.

Your sister-in-law watched you with narrowed eyes as you sat there thinking about your past with Walter. “It doesn’t matter, Vicky. We’re not teenagers anymore. It’s too late for that now.” 

But she shook her head. “It’s never too late. He’s here. You can tell him now.”  

A ridiculous voice in your head told you that she was right. That all it took was to take a step towards him and see what would happen. But you shook it off.

Part 2

[hartsider]

“Birthday Cake” steve harrington x reader | 466 words

Summary: Steve gets you a cake

No cw

This is totally not indulgent at all because my birthday's coming up (fun fact: my favorite cake flavor is wedding, hence this one having white icing). Also I'm not happy with this but we continue on

Steve has a box on the table. He's dressed somewhat nicely for a night in, and he gestures to a seat for you to sit.

“What's this?” You ask, in your pajamas as you look at him.

“I know we've been busy, but I got you a cake.” He tells you.

This morning, Steve told you happy birthday before work. You'd gotten an extra kiss goodbye and a promise that your birthday dinner would happen as soon as things calmed down.

“We could've waited.” You say. He's getting plates and forks and a knife to cut the cake.

“No, it's your birthday. The least I could do was get you a cake.”

Steve opens the box. In it is a small cake, more than enough for the two of you, frosted neatly in white buttercream. He sinks the knife into it to cut two slices.

He gets the joy of watching you while you're distracted by your slice. You cut a bit while he watches, waiting to see if you like the cake even though he knows it's your favorite flavor.

“How is it?” He asks practically as soon as the fork is in your mouth.

“Good,” you say. Steve has a bite of his own cake.

“I also have,” he says, pulling a confetti-printed gift bag from a chair, “a birthday present.”

It's handed over and you pull out its contents: a shirt you had been eyeing a week ago that you'd decided was too expensive, the biggest size of your favorite candy, a new journal to replace your almost-full one.

“Thanks, Steve.” You say, opening the candy and immediately giving him a bit to share. You're already making plans to wear the new shirt to work. Steve will fawn over you as soon as you do, just like he always does when you wear something new for the first time. Just like he often does regardless.

You can see nighttime through your window. You and Steve should go to bed.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” You ask anyway. You don't want to sleep yet.

“Sure.” Steve tells you. He packs up the cake again and slides the box onto the counter. “Go pick something out.”

You wander to your living room and pick out one that always makes Steve cry, and he gives you a light pinch when he sits down with you. It's more of a squeeze than anything.

“Cheap move.” He tells you, starting it. You pull a blanket from the arm of the couch and drape it over your legs.

Somewhere through the movie, you end up with your head in Steve's lap and his hands in your hair. He leans down to press a kiss to your lips, murmuring to you as he sits up again.

“Happy birthday.”

[strangersteddierthings]

Writing Prompt from this list requested by @tayloreever

#23. "Just pretend to be my date." and #60. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to seduce me." Set in a world where homophobia doesn't exist because that fits my vision better.

-

This is stupid. This is stupid and he shouldn’t have agreed. He looks stupid.

Eddie’s caught sight of himself in the tall, perfectly clean windows of the Chicago penthouse Steve lives in (fuckin’ trust fund kid that Steve is, having a fucking penthouse for himself). Eddie’s got his hair pulled back into a low ponytail and he’d used hairspray to try to tame his wild curls into something half presentable, but the cheap hairspray hadn’t held up on his way here (three separate buses he’d had to take and it was fuckin’ windy) and he could see it starting to look fuzzy again. The black suit he’s wearing has been perfectly tailored for him but he feels like a pretender in it He doesn’t even remember the last time he’s worn a shirt with buttons, much less the last him he’s had them all buttoned and a tie on. Stupid.

He feels like some chump playing dress up.

Eddie is good at forgetting that Steve comes from money. It helps that usually they’re hanging out at Eddie’s trailer, Robin’s apartment, roaming the Chicago streets, or cafes and bars. Plus, Steve doesn’t act like a spoiled trust fund kid (most of the time).

Doesn’t matter. He shouldn’t have agreed to this when Steve had asked him, weeks ago now, in Robin’s apartment kitchen.

“A date!” Steve had shouted. He looked a little manic. Eddie heard as Robin had cackled from the living room. “Oh. Sorry. Shouldn’t have just yelled that at you. I’m a little worked up.”

“Why do you need me to get you a date?” Eddie was confused.

“No, not get me a date. Be my date. To the charity event!”

“What,” Eddie said. Because since when does Steve want to go on a date with him? Eddie really shouldn’t be questioning it because it’s the only things he’s wanted for months now.

“Can you just pretend to be my date,” Steve said a little bitchily as he’d put his hands on his hips, “for one night?”

Oh. Pretend date. For one night. That… yeah, that checks out. Makes more sense in Eddie’s head than Steve actually wanting him the same way he wants Steve.

“Eddie, yes or no?” Steve said.

“Alright, alright,” Eddie had thrown his hands up in defense, “One night! Jesus.”

He should have said no. Steve’s going take one look at him and laugh up a storm at how stupid he looks.

“Eddie!” Steve’s voice startles him and he jumps a little, turning quickly from where he’d been staring at his own reflection to see Steve enter his living room. Steve looks downright sinful, all dressed to the nines in a burgundy suit. Even the fucking loafer’s Steve is wearing are the same shade of burgundy at the suit. His hair is styled perfectly, not a hair out of place. Makes Eddie want to reach out and ruffle it just to get a reaction, while simultaneously wanting to smooth down is own hair, which he knows looks pathetic. “I-thanks. I wasn’t sure if you’d actually, y’know, follow through.”

“Why wouldn’t I? I said I would and I’m a man of my word,” Eddie aims for sounding casual, like he’s not currently stressed and spiraling.

“Yeah, of course man. I know that,” Steve says, “guess you wouldn’t sit through three separating tailoring sessions to not wear the suit.”

“Exactly. Plus, like, now I got something to wear to weddings and shit, if our friends ever get their shit together and someone proposes,” Eddie spreads his arms, “so, how do I look?”

Steve looks him up and down, eyes moving slowly as he seems to be taking every detail of Eddie’s look. The longer it takes him to speak, the more Eddie’s certain that he does in fact look stupid. “You look fine, Eds. What’d you do to your hair?”

Eddie’s stomach drops. He fucking knew it. He looks like some idiot pretending to play at high class. Eddie knows better. He’ll never be anything more than trailer park trash and no shiny new suit could make him look any different. “Nothing. Don’t we have to be going?”

-

Eddie should have said no because this is goddman torture. Steve is a prefect date. He holds doors open, introduces Eddie (with enthusiasm) to everyone that comes up to them, gets him drinks and snacks, seems to keep one hand on the small of his back the whole night, grounding Eddie.

He talks up Corroded Coffin as if they’re a legitimate up and coming band and not some garage band that plays in sleezy bars every few months. Parades Eddie around like he’s a catch and everyone should be jealous that their date isn’t Eddie. Every twenty to thirty minutes he’s using that hand on his lower back to guide him outside, to the must more deserted courtyard, like he knows Eddie is overwhelmed and needs a break.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to seduce me,” Eddie says the next time they walk away from some random couple they’d gotten roped into talking too, because Steve had slid the hand on his back to be fully around his waist and his nuzzled the side of his face when the lady had said they made a cute couple and if Eddie doesn’t make a joke of this he will explode.

 “Is it working?”

Eddie has to laugh at him to keep from giving himself away.

So, all in all, it's fucking awful. If Steve could have at least been a bad date, flirted with the single ladies they talk to in front of Eddie or something, this might be bearable. Eddie doesn’t know if he can survive a night of having Steve dote on him, all lovingly and shit, and it not actually be because they’re in love.

Eddie’s trying his best to keep it together, really, but then Steve’s parents, the hosts of this event, finally get the time to get away from the other Elites and come talk to him and Steve.

“So, you must be Eddie!” Mrs. Harrington coos, immediately stepping into Eddie’s space and giving him a kiss on the cheek, the exact same she’d done with Steve when they approached. “We’ve heard so much about you!”

“Y-you have?” Eddie can’t keep the surprise off his face or out of his voice.

“Of course,” Mrs. Harrington laughs. “You’re all we hear about these days. Have been the main topic of Steve’s calls for years now.”

“Mom!” Steve hisses, embarrassed no doubt by the assumptions his mother is making.

“She’s right, Steve-o,” Mr. Harrington says, patting Steve on the back like he’s sympathetic to his wife’s antics. “We haven’t heard this much about a person since you dated that girl in high school. What was her name? Natalie?”

“Nancy, honey,” Mrs. Harrington helpful supplies, “Nancy Wheeler. Oh, I wonder how she’s doing these days. Do you keep in touch, Stevie-Bee?”

“Stevie-Bee?” Eddie is delighted to repeat because he is going to call Steve that forever now.

“Mom!” Steve hisses again, “I am twenty-six years old. I think you can stop calling me that. Especially in public!”

“Oh, but you’ll always be my little Stevie-Bee, buzzing around so fast.”

It takes all of Eddie’s willpower to not snort a laugh. Holy shit. Steve’s parents are embarrassing and this is the best thing that could have possibly happened to him.

“So, Eddie, Steve says you’re a musician,” Mr. Harrington seem to take pity on Steve, switching attention to Eddie, “in a rock band. Says your amazing but haven’t been signed yet.”

“Oh, uh, no. No, not signed… yet,” Eddie adds the yet as an afterthought, because he’s certain they’ll never get signed for real, but he’s not going to admit that to the Harringtons.

“Shame, shame,” Mr. Harrington frowns, “I tried to get Steve to send me a demo of your music but he refused. Said you wanted to make it on your own, not be ‘bought by the industry’. But if you ever want a leg in, I do know a few producers looking for new talent. I promise I won’t talk you up. Just hand them the tape and let them decide if they like you.”

Eddie feels a bit lightheaded. What is happening? Because it’s true. Eddie had said they wanted to make it on their own, had kind of yelled it at Steve when Steve had offered to use his semi-famous status to get them gigs in better places. Eddie hadn’t wanted his charity, because that’s what he felt like it would have been, when Steve offered that years ago. But Steve talks to his dad about his band. Steve knows how important it is for him to not just pay his way to the top. This is too much. This tie is too tight, and this shirt is buttoned too high for him to catch his breath.

Steve’s hand is on his lower back, leading him away, calling over his shoulder to his parents, “we’ve got to go over there now, thanks, bye!”

Eddie hears Mrs. Harrington laugh like Steve’s told a hilarious joke but it fades quickly as Steve basically runs him back through the gala and up the stairs, to the private bathroom that was reserved for, apparently, only the Harringtons.

Honestly, Eddie’s calmed down by the time they reach the stairs but he lets Steve lead him all the way to the bathroom. They stand in front of the counter, blocking access to the sinks. Not that it would matter, because no one else is in here.

“Sorry, for them,” Steve immediately apologizes for his parents, “they mean well, but they’re… a lot.”

Eddie doesn’t respond right away because his brain is still processing. Steve talks about him to his parents. “You told your dad about my band?”

Steve won’t meet his eyes. “Umm, yeah. He doesn’t look like it, but my dad’s a Black Sabbath fan. And you said that was like, one of your inspiration bands when starting Corroded Coffin so…”

That pulls a laugh from Eddie, high pitched and awkward because Mr. Harrington is a white collar worker, who wears three piece suits and has his hair cut close to his head, and the thought of him head banging in his car on his drive to work enters Eddie’s mind against his volition and he must laugh at the image it conjures. “Holy. Shit. Stevie-bee.”

“Do not-“

“Your parents are so embarrassing. No wonder you needed me to be your date. Holy shit. Just imagine if you’d brought a real date. They’d have run away so fast!”

“Yeah, well, thanks for not running.”

“I’m trying to blend in. Running would be too much of a spectacle.”

“Blend in? Is that why you did that?” Steve gestures to his hair and Eddie feels his face heat up. “and why you pick just a regular black suit?”

“You said black tie event. Of course, I picked black. And what’s wrong with my hair?” Eddie turns his head to look in the mirror before looking back to Steve.

“Nothing’s wrong with it, Eds. It’s just not… you.”

Of course, it’s not, Eddie thinks. He’d been thinking that the whole way to Steve’s penthouse. The double takes people on the bus had given him had told him he’d looked ridiculous. He’d thought that when he saw his reflection in Steve’s windows. “I know! This isn’t me.” He gestures to all of himself.

Steve tilts his head slightly, looking Eddie up and down again. Instead of speaking he steps into Eddie’s forward and starts yanking at his tie. Eddie’s frozen because Steve’s so close and he looks so determined suddenly and Eddie wants to see where this is going. Steve throws the tie on the ground before going for the buttons on Eddie’s shirt. He undoes the top three, then moves to his suit jacket and undoes all of them.

Then, Steve steps closer, into Eddie space, reaching up behind his head to remove his hair tie. Steve pulls his hair a few times during the attempt, but he doesn’t stop Steve. Once his hair is free, Steve flings the hair tie over his shoulder and runs his hands through Eddie’s hair, shaking it out and pulling it forward.

“There. Better.”

Eddie turns to the mirror and is disappointed. Steve said better and Eddie had been expecting better. But it’s just him. His hair looks like it does every day, wild and frizzy and everywhere. “Better? This is how I always look.”

“I like how you always look, Eds,” Steve says, quiet and serious. In the mirror, he watches Steve’s reflection stare at the side of his head. “I think you’re beautiful.”

Eddie gives himself whiplash turning to look at Steve. “What.”

Steve shakes his head, a self-deprecating laugh coming from his lips. “Come on, Eds, like you didn’t know.”

“I don’t know,” Eddie argues because it’s true. He’s got know clue.

“Look, if this is gonna make it harder for you to pretend to be my date, we can go. I don’t want this to be awkward. I just wanted…”

“Steve. Stevie,” Eddie feels a little bit like he’s on fire. “I am going to need us to talk right now because I’ve spent this whole night thinking I looked stupid and you tell me I’m beautiful and that’s-“

“Stupid!?” Steve says, indignant, “never! You just looked so uncomfortable and-“

“No, I was still talking!” Eddie shouts, “I’ve spent this whole night wishing you were a terrible date because then I could go home and forget about this but instead you’re a perfect date and you think I’m beautiful and you talk to your parents about me and I really, really want to kiss you.”

Steve takes his face in his hands and then Eddie is being kissed. Holy shit. It’s the best kiss of Eddie’s life. When they separate to catch their breath, Steve blurts out, “I told my parents we were dating. Months ago. They wouldn’t stop asking and mom can always tell when I have a crush and I just panicked and told her we were together and she said we had to come to this event so she could meet you because this was the soonest they could get to Chicago.”

Eddie’s lightheaded all over again. There is a lot to unpack in Steve’s word vomit but that can be a later problem. Instead, Eddie just pulls him in for another kiss.

Or five.

Who’s keeping track anyway?

[gender-trash]

the post about fast fashion/sewing one’s own clothes blew up again… honestly the more i think about it the angrier i am about it. with both clothing and furniture we sort of live in a world where the market is being overtaken by disposable items made with cheap materials at the lowest possible labor cost. and like, not to diss ikea or anything — god knows they’ve supplied me with enough cheap bookshelves — but this is exactly why i ended up building my own desk.

my dad tells stories about his mom, who was very talented at sewing — it wasn’t her “day job” but in that part of rural iowa in the 60s she was the person you called if, say, you needed a wedding dress on next to no notice. (i’m also told she was excellent at baking pies, but that’s beside the point.) at that time and place, it was legitimately *cheaper* to make your own clothes than to buy them from the store. they would be made of much the same materials, except that you would substitute your own labor for that of whoever assembled the storebought garment.

today, the fabric to make a shirt will almost certainly cost you more than an equivalent department store shirt would. to say nothing of the cost of your time and labor. part of this is that people who sew their own clothes generally don’t want to waste their time on shit fabric, so fabric stores don’t sell quite the same grade of shreddable polyester. part of this is that our modern globalized supply chain has minimized both labor and materials costs as hard as it can, and this optimization has intertwined labor and materials sourcing a lot more than they apparently were in the 60s.

let’s turn back to the subject of furniture. the equivalent of the cheap polyester department-store shirt is the ikea desk. the desk surface is made of laminated particle-board, which is lighter and cheaper than actual wood; the desk is sold to you flat-pak, and you assemble it yourself, thus saving on labor costs. the laminate surface will probably delaminate after a few years’ use. also as with the cheap shirt, any damage is near-impossible to fix — you could sand and refinish a scuffed plywood surface, but there’s no sanding laminated particle-board. it’s also harder to modify to suit one’s needs — i can drill a neat hole for a monitor arm in my plywood desk much more easily than in a particle-board surface.

in both cases, what do you do if you want a slightly higher grade of item? well, obviously you’ll have to pay more money — but it’s difficult to be sure you’re really getting your money’s worth. you have to spend ages and ages comparison-shopping and reading reviews about how quality has really gone downhill since production moved to [new country]. often — especially with clothes — the thing that your money is actually paying for is Style, as separate from Substance. or good advertising. i’ve been halfheartedly in the market for a decent couch for some time, and i’ve noticed that nearly every apartment makeover video on youtube is sponsored by the same furniture website, which of course has provided a free couch — that the youtuber assures us is Really Good, For The Price. as soon as a manufacturer acquires a reputation for Quality, it is in their economic interest to sell out as hard and fast as they can and pocket the increased margin from selling crap at the price of quality until people notice. and in a world where most shopping has moved online, it’s difficult to tell whether you’re still in the actual-quality period. i’m not sure if there even *are* furniture stores around here at quality levels in between ikea and danish concepts (suggesting a market for a mid-tier scandinavian furniture purveyor, perhaps hailing from norway or finland).

because of the sort of person that i am, i tire rapidly of the endless comparison shopping. i don’t want to become a damn couch supply chain expert, i just want to retire the folding chair from my living room. it can’t be *that* hard to build a couch, can it? well, not if one is privileged enough to have the tools and time and space to do it in. i think most of the comments and tags on the fast fashion post are from people wishing they had one or more of the above to make their own clothes with. speaking from direct personal experience, a sewing machine is at least both cheaper and easier to find space for than a minimally equipped woodshop.

the other common piece of advice is to buy used, buy from a thrift store or an estate sale. unfortunately hunting down all your shit used also takes a lot of time and effort, and particularly in the case of furniture hauling the stuff home is a nontrivial logistical problem. again, money or more nebulous forms of privilege (the friend with the truck) are needed to smooth these roadblocks. and it’s really amazing that the solution to “i want an item that is not garbage” is “buy an item manufactured at a time when they were not yet garbage”. yes, of course, the less-durable instances won’t have survived the passage of time, but that’s only part of the effect. things genuinely used to be manufactured to a higher standard of quality. my sewing machine is from ebay; it’s the same model my *other* grandma had, a baseline singer consumer-grade machine. all its gears are metal, and it has a heavy-ass cast metal housing, too. the other household sewing machine is a modern singer consumer-grade machine and for all its fancy stitches it looks sort of like a doll’s toy — the plastic gears are going to break at some point, or the motor will burn out, and if it turns out that the motor on the modern edition is designed to be user-replaceable i will personally eat a hat. i suppose we also used to ask a lot more of our consumer-grade sewing machines, back when sewing one’s own clothes was a baseline household skill for everyone but Rich People, instead of a hobby that consumes more money than it saves you.

i don’t know if my post really has a conclusion. i’m just angry that we live in a fallen world full of miraculous technology and yet we have not solved the seemingly simple economic problem of exchanging a reasonable amount of money for a newly produced durable good that isn’t a complete piece of shit. i am a *robotics engineer*, for the love of fuck; i have a complicated, rare, well-compensated skillset. it cannot *possibly* be a comparative advantage for me to spend my time building a couch or sewing a shirt instead of paying someone to do it for me (ideally also, if i may ask for a miracle, someone who gets things like fair pay and healthcare and vacation time). why is this transaction so damn hard??

[atom-writings]

hello! how would netherlands, luxembourg and russia like to spend their honeymoon with their s/o? or, what would the wedding look like?

hetalia netherlands, luxembourg, and russia wedding / honeymoon headcanons

0.6k words ~ gender neutral headcanons

tw: none!

a/n: guys im trying to get back on schedule :sob: i have asks from almost a year im so sorry

Netherlands

When it comes to Abel, neither his wedding nor honeymoon would be big.

For the wedding, there’s no more than, like, 5 people invited. He would’ve preferred a sudden in-and-out wedding if it weren’t for how public it was, regardless of how un-romantic it is for you.

Instead, you can invite people if you want, and you’ll be having a quick, private ceremony in the woods. Probably only with nothing, except like, 2 chairs for “an emergency” (He won’t elaborate on that.)

He also wouldn’t dress up either way, unless it were vitally important to you. He wants to be as true to who he is when he vows to be with you for as long as you live, and he is not a tuxedo guy.

Weirdly enough, it’s how much he cares about the wedding that makes him so weird about it. It’s very important to him, and that means everything has to be as authentic and intimate as possible. So, that means a weird awkward wedding.

Of course, that’s just if he gets his way. But he’s surprisingly lenient with his S/O with most things (as long as it’s not too expensive.)

For future reference, he is most susceptible to puppy dog eyes and “pretty please.”

As for the honeymoon, there’s no way he’s putting any effort into it. You can plan it, but he’s not paying and he’s not helping you guys get there. His ideal honeymoon is a night in and watching a movie he pirated, but whatever you want is fine too.

What he wants to do though is a lot of cliche boring stuff, like going sightseeing, hiking, and visiting museums. Notice how all of it is free? That’s the main idea here. Although, he does love camping regardless of how cheap it ends up being. Lets him show you how much of a man he is <3

He’s not travelling though. Leaving the country is out of the question. The important part already happened, why are you making such a big deal out of it?!

Luxembourg

The exact opposite. Laurent is renting out a significant chunk of his capital city to throw the biggest, most extravagant, most expensive modern wedding in the world! He may be a busy man, but he’s always willing to put away plenty of time for his beloved.

If you like planning events, you two will work together for many months making sure everything is perfect. But if you don’t, he’ll take it all on himself to ensure everything goes perfectly.

But with that, he’ll become really stressed. He wouldn’t snap at you (because after all, it is all for you,) but he’s no fun when he’s that worked up. It’s better if you help.

Especially since he wants your wedding to have great symbolic meaning. Having it represent the shared vision of your future together is his first- well… second priority.

The honeymoon afterwards would be much the same, although he also wouldn’t want to travel too far. Once the spectacle is over, he just appreciates the excuse to do nothing but spend time with you without any pressure.

Preferably trying a bunch of new food, going shopping, and going to stereotypical couple-y activities, like dance classes.

He may seem upbeat, but Laurent is surprisingly melancholic around the time of your wedding. For as excited as he is (which is very,) he can’t help but feel worried about how much time he’ll have with you.

But it shouldn’t get him down too much. He's still riding the high of seeing you in your wedding attire <3

Russia

Ivan would want a very, very, very traditional Russian wedding if you’d be fine with that. Unlike a lot of other nations, he’s never been married before, so he’s very stressed about getting to do every single thing he never got to before.

You’d swear he abandoned you for months before the wedding as he’s panickedly running around the country trying desperately to throw everything together. Half the ceremonies he wants to do haven’t been done for centuries, and he really doesn’t understand why he can’t have live cannon fire at his wedding!

Maybe just pat him on the head and tell him you’ll love him even if you can’t sacrifice 20 goats during the ceremony.

But once the stress (and awkwardness as all of his former friends are forced to attend,) is over, he’s whisking you away for a months-long vacation. Preferably somewhere bright and warm but really; he doesn’t care where you want to go, anywhere is alright, as long as it’s far away from everything you two have to worry about regularly.

His favourite things to do with you while on vacation are really stereotypical, like going to the beach, going to scenic locations, and falling into every tourist trap.

He tries to be as romantic as possible through all of that, but he can’t help being awkward and giddy after you two are finally married.

[argisthebulwark]

Fake Marriage Trope

summary: Short drabbles about a fake marriage with various skyrim favs. gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used. feat: Erandur, Arnbjorn, Brynjolf, Teldryn, Rune warnings: none

Erandur worries that being unmarried as a Priest of Mara is odd, what if it made others doubt his devotion? The two of you had become close after travelling together - choosing one another was easy, natural. Sharing a home gives you somewhere to rest after handling Skyrim's many problems and Erandur gains a spouse to gush about to Mara's followers. It's a win-win. After spending time posing as your husband he'll realize that it isn't as much of a lie as he originally thought - he truly does care for you, loves when you spent time relaxing at home or dozing off on his shoulder. He would likely stumble over his words trying to explain how he caught feelings for his own spouse.

After aiding in the rebuilding of the Brotherhood, you have garnered quite the friendship with Arnbjorn. Surprisingly, your joint efforts have caught the eye of potential new clients. Meeting with a group of powerful nobles in a bid for a massive contract one mentions offhandedly that they take comfort in your dedication, citing the leader's marriage to a fellow assassin. Clearly you care for your Guild, it makes you appear quite trustworthy! Forging a deal with Arnbjorn you both agree to continue the farce, allowing them to believe you're married. It brings in money, gets you better jobs, some stability - and all it takes is pretending to be in love. He would take notice when you began wearing the cheap wedding band even on rest days, or referring to him as your husband in casual conversation.

Stealing from rich people is fun. Stealing from rich people with Brynjolf is very fun. Dressing up together, attending some fancy party with fake names and a hasty backstory. You can't help it if your heart flutters when he dutifully places an arm around you or your sudden urge to kiss him when he spins you around the dance floor. It's difficult to remind yourselves that it's just a game, a cover to gather as many septims as you can carry back to Riften. Hearing Brynjolf introduced as your husband only makes matters worse, your cheeks heating until you're sure the cover is blown. With pockets stuffed and fancy wine clouding your mind it's easy to pretend that Brynjolf truly is your husband, that the way he gazes into your eyes is more than an act.

Teldryn has been hired dozens of times - as a mercenary, a sellsword, a guide. When a returning client hires him at triple the agreed upon rate he assumes you're taking him somewhere dangerous. You are - your familial home. As the only unmarried sibling in the bunch you often find yourself the target of all extended family members and their intrusive questions. After explaining it to him you get nothing but a dry laugh and a promise to do his best. He takes to the role of doting partner quite well - answering questions about how you met and entertaining family with stories of your travels together. Near the end of your trip you find that neither of you want the ruse to come to an end.

Rune wants a family. People to visit on holidays and tell his coworkers stories about. You want a partner to bring home to your family so they'll ask about something other than your shady line of work. What a good deal! When you find yourself seeking him for comfort after a rough day you pay it no mind. You're friends, after all. The marriage is only for show. The same rule applies when Rune holds you a bit closer than necessary or introduces you to new recruits as his partner - you have to sell the act, right? Can't have anyone exposing your lies. Tamping down on the worry that something more is brewing isn't easy but you try. It's difficult to remind yourself that it's all a show when he places a hand on your thigh or finishes a story your sibling's told him before. Falling for him is too easy.

[the-phantom-author]

Hasan Piker | 9-5!gf

Is this a rewrite of three asks? Yes. Did I more to it? Also yes.

Request are open. Reblogs always welcome.

Y’all meet completely accident. It was in an elevator that got stuck for an hour. You were visiting a friend, who just got a promotion, and he was in New York for a friends wedding.

The elevator got stuck for an hour, honestly neither of you talked to each other for the first five or so minutes but it was a bit awkward being in that close of a space with another without interacting, so he asked about what you were doing first. As you spent time in that elevator you realized how easily conversation came between the two of you, and when you found out that both of you live around the L.A. area, you exchanged numbers.

At first hasan was a bit worried that he wouldn’t be able to spend enough time with you, given how much he works and what he does for work, but it didn’t take him long until he found out that you’re just as much of a work horse as he is.

As much as both of you are busy, you both start your day at the same time, your morning routine and breakfast are always reliable times for the two of you to spend together. He’ll wake up at around 6-6:30am and go out for his morning workout, come back with coffee for you and wakes you up. Morning shower/bath, going through doing your makeup, doing your hair, and getting dressed to then make breakfast.

You get off of work about two hours before he does. While the last bit of his stream is usually more fun content, you don’t get that same liberty with your job, so the two hours you get when you come home and Hasan is still streaming, you take that time to relax. Take your hair down, get into comfy clothes, make tea, read a book, whatever you need to do to get yourself out of the work head space that you get into. Even if he has calls to make or research to do, the camera's off and your able to exist together without judgment from chat.

Speaking of chat, when your on stream chat honestly adores you. At first it’s very “This is my friend y/n, she works a normal 9-5 and is bullying me into ending stream so we can hang out later.” and you start showing up as “Hasan’s normy friend”. Chat likes so much because you are so normal, unlike some of his other guests who are streamers, lawyers, journalists, and other political figures, you’re just you. You wake up and go to an office to work for 8 hours and come home, in a very similar manner as to what they do.

Chat likes to ask Hasan about you a lot. You don’t use social media, at all really, so all information they get about you is from his stream. Que chat asking if you have a boyfriend, and hasan always having to be like “She’s dating someone chat, stop asking about it”. When you’re on stream and talking about the fact you have a boyfriend with hasan right next to you, you pick on all the time.

“Yeah, I have a boyfriend, but he is annoying sometimes☺️” “WHAT DO YOU MEAN”

“He also snores super loudly.”

He’s trying to get you to take what you said back while trying to sound as detached from it as possible as to not implicate him being said boyfriend.

He fails of course, you bring him his lunch or a snack one day and as he takes it he slips up and says something like “I’m so lucky i’m marrying you”. The moment that he accidentally spills the fact that your secret boyfriend is him, it's over. Chat will not let him move in for the life of the stream. It's officially The Integration Of Hasan on stream.

Chat has soooo much respect for you. From the times that it’s just hasan telling them you’ve had a really busy week at work and won’t be on stream to the ties you walk in, still in your work clothes. You provide very practical advice while on stream as well. Talking about what to expect in the workforce, how to find jobs out of college, what kind of clothes are workplace appropriate, where you can get these clothes for cheap, what to look for in an apartment and roommates, how to keep friendships alive, ect ect. They also get the office gossip from you.

TLDR; the relationship dynamic is very "She keeps me sane and grounded and in return I keep her sane and grounded." I imagine him talking about you this way a lot. X (47:20-48:10)

[munson-blurbs]

When Man Plans, God Laughs (Eddie Munson x Single Mom!Reader)

Summary: You're a single mom of two who recently moved back to your hometown of Hawkins, Indiana, after a nasty divorce. When your friends take you out for the night, you run into your high school crush: Eddie Munson. But are either of you satisfied with just a one-night stand?

This will be a multi-part series! Let me know what you think!

Warnings: single motherhood, divorce, smut (18+ only minors DNI), oral sex (m receiving), fingering (f receiving)

WC: 2.7k

Part One

You know the saying, "When man plans, God laughs"? That was the theme of your life.

Getting pregnant two months before your college graduation? Not part of your plan.

Marrying your boyfriend of only a year while wearing a maternity wedding dress? Not part of your plan

Balancing a new career and motherhood? Not part of your plan.

Getting pregnant again because your then-husband insisted that your daughter needed to grow up with a sibling? Not part of your plan.

And moving back in with your parents in Hawkins, Indiana after your alleged soulmate up and left you for a perky 19-year-old? Definitely not part of your plan.

You hate asking for help; it was a struggle for your mom to convince you to come home. But after having the water shut off in your apartment, you'd caved, packed up your stuff, and drove back to the tiny town.

The doorbell rings; it's probably Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley, picking you up to go to the Hideout. The dingy bar had been a staple of yours during high school due to their inclination to serve alcohol to minors. You'd initially turned down their offer for a night out, so they'd pushed you away and told your parents that they were going to abduct you and force you to have fun.

Before you can open the door, your daughter's fingers twist around the knob and yank it open.

"Gracie!" you scold. "Baby, you can't just open the door for strangers."

Grace rolls her eyes, a habit she's already picked up from you at just five years old. "I saw Aunt Robin and Uncle Steve from the window. They're not strangers!"

You exhale slowly, smoothing down the skirt that fell a few inches above your knees. You haven't dressed like this since, well, the night Grace was conceived.

Matthew is, as always, trailing behind his big sister. His blue eyes widen when he sees who's at the door. "Uncle Steeeeb! Aunt Wobin!" he shrieks. Robin scoops him up in her arms, squeezing him into a hug. You and her had been close in high school, and you'd picked right back up where you'd left off when you moved back a few months ago. The only major surprise was that she had befriended Steve Harrington, but he was starting to grow on you, too.

"Are you playing with us tonight?" Grace asks them, nearly pleading.

Steve shakes his head with a laugh. "Sorry, kiddo. We're takin' Mommy out for a night on the town." He squints at your daughter's frown. "Next time, okay? I'll even play Barbies with ya."

This seems to appease her until she processes that you won't be playing with her, either. "Mommy, don't go!" she whines, throwing her little arms around her waist. Matthew mimics her, tightly hugging your thigh.

You're so close to giving in, ready to change into cozy pajamas and watch Elmo for the umpteenth time, but your mom swoops in and untangles your babies from your body.

"Mommy will be home when you wake up," she tells them gently. "Speaking of which, it's almost bedtime! Who's gonna get in their jammies the fastest?" She gives you a wink and whispers, "Have fun, but not too much fun. As much as I love these guys, I can't handle another one right now."

Your cheeks redden as your friends pull you out the door. Having another kid is the last thing on your mind.

~

You wrinkle your nose as you enter the bar. It reeks of sweat, cheap beer, and stale weed. "Why are we here, again? We can drink legally now. Go to any bar you want." The soles of your heeled shoes stick to the floor.

"Our friend's band plays here," Steve shrugs. "D'you remember Eddie Munson, from high school? Long, frizzy hair; ran Hellfire Club; loved to give a rousing cafeteria speech?"

You think back to the days when you roamed the halls of Hawkins High, desperate to leave it behind for college in a big city. You hadn't had many classes with Eddie, considering you took honors courses, but you vaguely remember seeing him during PE and lunch. "I think so," you reply finally.

"It's his band--Corroded Coffin," Steve explains, taking a sip of a lukewarm beer. "They used to just play on Tuesdays, but now they do Fridays, too."

"Hey, Y/N," Robin pipes up, snickering. "Remember when you had a crush on him?"

"W-what?" you sputter, making Robin laugh harder.

"Yeah," she says between giggles, "our freshman year, his junior year. You were taking some music class with him and were in love for, like, a month."

"I forgot about that!" You played the piano and Eddie played the guitar--still does, apparently. When you two had been paired up for a project in your music composition class, you were immediately enamored by his passion for songwriting. The obsession had swiftly faded when he didn't turn in his part of the project, claiming he was too busy with real music for his real career, and earning you both a C. Still, you never stopped thinking he was incredibly attractive, even if he was a total slacker.

Steve exchanges a knowing glance with Robin. You're about to question what it means, but your chance is cut off when Corroded Coffin takes the stage. Eddie is front and center, instantly catching your eye. His hair is wild, curls everywhere. His ripped jeans cling to his legs, and a denim vest frames his torso. He's not wearing a shirt underneath, allowing his myriad tattoos to be visible. You feel a flutter in your lower belly that you haven't allowed yourself to feel in ages.

No, you tell yourself, you're a mom now. Moms don't hook up with their high school crushes while they're struggling to get their life together.

You try and focus on the music, all-too aware of the thoughts echoing in your mind.

~

Robin and Steve head backstage after the show, bringing you with them.

"It's getting late!" you protest, but they ignore you and insist that it'll be a good time. You roll your eyes but oblige.

"Buckley! Harrington!" Eddie calls out, pulling them in for sweaty hugs. "You made it!" He opens a black tin box and pulls out a joint, lighting it up and taking a hit. You can't help but notice an assortment of bottles and containers inside as well.

"We did," Steve agrees with a laugh. "And we brought a friend. This is Y/N." He nudges you forward. Eddie's eyes take you in hungrily, eyes conspicuously scanning your body.

"We, um, worked on that music comp project together," you manage, purposely omitting his lack of participation.

He snaps his fingers, bouncing slightly with excitement. "I knew you looked familiar!" he says excitedly. "These two told me you'd moved back, but I had no idea..." He pauses, cocking his head slightly.

"What?" you ask. Did you have something in your teeth? Sweat stains from dancing all night?

"Nah, 's just," he ducks his head, running his tongue over his lower lip. "I remember you bein' cute, but now you're, uh..." He glances down at your short skirt.

"Hot?" Robin fills in. "Gorgeous? Still totally out of your league?" You shoot her a glare, and Eddie takes the opportunity to send Steve a silent plea for privacy.

Steve grabs Robin's elbow. "I think I dropped my keys in the bar," he mutters through gritted teeth. "Help me find them?"

"Wha--oh," she starts, quickly getting the message. "Sure, yeah." She turns to you. "We'll be...right there if you need us."

And then they're gone.

"Wow, they were really subtle," you joke, easing the tension.

Eddie laughs, and it's such a sweet sound that you smile even wider. He flops down onto a beat-up couch, more foam than leather at this point, and pats his lap.

"Tell me what you've been up to since high school, sweetheart."

You gulp, trying to think about anything besides getting married, giving birth twice, and getting divorced. Remembering the way Eddie drank you in with his eyes, you decide to use it to your advantage.

"Do you really wanna talk?" There's a sultry note in your tone as you saunter over to him.

He cocks an eyebrow, manspreading slightly. "Thought I'd try to be a gentleman."

You just shake your head, climbing on the couch so you're straddling his thigh. "I'm kinda on a tight schedule here." It's not a lie; your mom didn't tell you to be home at a certain time, but you still needed to be awake enough to take care of Grace and Matthew tomorrow.

Eddie exhales as you press slow, precise kisses along his jawline. His hands roam your lower back, shifting you even closer to him. "You look like a fucking rockstar tonight," you whisper into his ear.

He smiles mischievously. "And you look like you're fucking a rockstar tonight." The spaghetti straps of your top graze your upper arms as he nudges them down with his thumbs. He sucks bruises into your collarbones, making you shiver.

"You good?" he asks teasingly, and you nod with enthusiasm. It's not enough for him. "Gotta use your words for me, baby."

"I'm good," you confirm. You place your hands around his neck and pull him in for a long kiss. "Really...really...good." You moan into his mouth. It's the truth; it feels incredible to be wanted, to be desired like this. A one-night stand is exactly what you need. Just a moment of passion without the drag of dating.

"Can you feel how bad I want you?" Eddie growls, bringing your hand to the seam of his pants. His erection presses against them, and he lets out a soft moan when you unbutton his jeans and let down his fly. "Right there." The man is practically whimpering at your touch.

"Eddie," you pant, grinding on his muscular thigh, "g-grab a condom."

He freezes, and you feel his confidence deflate. "Fuck," he hisses, biting his lower lip in frustration. "I can--I can pull out. I'm clean; I promise." As tempting as it is, as much as you want to quell the throbbing between your legs, you can't risk it. Your last "I can pull out" resulted in pregnancy.

"N-no, Eddie," you say reluctantly. "But I can still help you with that," you offer, getting on your knees between his legs. It actually worked out better this way; he wouldn't be able to see the stretch marked that marred your stomach, thighs, and breasts from carrying two babies.

You pull him out of his boxers, leaky cock in your hand. You smear his precum over the head, and you swear his eyes roll to the back of his head. He threads his fingers into your hair but doesn't push you down; just waits until you bring your lips around him, dragging your tongue along his shaft.

"Feels s'good, pretty girl," he whines, throwing his head back. A sense of pride surges through your body as you suck harder, fingers gliding around the base where your mouth can't reach. His cock twitches, and you know he's about to cum. You're prepared to swallow him, but he pulls himself out and spills onto his bare stomach with a few pumps of his own fist.

"You didn't have to--I would've--" you stammer, but he just shakes his head and reaches for a towel to clean himself up.

"Trust me, baby," Eddie purrs, "you did more than enough." He leans over for a kiss, slipping his fingers into your panties. "Now let me return the favor." You whimper when he moves his hand away, but he whisks you over to an old makeup table. He hoists you atop it, sitting you on the edge, and pushes your skirt up until your lace thong is fully on display.

"Touch me, please," you beg him, and he obliges, rubbing his thumb expertly over your clit. The small circles elicit the most guttural moans you've ever made. You'd be embarrassed if you weren't so entranced.

He slips his thick middle finger into you and your walls immediately clench around him. "So tight f'me, aren't you?" he chides, and you feel another finger inside you. He pumps them, quickening his pace as you get wetter around him.

"Harder, Eddie, more." His eyes widen at your need.

"Sure you don't want my cock?" he asks, only half-joking.

You shake your head. "I-I do, but I..."

"No worries," he interrupts, fingers still inside you, "I'll bring protection next time."

Next time? What did he think this was? You don't get to think further on this before your orgasm overtakes you, Eddie's name spilling from your lips as he helps you finish and brings you down from your high.

"I, um, I gotta go," you sputter, adjusting your panties and skirt and pushing yourself off of the table. "This was...you were amazing, really amazing."

"You don't wanna stay?" He looks confused and disheveled, nothing like the cocky musician that commanded the stage just twenty minutes prior. "I never finished that joint...we could split it, if you want?"

There's no way you're going home reeking of weed, so you politely decline. "I'll see you around," you tell him, an empty promise, kissing his cheek lightly.

You leave him to join your friends, who are frothing at the mouth for the gossip. Eddie stands there, puzzled and overwhelmed. He'd promised himself he'd start to settle down, that he would stop leaning on lustful urges and actually try to find love. And he'd screwed it up again.

~

Robin's phone rings at 9 AM the next day. "Hello?" she answers, munching on some cereal.

"Buckley," Eddie's voice, hoarse from his performance last night, comes through the phone. "You have that fancy three-way call thing, right? Can you add Harrington?"

"Sure thing, Casanova," she teases. "Heard you and Y/N had a great time backstage."

Eddie sighs. "Kinda what I wanted to talk to you guys about." He runs his fingers through his hair, reminiscing on his brief moment with you. The way your eyes sparkled, the way your body rested in his lap, the way he felt when you kissed him.

"Hello?" Steve gets on the line.

"It's me and Eddie," Robin speaks first. "He wants to talk to us about Y/N."

"Oh, Christ," Steve groans. "We already got all the details, Munson. You don't need to brag."

"No, no," Eddie reassures him. "I just wanted to ask for her number. She ran off last night before I could get it."

There's a pause before Robin talks. "Why do you want her number?"

"Uh, so I can ask her on a date?" More silence; it's so palpable that Eddie's worried that his friends hung up. "Still there?"

"Y-yeah," says Steve. "I'm trying to wrap my head around this. Never pictured you dating someone with kids."

"Steve!" Robin chastises him, but the damage is done.

"Y/N has a kid?" Eddie's jaw hits the floor. He really is in over his head.

"Two, actually," Steve relents. "And she's going through a divorce. So I don't think this is the best idea, Munson. Maybe just leave this as a one-time thing."

"But I don't--" Eddie throws his free hand in the air. "All you two did was talk her up, tell me how awesome and sweet and smart she is, and then you tell me that I can't be with her?"

Robin lets out an exasperated breath. "We thought you two could hook up, especially since she had a crush on you in high school--"

"She what?"

"But we didn't expect you to, like, fall for her," she barrels past the crucial detail she just dropped.

"Well, I did. I fuckin' did." Eddie's voice raises slightly. "And Y/N's an adult; she can decide whether or not we try something more serious. So just please give me her number."

"Fine," grumbles Robin. "But don't come crying to us if she breaks your heart."

"And don't break hers," warns Steve; Eddie recognizes the seriousness in his tone.

"I won't," Eddie promises. He half-listens as Robin babbles on about something.

I'm gonna figure this out, he thinks. But it wasn't just about winning you over; no, it was beyond that. It was about becoming the man, a man, that he'd always been too afraid to be.

--

[aheathen-conceivably]

🎶 This city’s dying by the day, and you know it always will 🎶

Antoine kept his head dipped and his face hidden as he neared the spot where Giorgio had asked him to meet. The secrecy in Gio’s note had been absurd: Meet me at the docks facing the cathedral at eight. And come alone. As he approached, the rhythmic ringing of the church bells told him that he was just on time.

Antoine’s steps crossed from the cracked pavers onto the wooden dock, the hollow sound alerting Giorgio to his presence. He jumped to his feet and nervously took a drag off his cigarette, smoothing down his hair behind each ear. Antoine rounded the crates that he was hidden behind and narrowed his eyes, “Christ, Gio, what’s going on? What’s with all this fanfare and secrecy?”

“Antoine, thank god. To tell you the truth, it’s Jo. She never takes my ideas seriously and I’m sure she’d tell me I’m operating on false information. Plus I don’t want to create a stir, tip off my contacts that I’m sharing this information with anyone on the outside. Sit, please. I think you might need to.”

Giorgio sat back onto the crate next to Antoine, looking over each shoulder before he began, “I’ve got cousins, Antoine, cousins with real business interests up in New York. There’s serious talk that this whole bubble we’ve been riding, it can’t last forever, and the whole economy is gunna tank.”

Antoine shook his head in disbelief, but Gio went on, “I’m telling you, it’s true! Some of them are already pulling out stocks. Your sister will think I’m just as crazy, but I sure as hell don’t wanna be in any city when shit hits the fan. Especially this city. You see, I know I said one job, but once they get their teeth into you, once they know where you are, they don’t let you stop…”

Gio stopped for a moment to let the implication of he and Antoine’s entanglement with the city’s mafia dissipate in the twilight air, “Now I’ve heard talk of riches out west. Railroads or highways being built right through your property and being paid in handfuls. Plus land is cheap, real cheap. I found a plot through some connections with the farm house built. I’ve still got that money from the deal we made, so I can purchase it myself, but if you’re holding onto that cash we can split it equal, go in as co-owners.”

Gio’s proposal made Antoine’s head spin. Leave his home? To go West, of all places? What the hell did he know about the West? About a land he had only heard tales and hyperboles of, a land that seemed unreal, one that still seemed to promise some semblance of the American Dream…

As Antoine tried to focus, to force himself see his choices clearly, a series of images flashed through his head in immediate succession.

First, he saw himself atop a horse, the sun beating down on his his face as the arid breeze whistled through the brush and the blue sky blended into the yellow of the mountaintops. Around him was nothing but land: vast, empty expanses of land without a single rule or expectation to impose upon him.

Then he saw Zelda in a tiny chapel, bedecked in a white wedding dress and her finest pearls. She had a wide smile on her face and a delicate hand extended toward him, beckoning him to the altar at the end of the aisle. Through the windows the desert sun streamed in around them, finally free to walk in the streets however they pleased, finally married, finally his wife…

But with almost an almost visceral sense of vertigo he was transported back to New Orleans, back to the club with Violette, who was now grown as she sang along to the notes he played on the piano he had owned all his life. Her laughter told him that she had always loved it there, just as much as he did, and she would only grow to love it more, to be just as inspired and connected to the only home he had ever known.

Finally, his mind drifted back to Zelda, this time in their kitchen cooking a recipe that his aunt had taught him. He stood behind her in the same place where they had some of their happiest memories, their most intimate moments.

As he pulled her closer to him, he could hear people yelling in French through the doors open to the street below. Their accents sounded just like his own, just like his mother and his aunt, perhaps just like his daughter’s would one day. The sound of their voices drifted into the kitchen, mingling with the scents of cooking and the feeling of Zelda in his arms, telling him that he was already home.

In the seemingly suspended year of 1928, Antoine buried his head in his hands. None of the visions or the dreams mattered anyway; the choice had already been made. The money was gone, long gone. He had spent it paying bills for the club and buying food for his family, just trying to keep the club afloat while the bribes grew larger by the month.

Antoine finally looked back to Gio, making sure the tears in his eyes had dried enough so that they wouldn’t betray his words, “I’m sorry Gio, but it sounds like nothing but a pipe dream to me. Why would I leave when there’s nothing to go on but your word? I’ve got the club, my family, my city; I won’t throw that all away for a rumor.”

Giorgio visibly flinched, as though Antoine’s words had come directly from Josephine herself. Then he swallowed the dismissal, knowing that it was only a taste of what waited for him at home. He shrugged his shoulders and looked back out over the Mississippi River, “Suit yourself then, old sport. I hope it doesn’t come to all this, but I have a feeling it might.”