#father of the bride speech

[antvnger]

((This is really interesting, Anon. And I’m sorry this is late. This is definitely one for the books because I had to Google what makes a good father of the bride speech.))

((Check it out below. Hope you enjoy it. Scott cried writing this by the way 😉))

Scott takes a breath before he stands and takes the mic. He pulls some cue cards from his tux pocket, clears his throat, and begins.

“Hi, everyone. It’s good to have you all here. Thanks for coming on this very special day. When I Googled how to write a good father of the bride speech, one of the first things it listed was to introduce yourself. But considering how I’m an Avenger, I wrote a book, and became famous for quite a few awesome heists…” He gives the audience a bit of a cocky look before he tosses the first cue card away, and the audience laughs.

“But seriously, thank you all for joining us and celebrating with us on this pretty awesome day. It’s a day that every dad simultaneously looks forward to and dreads. There’s a lot of pride - so much pride - and a lot of bittersweetness too. But ultimately, there’s a lot of love here today. It’s just bubbling over everywhere. That’s what we’re celebrating, right? Love and life and new chapters. And we’re especially celebrating Cassie and [Significant Other] and the commitment they’ve made - excuse me, are making - to each other.

“The first time Cassie brought [S.O] home to meet me, I saw the look in her eye and thought there was something different this time. [S.O] definitely is different from all the rest and in the best way possible. They’ve proven they can handle all sides and depths of Cassie. Fun Cassie, work Cassie, sad Cassie, happy Cassie, frustrated and stressed Cassie, angry—you get the idea. They can also handle Avenger Cassie, and that’s a big deal too. Not only can they handle it, they want to handle it. They want to be by her side for the whole ride, and I gotta say no one deserves my kid…but [S.O] comes pretty damn close.

“Now the next part Google suggested was of course to talk about the bride, but that’s really dangerous because even with my ADHD I could go on for hours and not tire of talking about her.” The audience chuckles softly with some aaaws thrown in. “But lucky for you I’ve got a time limit.” The chuckles increase for a bit at that. “Ultimately though, she’s my kid. My kid. My pride and joy. My reason for doing so much in my life. The only thing in my life that never ever was or will be a mistake. A bright shining star in my sky. Now, I know it all sounds kinda cheesy, but the thing is it’s true. Cassie is all of that to me and so much more than I could shove into a five-ish minute speech. She’s my Peanut. And for those who know me, you know just how much love and joy and pride…” He pauses. He can’t help it. The lump in his throat forces him to pause. It’s not the first time he’s gotten choked up today. “I give to the person behind the nickname.” He turns to look at Cassie who’s tearing up again as well. “I love you, Peanut. Always have. Always will.” There’s many in the audience tearing up too.

Scott clears his throat and wipes his eyes. “I’m almost done, I promise,” he says quietly, and the audience chuckles, needing the gentle reprieve from the tears. “Lastly, Cassie and [S.O], some advice. Believe me, guys, learn from me, okay? Never stop dating each other. Never stop being friends and keeping that part of your relationship strong. It’s a foundation for a lot of aspects of marriage, and good foundations lead to strong structures. Talk to each other. Communicate, even when you don’t want to. It’s okay to get pissed off with each other. Just be careful what you do when you’re pissed. Work together. Marriage isn’t always equal parts give and take; it’s supporting each other when one can only give 10% for a little while. It’s standing strong when the other just wants to crumble and cry. It’s putting the other before yourself and not really expecting anything back. But you will get it back because the other should put you before themselves too. And it’s okay to not have everything figured out. That’s why you’ve got all of us,” he gestures to the audience. “We’re your support group, and if you need some help or guidance neither of you can offer, we’ve got your back. And finally, choose to love each other every day. Love isn’t just a feeling; it’s a verb. An action. A choice. Sometimes you’ll look at each other and the feelings won’t be there; that’s okay it’s part of it. But choose to love each other anyway. The feelings will return stronger than ever.

“Cassie and [S.O], we’re all excited for you, and we’re all rooting for you. And we all love you.” Scott raises his glass in a toast, and the audience does the same. “To Cassie and [S.O]!” The audience exuberantly responds before they all take a drink. Then the audience claps and cheers over Scott’s speech, and the cheers only increase when Cassie gets up from her seat and hugs her dad tightly.

[cousinbanjo]

My speech at my daughter's wedding reception. Right before the video started, I said, "I'll try to keep this short ..."

[bueris]

oh what I just got demoted from father of the bride to best man what the hell

[blu3n]

JASON X FREADER

Established relationship : married, fluff/loving

TW : English is not my native language, it may be first person in Jason Peter Todd's speech.

Obs : open orders (Jason todd)

@blu3n : I do not allow under any circumstances to steal my story

🪼

Jason wouldn't be the type to get down on one knee to ask you to marry him or make a declaration of love, no, he's not even romantic.

but I believe he would be the type to show how much he loves you and when he is sure he wants to marry you he would do it, in his own way but he would do it

and speaking of marriage, I believe it would be like this.

how did you meet:

Wedding was the word Jason never thought he would think of in his entire life. The day he looked at you, your hair messy in the wind, your face shining in the sun, looking like you were arguing with someone on the phone, it made him turn his neck and stare at you. It was the strangest way to meet you.

Another time was when he was returning home after a tiring night of patrol... His eyes followed to the same place where he saw you, and there you were, only more dressed up, your wavy hair that seemed to be styled with curlers, your nails beautiful and your minimal makeup, just enough to leave anyone speechless.

The other times he saw you, he would gather up the courage and ask for directions. Yes, he knew Gotham like the back of his hand, but he wouldn't waste time getting to know you by pretending to be a new guy in town.

After that night, he was fully aware that it wouldn't be the first or the last time he would meet you. Jason found himself falling for you before he even realized it, even with the paranoia and PTSD episodes that accompanied it. Deep down, he knew you were different... He knew you weren't a bad person; that conviction resonated deep within him.

So, after years of building that wonderful bond—that warmth that everyone feels when they're truly in love—he finally decided to ask for your hand in marriage. After a period of dating that brought you even closer, this was a significant step for someone like him.

There you were, dressed in a stunning white gown, walking into the ceremony next to your father. The woman of his life, the woman he adored with every step she took... the woman he would give his life for.

The wedding was reminiscent of Dick and Barbara Gordon's, held in a beautiful beachfront location, with only close friends and family in attendance. He didn't want anything extravagant and was relieved to know that you preferred a simple celebration too.

That moment was so magical that he couldn't hold back the tears of joy that streamed down his face.

"Oh God, you gave me a goddess," he muttered to himself as he fought to keep more tears from falling.

"Go ahead, man," his older brother Dick's voice echoed in the background, accompanied by a gentle slap on his shoulder.

As he approached, he took her hand gently, afraid to squeeze it too hard and hurt that wonderful hand. I was shaking so hard I was sure you could feel it. "I love you. You look beautiful," he said, his voice full of adoration as he stood in front of you. "Thank you, you look great too," you replied, smiling brightly, barely able to hold back the tears of joy that streamed down your face.

After the priest's speech about the wedding, he asks the question to which you happily answer, accepting the wedding vows, for he was the love of your life.

"And you, Jason? Do you take (your name) to be your wife?"

Jason knew he had won the lottery; a woman like you was nowhere to be found. The depth of love he had received from you had made you his home... you had become a part of his flesh, a part of himself, and he would never let you go.

"Yes... I do," Jason said, his gaze never leaving yours for a second.

"Now you may kiss the bride—" Without waiting for the priest to finish, he leaned down and captured your lips, sealing the bond of marriage and declaring it officially in front of your friends and family.

He loves you.

[i-cant-sing]

I'm not sure what I want to write about but I have this very overwhelmingly strong urge to write about Platonic Yandere Gojo Saturo x teen/adult reader. And not like just light fluff, I'm talking about unhinged yandere Gojo- the one from the latest panels where he was fighting with Sukuna- that Gojo.

Like that Gojo just radiates "buffed up cool dad finally puts his foot down and is now actually low key scary".

Hmm, I mean I could see unhinged Shibuya arc Gojo just going absolutely feral as he drags you away from Toji (your dad) and begins to actively kill him, no matter how much you beg and grovel to spare your father's life. How you can't bare to see your dad taken from you again.

But Gojo? Nah, he doesn't care. He was serious when he took you in (kidnapped u from Naoya/Zenin Clan) and told u that he'll be the father you need.

And he doesn't even have any qualms about knocking you out either, he doesn't need u interfering mid battle and getting injured in the process. He might even hand u over to Yuta and others and cheerfully threaten them to keep you safe while he obliterates Toji, because yes Gojo is 100000% jealous of Toji and you bonding/being closer to each other than u are with Gojo. How fucing dare you??? Does he need to do the speech again?

"Through heavens and earth, I alone am tge honored one" or whatever 🙄🙄🙄

OR OR OR

Listen to me- Romantic yandere UNHINGED Gojo with reader who'd been selected by his clan, trained and raised by them for you to be Gojo's bride. Obviously, growing up Gojo was like "yeahhh, you're not good enough for me" and well treated her like absolute trash (he insulted her) which them lead the clan to be even more harsh on you because why the hell are you still not able to seduce Gojo????? So, basically poor reader is just being absolutely miserable throughout her life until one day the Gojo Clan is finally like "Alright, we gave it our best and Saturo still doesn't like u, so you can work as a maid in our house" and like instantaneously her life turns much better now that she doesn't have the pressure to be the trophy wife/heir producer for Gojo, and reader now can even leave the house to run errands.

But then Gojo notices that there is one less person who was constantly fawning over him, vying for his attention, and he's trying to figure it out who it is when he realises its you! And when he asks his clan about you, they tell him that they demoted u to a servant instead of future Mrs Gojo and Saturo is like "hm. Okay." And it doesn't exactly hit him how much this affected him until he saw you giggling away with some man.

He doesn't react immeadiately, still treating you like you're just nonexistent to him, but deep down, it eats him up the way you were touching that man's arm, the way you looked at him like he hung the stars for you.

Why tf weren't you like this with him?

Whatever. You're just... so beneath him. Why even bother thinking about you?

And then Shibuya arc happens. This man gets trapped in the prison realm and most of his thoughts are occupied by you, and how after be defeats Sukuna and the gang, he's gonna date you and you'll be touching his arm, looking at him with goo goo eyes.

Except when he comes out, for whatever fucking reason, you're fucking clinging onto some guys shoulders, acting like you're a damsel in distress, and if things weren't worse before, they certainly were when you kissed the man in front of him (okay but like u didn't know Gojo was watching u two. Like you were with your man in alley, kissing and hugging each ither lovingly after just barely escaping death from curses and then mf Gojo is just hovering in the sky above you)

Of course, now it's instantaneous death for your man, and then Gojo is just dragging you screaming and crying, and you're like "WHY? WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME??" And Gojo very cheerfully tells you, as if he still wasn't covered in blood from your man-

"I don't want my wife-to-be cheating on me."

Like whoa! Where tf did that came from???? And you're all like "What are u talking about??? Your clan ended our relationship- if you could even call it that?? Besides, you're the one who always said that we're not compatible because I'm beneath you."

And Gojo doesn't even bat an eye, as he goes "doesn't matter. You were born for me. You were made for me to marry, play with, discard, do as I please. So don't you ever even look at another man again, or I will be the one to rip your eyes out." And you know that he's capable of doing that after u just witnessed the live demonstration of your man being murdered.

Anyways, jealous Gojo, be it romantic or platonic, is dangerous unhinged Gojo.

Look at him, the tiny waist, the Toji Fushiguro fit.

[thesunfyre4446]

Did you catch one of the reasons why Rhaenyra didn’t believe her father changed his mind was “My father loved me” ah so she’s acknowledging once again that her father didn’t love his 4 other children?

It gave Driftmark “Thank you FATHER” all over again.

This overgrown ass woman has never seen those kids as anything but Alicent’s and they were treated by the whole Targaryen and by extension the Velaryon family- like outsiders.

Rhaenys’s little speech about “when it all began” doesn’t acknowledge that it had already began when their whole family decided to ice out a 15 year old girl who they knew was forced to marry the King. She wants to now talk about family and kinship but they weren’t treated as family because he didn’t choose their 12 year daughter to be his child bride. It already started with Rhaenyra and Daemon hating innocent literal infants and not accepting them into the family fold.

Alicent and Criston not caring for Rhaenyra’s sons are treated like a crime in this fandom whereas the treatment of the Green kids is widely seen as justifiable because of how they are as teens and young adults as if they weren’t just innocent babies and children before too and maybe if they had been treated like family then it what they’re going to do during the dance wouldn’t have been so easy for them.

I’m also really tired of the writers not acknowledging that Viserys was a horrible father to Aegon, Aemond, Helaena and Daeron . His unwillingness to to love them out of some loyalty to Aemma and Baelon, yet his willingness to keep making them is one of his if not his biggest flaw. Viserys is getting the treatment of a modern day celeb/politician who has done shitty things but died suddenly so people are now rewriting history. How do they go from Alicent telling Rhaenys that Viserys wasn’t fit to be King, it should’ve been her. From that moment in the script where she tells Otto that Viserys was a weak and his reign was forgettable and she didn’t want people to draw comparisons to Aegon and his father. To Alicent saying that Aegon is half the King is father was and Otto giving Viserys credit for his, Lionel’s, the small council and Alicent’s work?

How is Rhaenyra defending Viserys with her soul to Daemon as if she didn’t live a stones throw away from her dying father and didn’t give a fuck enough to visit him or tell him that she has had 2 more children until she needed a favor from him that sped up his death. As if he didn’t ruin her life by attempting to breed her Mother like cattle until she died?

gghgjghgjggjg the anons in my inbox are going off today!!!! not a single lie was told.

"Alicent and Criston not caring for Rhaenyra’s sons are treated like a crime in this fandom whereas the treatment of the Green kids is widely seen as justifiable" absolutely fucking this.

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

I'll come pick it up after, the end

John Egan X Female! Reader

Sumarry: It's finally their wedding day...

Warning: Historical inaccuracies/ full/ might not be accurate to real weeding speech in the 40s/ use of Y/n/

Word count: 1,2k

The day had finally come, their wedding day. She was nervous, but she was able to go to London to buy a wedding dress, with Daisy and Elodie. Her dress was simple, it stopped before her ankles and it had long sleeves. She didn’t want an extravagant wedding dress, they were getting married on the base, they weren’t Catholics, but the priest on the base was going to marry them, so it’ll be legit. She’d ask Crosby to walk her down the aisle, Buck was the best men, Elodie was the maid of honor and Meatball was going to carry the rings, with the two kids guiding him. Her hair was down, she didn’t have a veil, just a dress and heels.

He was nervous, but he was really happy. He was marring his girl. ‘’You ready for this?’’ Buck asked, coming in the room. ‘’Yeah, I’m nervous, but it’s my girl, I can’t wait to marry her’’ He sign. ‘’Let’s go its time.’’ Corporal says, as he enters the room. ‘’Thanks, Corporal’’ Bucky says. ‘’She’s a good girl, I’m happy for you, Major’’ he says. ‘’I appreciate it, Corporal, thank you.’’ They entered the room, soldiers were sat, some were still arriving. Nurses were there too, almost all the men and woman on the base were there. The priest was waiting for him at the altar. ‘’Who thought we would see Bucky tie the knot?’’ Lieutenant Dye said, even if he went home because he did 25 missions, he came back to see his friend get married. ‘’Yeah, well you did steal my previous girl, I had to find another one’’ he laughed. Right now, he couldn’t even think about Lil, the only woman that mattered to him was his future wife. When Bucky commented about their previous relationship, she bent her head down, ashamed. ‘’Don’t worry, Lil, he’s the better choice for you. I’m happy for your guys’’ He reassured her. Dye smiled to the groom and took the hand of his lady. Lil smiled and took a relived breath.

Once again, she was pacing around the room, Meatball following her with his head. Harry Crosby came in the room, smiling. ‘’Are you ready?’’ he asked. ‘’I feel like I’m going to throw up.’’ ‘’I know that feeling, but don’t worry I can recommend you to an amazing doctor’’ Crosby smiled, she laughed, it calmed her down a little. She didn’t even know why she was nervous, they both loved each other, but she was nervous. ‘’I’m really happy for you. You deserve happiness, Y/n, you both do.’’ They both hugged. ‘’You’re my best friend, Croz, thank you for everything you did for me’’ She whispered in his ear. ‘’Now, don’t make me cry.’’ They chuckled as Daisy came to get them. ‘’It’s time’’ she simply said.

When the band started to play music, Bucky’s heart stopped; she was coming. He turned around to look at his girl. She was magnificent, her dress was simple, but it was made for her. After all, they didn’t have much time to plan their wedding and their budget was small. Harry Crosby was walking her, he was grateful for him, he took care of her when he wasn’t there. When she saw him in his uniform, she started to smile like she never did before, she’d saw him in his uniform before, but he looks wonderful. When Harry and Y/n reached the groom, Crosby wanted to say something. Normally, her father would’ve give her to John, but Harry needed to say words to him. ‘’Take good care of her, just like she took care of you. Y/n smiled, hearing the word his best friend said to her future husband.

When Meatball came down the aisle, with the two boys, the soldiers chuckled. Everyone on the base knew that Y/n and Meatball came as a pair, they were together all the time. When she worked at the hospital, Meatball was there too, he made soldiers smile. The two boys handed the rings to the bride and groom. They recited the vow that the priest asked them too. It was beautiful, making them promise to each other that they will love the other, no matter what. It said that they would always be there for the other and stuff that made some people cry. When it was time for their personal vows, Y/n decided to go first. ‘’Bucky, my love, when I first met you, I thought you were going to be just another soldier that crossed my path. I was clearly wrong because, I’m now in a white dress in front of you. I did not just fell in love with you, I feel in love with your smile, your humor, your qualities and your flaws. I fell in love with each version of you, the one you show when you’re with your friends, the person you are when we are alone, the person that you’re too scared to show me, but did before you trusted me, and I also fell in love with the pilot version of you. Words aren’t enough to tell you how much you mean to me, but I’m so happy that Meatball came to me that day, so I could meet my soulmate’’ She cried, they were happy tears. Bucky was crying too, he didn’t care if some soldiers thought he was weak, that was the most beautiful thing he ever heard. ‘’My darling, my forever, I feel like the luckiest men on earth, because I get to be your husband. When things were rough, I think about you. Your smile, your laugh, your beautiful eyes and your voice. I’m not as talented with words as you are, but I can tell you this, it’s so hard for me to put our love into words, because I love you in ways, I have never loved anyone else, but I promise that I will spend the rest of my life, searching for them. I love you, my darling.’’ If the crowd didn’t cry to Y/n’s speech, they cried at Bucky’s. Even the priest was about to cry. ‘’ In the sight of God and these witnesses, I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may kiss the bride.’’

They didn’t have to be told twice, their kiss was full of love and passion. It celebrated their love and said all the words they couldn’t find. The crowd applauded and congratulated the newly weds. ‘’I love you Mrs. Egan’’ Bucky said, looking at his wife. ‘’I love you more, Mr. Egan’’ she smiled.

After the celebration, and almost 4 songs that Bucky insisted on singing, they both pack all their things. Because has a weeding gift, the Corporal gave Bucky the right to go home. After all, he was at 23 missions, he was close to 25. And Y/n made Elodie the chief nurse, because the Corporal also gave her the right to go home. They were going home, they both couldn’t believe it, but it was the case. A smaller plane, that was made for traveling, was waiting for them on the runway. The newly weds were going back home on the same plane as Lieutenant Dye. They hugged their friends, Y/n gave Buck and Croz the phone number at Bucky’s home. That’s where they would live until they could afford a home. When they boarded the plane, they were euphoric. ‘’Can you actually believe we’re going home?’’ Y/n whispered. He shook his head. ‘’The only thing I believe right now, is the fact that you’re my wife, and my ribs are healed’’ he chuckled. She giggled when the decide to steel his watch, putting it in her bra. ‘’Come and pick it up after the flight’’ she teased with a huge smile. It was the beginning of their life together, and they would savor each second, they had together, because they both knew how easily life can change. But it wasn’t on their mind right now. The only thing on Bucky’s mind, was to pick up his watch, just like he did the first time.

A/n: It's the end y'all!!! Thank you for reading this story. I already have more ideas, for other stuff. Love you all :)

[tenseoyong]

Hi can you do Aemond x betrothed reader at the dinner scene he’s jealous of jace and reader dancing?

Aemond would scarcely admit he hadn’t expected to become so quickly enamored by his sweet tongued, kind-eyed, gentle handed betrothal. Honestly speaking, Aemond had assumed his arranged marriage would follow a similar pattern as his parents’ and siblings’—loveless and constant avoidance—he was sure that the lovely Lady that had arrived at court would have little interest in the Scarred Prince beyond the gain of gold and the title of Princess.

Yet, Aemond was surprised to find a less than timid woman, one who did not shy away from his cold gaze, nor did she pity or fear his childhood maiming.

Yes, the Prince had grown rather fond of the unusual Lady. Often Aemond spend hours with her, hidden from prying eyes by the many shelves of books of the Keep’s library.

She listened to him attentively—not just keeping up appearances of a doting and obedient wife-to-be—no, she actually enjoyed Aemond’s company; hanging off his every word as he recounted his daily training, or when he told of the history of dragons, even dared to attempt to teach her a word or two in High Valyrian. In turn, she spun tales of her home, how her brothers bickered as children, and how she feared riding a horse just as one would fear facing a dragon.

Aemond would grow to love his Lady Wife—that much he was sure of—and he had dared to hope that she would return that love ten fold.

She had all but extinguished the dragon’s fire that lived in him.

Yet, the moment his darling nephew, Jacaerys, had stepped forward—folllowing his sweet sister Heleana’s speech of marital neglect—and requested she accompany him in dance, Aemond’s mind filled with vivid images of Jacaerys burned to a crisp, curtesy of Vhagar’s breath.

To see her, in the arms of his bastard nephew as she politely accepted his dance proposal, turned his stomach to stone.

Aemond believes he knew true anger. He’d spent a good portion of his childhood angry—angry at his father, and his nephews, and at his dragon-less status. Though, as violet eyes watched his Lady and Jacaerys is dance, Aemond knew then he’d never truly experienced anger—until this moment.

It burned inside him hotter than dragon’s fire, boiling his blood and scalding his heart.

And as his nephew spun his betrothed about the empty corner of the room, Aemond could bare to witness it no more.

The whole room came to a screeching halt as Aemond slammed his fist into the table as he rose to stand tall, and mockingly held his cup in the air, “I’d like to toast to my nephews—Jace, Luke…Joffrey—each of them handsome, wise, brave…” He paused, turning to stare directly at the hand Jace had placed to the small of his Lady’s back. “And Strong.”

Not to give up the game, Jace didn’t release his partner, only twirling the pair until Jace was between his uncle and his intended before demanding, “I dare you to say that again!”

“Why?” Aemond tsked, rounding the table and taking several calculated steps towards the stationary duo. “T’was only a compliment—I would extend my toast to my beloved betrothed, I shall pray to the Gods that they make our sons as Strong as their cousins.”

The fury was evident enough on young Jace’s face, all while the quiet satisfaction of getting under his skin flooded Aemond’s.

Though, the satisfaction didn’t last nearly as long as he’d hoped—for as soon as Jacaerys fixed Aemond with a mischievous look and devious smile, Jace reestablished his hold on his uncle’s bride-to-be, and taunted, “If only there were such a way to ensure your sons’ strength, perhaps I’ll be of some help, if the Lady wouldn’t mind me—“

All at once, Aemond closed what little space remained between him and the dancing pair, and curled his fingers into his nephew’s neck like a claw, snatching the younger boy up much like a kitten at its scruff, “You’ll remove your hands from my Wife.”

“You misspoke, Uncle.” Jacaerys smirked, ignoring Aemond’s seething rage. “The Lady is not yet your wife, is she? I believe that gives her leave to do as she pleases, while she can.”

“I care not for the beliefs of a bastard,” Aemond’s words dripped with venom. “She is to be my bride—since you are so keen on pretending to be of your status—you should be aware that you are greatly overstepping.”

Jacaerys only cocked an eyebrow—a silent challenge—before his fingers curled into your side and what little room between your bodies had been erased, “Oh? Have I overstepped—“

“You will remove your hand,” Aemond was through playing this game, he did break the eye contact he held with his nephew, yet he could still see the obvious annoyance and displeasure growing on your sweet face. Aemond’s hand fluttered above the dagger strapped at his hip. “Or I shall remove it for you.”

The threat lingered in the air momentarily before, much to anyone’s surprise, the Lady squirmed out of Jacaerys’ hold and took her rightful place at Aemond’s right and placed a gentle on Aemond’s tensed arm.

“My Love,” She all but cooed at the furious dragon she would soon claim as a husband. “Let us not ruin the single night your father has requested with his family—I am unharmed and unbothered—let us not have further bloodshed between kin.”

Aemond won’t not soon let go of his hatred for his bastard nephews, but as his Lady-to-be stood by his side and looked upon him with such care and affection Aemond would afford her this kindness.

He released his blade, and his grip on Jacaerys’ neck—though he paused a moment to admire the half-moon shaped nail marks he’d left in his stead—before collecting his betrothed and whisking them both from the disastrous dinner, desiring nothing more than to be hidden away with his Lady love where they belonged.

Soon after, as the servant folks spread tales of the exciting night—a song would emerge—that of a Lady, who had managed to tame the dragon.

[masterlist]

@moonchildrenandflowercrowns

[jazminrhode1]

STURNIOLO TRIPLETS

Chris Sturniolo

The Big Day (One Shot)

Free Throws (One Shot)

Egg Challenge (One Shot)

I Don't Want To Leave (One Shot)

What Went Wrong? (One Shot)

Better Late Than Never (One Shot)

Almost (Headcanons)

Relationship Status: Private (Headcanons)

The One That Got Away (Headcanons)

Matt Sturniolo

Forever be your always (One Shot)

The Interview (One Shot)

Superstar (Headcanons)

If I Can't Have You (One Shot)

I've Loved You My Whole Life (One Shot)

Hey Google, Play 'Begin Again'

I Don't Love You Anymore (One Shot)

They Call It Puppy Love (Headcanons)

How Does He Know Your Name? (One Shot)

Other Sturniolo

Father Of The Bride Speech (Triplets x Sister)

I Miss Them Too (Triplets x Older Sister, One Shot)

You Don't Like Dr Pepper? (Triplets x Reader, One Shot)

I Hate You, I Love You (Triplets x Little Sister, One Shot)

For The Love Of A Sister (Triplets x Little Sister, One Shot)

A Tour Surprise (Triplets x Reader, One Shot)

A Doctor's Office (Triplets x Reader, One Shot)

[moonydustx]

Hi!! Your writing is so good. I love it so much!!! Can i request a Five x female reader? Where the reader is smug and direct about her feelings? Thank you!! 🫶🫶🫶

Hi Hi! First, thank you for appreciating my work ❤️❤️

I tried my best to deliver and I apologize in advance if anything deviated from the proposal. I used Five from last season because his personality in these last few episodes is my favorite. Again, thanks for the request and i hope u like!

requests | the umbrella academy masterlist

What do you feel?

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x F!Reader

Warnings: fluffff, some things are a little out of canon, F!Reader is also someone with powers. She can feel others' feelings and make others feel hers through touch.

You still remembered the first time Five crossed your eyes at Temps Comisson. The neat jacket, the formal shorts and the almost arrogant posture for just a kid. At first, you hated him.

"A new friend for you." the manager introduced you to him and the two of you barely bothered to shake hands.

"Great, a newbie." Five replied, without much patience.

"I already have my suitcase, I don't need this new one." the cynicism in your tone was clear to both of them. When you saw the manager looking at you impatiently, you turned to him. "Let's follow the rules: don't get in my way, don't meddle in my choices and please don't expect me to save you if you're standing in the grave."

"I could say the same." Five replied, extending his hand to you. "Deal."

And a few years later, here you were. Cooped up in the family of what you could call your best friend, attending a wedding taking place under the lights of the end of the world.

"What do you think, huh? Apocalyptic weddings." Five whispered as the bride and groom entered.

"First I need to find someone who can handle it." your answer came out almost automatically and you just watched Five deny it, with a smile on his lips.

The ceremony was quick, totally the opposite of dinner. The two of you chose to sit at a table alone, taking in your surroundings. The happy couples, Ali and Viktor fighting, Ben being disturbed by Klaus.

"Can you feel what they think from here?" Five asked, filling his glass.

"Sex, sex." you pointed to Luther and Diego with their respective spouses. "Guilt and grudge." you pointed at Viktor and then Allison. "And suicide." Finally, you pointed at Ben. "Look, I don't even need to go there and touch them."

"Sometimes I forget." He pointed to your hands covered in gloves. "And you, how do you feel about the world ending?"

"Relief, I guess." You lied, seeing him nod.

You both watched Klaus approach, in silence. Brother Hargreeves tried to convince them to listen to Sir Reginald, but it was in vain. You understood his hope, in trying to somehow rescue his father's good image and no matter how much he denied it, you could feel that Five wanted to be able to have that kind of hope too.

"I still don't believe him." Five said in a low tone, despite having alcohol in his blood, he still needed to remain alert.

"Me either." you imitated him, moving closer to him. The two of your heads were practically glued together as the two of you talked. "It's a shame to see Klaus so… wait a minute."

Sir Reginald's presence was present there, frightening everyone. It wasn't the spiteful version that you heard Five talk about over the years, but there was something that didn't fit there, you could feel it.

The man gave a brief speech, with a huge poem and it was clear from the looks of those around that the situation was stranger than you could imagine. Perhaps with the intention of breaking the ice hovering in the air, as soon as Hargreeves left the microphone, the dance floor was filled with music and colored lights.

"The old man is actually good at it." Five pondered, taking your attention.

"I don't know, something is wrong. He's always alert, he won't let me touch him." you responded immediately, watching him think for a few seconds.

"Any ideas what we can do?"

"I don't know if you got the memo, but we're about to die. " you turned away from Five to grab your glass. In a cynical gesture, you took your glass towards his glass, improvising a toast. "Here's to the old man's minutes of sanity."

"How can you be so frank?" He seemed indignant, drawing a laugh from your lips. "You're worse than me."

"Ah, dear Five. Try to feel what everyone else feels for a day. All the anger, all the fear. Your own feelings become a burden to you." your words silenced him, leaving space for him to just nod and for you to return to contemplating the speeches.

"I'm glad the world is ending." he stood up, extending his hand to you while his other hand held the bottle of champagne you shared. "Screw other people's feelings."

"Yeah, screw it." You accepted and stood up.

Five led you to the dance floor and even though the music was more upbeat and the dance floor was full of his brothers, he still spun you around a few times, in a kind of disconcerted waltz.

Five soon let go of you and climbed up to where the DJ table was, taking the microphone from the strange man. Without speech or prior notice, Five began to sing. The lyrics weren't the happiest of all, much less the melody, but they were familiar to you. You remembered singing it a few times in Five's presence and saying how much it reminded you of your father, who had been away from you for years.

"Would you accompany me?" your eyes moved away from Five's to Klaus, who proposed a dance. You could notice his suspicious look as he led you away.

"You like him, don't you?" Klaus asked and you just nodded, there was no point in hiding it anymore. "Well, you still have some time until the world ends."

"And if it doesn't end, what do I do next?"

"What do you mean it doesn't end?" Klaus asked, stopping turning you around. "Will you accept Dad's plan?"

"No, no, that's not it. I've seen Five end apocalypses before, I think something inside me hopes he can fix this one too. Maybe it's just the grief speaking inside me."

"Yeah, maybe."

Klaus turned you around once again and let you go, leaving you alone for just a few seconds.

"Let's get out of here?" Five's voice materialized behind you. "I need fresh air."

Before you could respond, he held your hand and led you away. It only took a few minutes for the two of you to be alone, watching the orange sky from the building's terrace.

"Can I ask you something?" You sat next to him, keeping little distance. Before you could ask, he held out the bottle of champagne he hadn't put down yet.

"Technically you already asked."

"Stop being an idiot." your shoulders collided with his. "That's it, right? I think we finally don't have the solution."

"I can almost believe you're scared." this time, you didn't deny it, you just looked away. "You know you don't need to talk, right?"

"I know, but it's frustrating. Running after saving the world all this time and not being able to. I'd rather die, I don't know, run over by a car, with an anvil falling on my head. But an apocalypse?" you laughed and watched Five do what you had done many times when you couldn't use your voice to talk. He took one of your hands and took off the glove, allowing himself to touch your skin.

"I can feel you." he replied, in a low tone. "You are afraid."

Five preferred to omit everything else he felt when he touched your skin. Fear, anguish, anxiety, love. The last one weighed on his mind, but he knew you and knew you would come out as soon as he felt comfortable. In a way, he knew that when he touched you, you would also be aware of his feelings.

"The only people who aren't scared are those who aren't paying attention."

"I think we need to drink more, to forget about this." even after just a few minutes of sitting, Five pulled you to your feet. "And this dress suits you, it's a waste to stay here while the party is going on downstairs."

Again, he dragged you downstairs, where the celebration was taking place. Whiskey, vodka, beer, everything that still contains a quantity of alcohol became part of your menu and at the end of the party, you found yourself sitting at the counter, Five standing a few meters away, tasting two different drinks. Maybe that would be the last time the two of you would party.

"Five?" you interrupted him, making him place the two bottles on the floor. "I don't want to die with regrets."

"Elucidate me on that."

"Even though The Handler always made it clear that I was too much for you, I like you." A sob caused by alcohol interrupted your train of thought. "I like it and I know that maybe I'm a little too much for your arrogance. You're also a little too much for me." You laughed, seeing him approach. "I think after these years, it's only fair for me to say that I love you."

"You think?" he laughed, fitting himself between your legs dangling from the metal counter. "You drank too much."

"You too." you responded immediately, starting to take off your gloves. "And alcohol doesn't affect my opinion. Feelings don't lie, do you want to feel?" Before the first glove could leave your hand, Five stopped you.

"I believe in you and I feel the same." he replied and in an unexpected gesture, he hugged you, putting his face in your mouth. "I've loved you for a while, it's a shame it took us so many years to realize."

"We can live that at least now." You gave space for his face to be in front of yours. "Damn, now I wish I could end this apocalypse."

His lips took yours and instead of his hands attaching themselves to your body, Five disheveledly took off your gloves and pulled your hands until they tangled around the back of his neck.

"I love you so much." he murmured between your lips, feeling almost overwhelmed by all the feeling that emanated from your hands. "Tonight, I'm yours and you're mine, fuck this apocalypse."

"Until the world ends?" you asked breathlessly.

"Until the world ends."

Your mouth tasted like alcohol, sweets and fear for the small future, but Five didn't see the problem, after all you could love each other until the world ended.

[antvnger]

((Thank you, Anon! I’m so glad you liked the speech. It makes me so happy.))

((For anyone wanting to read Scott’s father of the bride speech: click here))

[wolfpackss]

Can I request Paul fluff and smut maybe on their wedding night.

thank you so much 🫶🏻

Thank you so much for requesting this! Hope you enjoy it, I know I did haha!

a/n: smut, 18+, oral (f), dry humping, p in v, unprotected (wrap it before you tap it!)

You look outside the window on the second floor of Emily and Sam’s house. Your hair is rolled up in curlers while you’re wearing a white silk robe with the word “Bride” written on the back in cream cursive. As you look outside and gaze upon the backyard, you let out a small gasp as you see how hard the guys worked to make sure you got your dream wedding. To your dream guy, no less. You just got your makeup done, and you’re waiting for Emily and Kim to help you with your hair and dress.

“Are you ready?” Emily opens the door and walks in with a glass of water. You nod at her and drink the water in one big gulp. “Okay, let’s get these curls out!” Kim shouts, walking in with a big smile on her face. As Kim works on your hair, Emily gets your dress out of its cover and hangs it over the door. “Are you nervous?” You look up at Kim in the mirror and you give her a shaky smile. “A little, not much. I just want today to be perfect, for the both of us.” You sigh and wrap a curl around your finger that’s hanging by your eye. “Y/n, you guys could get married under a bridge in a winter storm, surrounded by vampires and Paul would still consider it the happiest day of his life.” You giggle as Emily gives you a stern look. “He waited a long time for this day, he loves you. Now let’s get your ass in that dress and get you married, huh?”

You stand in front of the backyard door with your father by your side, ready to walk the light of his life down the aisle to his soon to be son-in-law. Soon enough the music starts playing and you take a deep breath. “You ready, pumpkin?” He holds his arm out for you to take, which you nervously do. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” Your father opens the door and the both of you step out, you making immediate eye contact with the love of your life standing a couple of feet away. You can tell by the look in his eyes that he’s nervous and you give him small smile. The closer you get to Paul, the more the calmness washes over you with every step you take. Your gaze falls upon your mother who watches you walk down to your future with tears of joy in her eyes. You look at Paul’s parents who give you encouraging smiles as they too wipe the tears from their eyes. As soon as you stop in front of Paul and he takes your hand from your father, you want to say ‘I do.’, but all you do is smile and kiss your fathers cheek. The officiant gives his big speech, you say the vows you’ve written yourselves, you say i do, Paul says I do and you put the rings on each other’s finger. “I now pronounce you, husband and wife. You may now kiss the bri-,” Paul’s lips are on yours before the officiant can finish his sentence. He claims your mouth in a passionate kiss. “Ladies and gentlemen, Mr and Mrs Paul Lahote.” You look at Paul and he smiles while pressing his lips to yours again.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Being offered some together for some time before the reception starts, Paul pulls you towards the private room for the two of you that’s inside the venue for your reception. He closes the door and grabs your hand to pull you into his arms. “You look so beautiful, Mrs Lahote.” You beam up at him, feeling a rush of something new at the new name you’ve been given. “And you look very handsome, Mr Lahote.” You mumble against his lips as you push a little on your toes to reach him. You feel him smile against your lips and he squeezes your ass through your dress. He sits on the edge of couch, pulling you with him, making you stand before him. “Do you think we’ll get away with having some pre-wedding night activities?” He wiggles his eyebrows and grabs your hips as you smile down at him. You nod and turn around so he can unzip the dress. “Oh no baby, I’m gonna fuck my wife while she’s wearing the dress I fucking married her in.” He growls, pulling you down so you’re sitting in his lap, his chest pressed against your back. You thank whatever god is out there that you bought a dress you could pull up to your hips, so while you shifted on his lap, you did just that. You grind your ass into his crotch, feeling his cock strain against his dress pants. He grabs your hips, pushing you off him for a second so he can undo his pants and pull them towards his ankles. you take that moment to get rid of your soaking wet panties as he pushes his boxers down too.

“Turn around baby, hands on the back of the couch. Yeah just like that, now stick that pretty ass out for me.” You do as he says as you stick your ass out and arch your back. You feel him cup your ass as he spreads your cheeks to look at your glistening pussy. “Such a pretty pussy, so fucking wet.” He growls as you feel a finger run through your folds, spreading your lips a little. You can feel his breath on your clit and you clench the back of back of the couch with your hands as your little bundle of nerves throbs and aches. Paul mumbles something that gets lost on you as you feel his tongue run up and down your slit. “All mine, all fucking mine!” He rumbled as he sucks on your clit and thrusts two fingers inside your aching pussy, clenching immediately at the sensational pleasure of being filled.

It feels like an eternity before Paul pulls his mouth away from your pussy, his face glistening from your juices. He grips his cock and slides it through your pussy lips, stopping at your entrance. Without a warning, Paul thrusts inside you with an earthshaking force. He’s fast to find a pace that brings the both of you closer and closer to the edge. “Does it feel different, huh, getting fucked by your husband? Feeling your husband’s cock inside of you, throbbing, twitching, aching to fill your pussy up.” You whimper and push yourself back into him, wanting to feel him deeper and faster. He reaches his hand around you and finds your clit, bringing you much closer to your orgasm than you wanted. “Fuck baby, I love you, I fucking love that i get to call you my wife now, I love that you took my name, I love that I get to spend forever with you.” He kisses your shoulders and whispers in your ear. You feel his cock twitch inside you, letting you know he’s close and you whimper as he rubs your clit faster, tipping you over the edge. As you ride out your high and Paul halts his sloppy thrusting, he chuckles. You look over your shoulder with a raised eyebrow and a small smile on your lips as you pant.

“I’m so lucky I get to do this, everyday for the rest of my life.” He leans forward, kissing you passionately.

[that---one---kid]

The cold snow

Coriolanus x Reader

AN: Sorry it kinda progressed really fast and I should’ve wrote him getting gradually more obsessive, but I’ll write another like that. Do yall think reader should relate more to teens nowadays though? Should I put her hitting a vuse in the next fic?

Smut, non-con, dub-con, arranged marriage, dark!Coriolanus, baby trapping, mentions of murder, threatening, reference to domestic violence, drugging, loss of virginity

Not once did you feel love for a man. Not once did you plan on getting married. And not once did you ever consider marrying a man from the capital, they were all the epitome of stuck-up, heartless and cruel bastards dressed up to hide it with a thick veil of elegance, but, alas, when did things you wanted ever go your way. You hide a scowl as the man you had heard far too much stood in front of you next to your father. “..and I'm sure she’s looking forward to the dress!” Your father laughed. “I’m quite sure my cousin is just as excited to help with the design.” The snow-haired boy- no, monster, said, turning to face you, his cold blue eyes look unnerving in the dim light of your dining room. You wondered if he had that same look in his eyes as he came up with ways to monetize innocent deaths. You give a forced smile, directed towards your soon-to-be husband. “I can’t wait to see what she comes up with!” Your voice sounds more strained than intended. Your father's hand lands heavy on your shoulder and he gives you a squeeze before speaking. “Coriolanus, it’s been an absolute pleasure as always, but I hate to keep you too late. University I’m sure is tiring enough and you’ll have Y/N to talk your ear off soon enough.” You shift your shoulder and shake his hand off. Your father gives you a look and Coriolanus smiles before taking your hand and raising it to his lips, bowing slightly he kisses your hand softly, the feeling of his lips on your skin makes a chill run up your spine. “Right again Mr. L/N, but I do look forward to having someone else to talk to aside from Gran’mam and Tigris and Y/N is a wonderful conversationalist.” Your father makes his way to the front door alongside Coriolanus while you snake away as they’re too preoccupied with a conversation of politics and wedding arrangements. You quietly make your way upstairs, narrowly missing a maid in your hurry to slip out of your dress and into a bath, washing the filth you felt from that monster touching you off of your skin. You weren’t naive to Coriolanus Snow. Despite a year his junior plenty of people had talked of the tenth games, of Coriolanus’s ideas, and even reminiscing on it made your blood boil even more so the fact that your father would not only condone his actions but praise them. He talked nonstop of Coriolanus’s genius and innovative brain, paired with an influential name is precisely why he was so eager to offer you up as a bride for this up-and-coming president. A soft knock on your bedroom door alerts you. “I’m in the bath!” You yell. Hearing a soft creek, footsteps slowly follow. “Hello?” You yell, a brunette female avox holding a silk robe enters your bathroom. You shift to cover yourself, despite having servants since childhood you never did get used to their lack of speech and dead stare. If your tongue got cut out you wouldn’t have much light in your eyes either, you suppose. “Thanks, just leave it on the counter.” The silent woman robotically moves towards the counter and places it down before leaving, swift footsteps and a quiet door closing signaling it was time for you to get you. Quickly standing and pulling the drain, the cool air on your skin gives you goosebumps. Slipping on the robe, there's another knock on your bedroom door. “Yeah, just one minute…” You pause, trying to recall the avox’s name, but drawing a blank.

Had even you dehumanized these indentured servants so much that you never learned their names? “Y/N?” Your head perks up from the thought. “Uh, you can come in, Mother, I just got out of the bath.” The door closes and you make yourself decent before walking out into your bedroom. Your mother sits at the edge of your bed, her thin frame barely sinking into the plush sheets. Your mother, although barely giving out any more than the bare minimum of maternal comfort, had always been a confidant for you. Rarely speaking unless spoken to, dressed to your father's liking, and eating the rations for a mouse on your father's request, you had always had a soft spot for her. You knew from a young age you wanted nothing to do with men, and never wanted to be trapped in a marriage like your mother was, loveless and cold it was no wonder you were an only child. She motions for you to sit next to her. “Grab your brush and let's talk.” Grabbing your brush off the vanity beside you, you walk over and stiffly sit next to your mother, handing her your brush. She grabs a lock of your hair and begins working her way through the tangles. This goes on for a few minutes before she breaks the silence. “I know you’re not happy about the marriage.” You roll your eyes and let out a huff. “Forgive me for not wanting to marry the malicious Mr. Snow, I know I’m sooo lucky to get a shot with someone who can make such a spectacle of child murder.” The sarcasm that made you bite your tongue around your father was let loose around your mother  She brushes out a knot with more force than she should, making you let out a wince. Sighing she continues on to another section of hair. “No need to be smart.” She puts down the brush and turns you towards her. Her pale, perfectly curated mask of makeup cracks up close. Her tired eyes and creases from many nights of poor sleep cannot be hidden, no matter how much concealer and powders are applied. “I was much more naive than you are when I married your father. I had the stories and the glory days of the capitol, but I was wrong. I know we haven’t set the best example of marriage for you, but please take this away if nothing else.” Your mother looks at you with a stern and pleading gaze. “You need to submit yourself to this fate.” Her voice is desperate and you can only give her a deadpan stare, “I’m not like you, mother, I have no interest in-” A stinging pain floods your senses, your cheek beginning to get hot accompanied by what you're sure is a brilliant red handprint. Your mother composes herself, fumbling with her hands in her lap, a blank stare adorns her tired face. “Unless you want to feel that and much worse from a hand much heavier than mine, I suggest you heed my advice.” Quickly and quietly, your mother stands up and walks to the door while you sit still in a somewhat shocked state from the normally docile woman's slap. “I don’t want to see you get hurt, I don't want you to go through what I did.” And with that she leaves, leaving you to recover and slip into a nightgown before lying in bed, a futile attempt to make sleep come quicker as your head swims through questions, realizations and your inevitable fate of entrapment.

A week comes and goes, you fill your time with work from the academy, struggling to get through dinners and talks with your father about marriage and the upcoming wedding. Your mother, to her credit, uncharacteristically changes the subject from time to time, giving you few and far-between sympathetic glances. You're grateful for that, at least. “I have business to attend to in District Two for a while, your mother and I will be away for at least a week, maybe more.” Your father says in between bites of sirloin. “Will Arthur be coming around?” Arthur was your uncle, a distant relative your father would like to forget, but it was the one fight he lost to your mother, her absolute refusal for him to isolate her completely from her eldest brother was what a majority of their fights were about in your childhood. Despite that, Arthur always made things more lively, less constrictive, and was the rare times you saw your father intimidated. Your father pauses before speaking again. “He is not, I see it fitting that Coriolanus comes and stays with you while we are away. He will escort you to school and come with his driver to pick you up after his university classes.” You clench your fork, and anger and something akin to nervousness twists in your stomach. Steadying your mind before speaking, you look to your mother who sips her wine, refusing to look at you. “Does that not seem improper, Father. I mean we aren’t to be wed for two more months. What image would that look like?” You try finding any loop, using the family image as leverage wasn’t ideal, but it was a last-ditch effort. “Since when have you cared about your public image? It sets a strong front up for the two of you. I want you to be seen with him as a young respectful woman from a strong house, someone the people can see as the first lady of Panem and I trust you will do as told.” There’s emphasis at the end of his words, more like a threat. Your mother clears her throat before excusing herself to the restroom. The rest of the dinner was sat in tense silence.

A knock at the door causes you to shoot your head up from your book in the living room.  Your parents had left early in the morning and it was now early afternoon, you tried easing the building nerves in your stomach by reading non-stop since before the sun was up, with time put aside to make sure your hair and makeup were perfect because despite hating you fiance and dreading his arrival, some small part of you still wanted to be desired by him.  You set down your book before whispering yelling at the avox passing by. You could see a small glimpse of Coriolanus waiting at the door from the window, but the tree would make it hard for him to see you. As childish as it sounded you asked the avox to wait until she heard your bedroom door from upstairs to close before letting coriolanus in. Like a child caught sneaking down stairs to get a glimpse of Santa, you ran quickly and quietly upstairs, praying silently that Coriolanus didn’t look through the windows next to the door only to see you scampering upstairs to hide in your bedroom. As quickly as you could you make it to your bedroom and slam the door just loud enough so that it could be heard downstairs. From there you crawl into your bed and under the covers of your bed, but instead of hiding from the monsters under the bed like when you were a child, you’re hiding from the monster downstairs, the one who comes to strip you of what little freedom you had left. Hearing the stairs creak makes the dull anxiety turn into panic as the creaking disappears, meaning they’ve now made it to the second floor, meaning they, who you were hoping weren't Coriolanus, were most likely heading for your door. Thinking quickly, you feign sleep, hoping that the oldest trick in the book will work on whoever came to disturb you.  A knock on the door makes you flinch, but still you lay as silently as possible, trying to control and calm your breathing. The door knob turns and the door is pushed open ever so slightly. A heavy footstep echoes through your quiet room followed by a closing door.

Glass against glass is heard before being placed by your bedside followed by a weight on the bed and hot breath tickling your ear. “Sleeping at noon? Come on now, Y/N, I’m not an idiot.” Coriolanus’s voice comes out smooth like honey, but cold like the harsh whip of winter air when you first step outside. You turn over, bleary eyed and fake yawning. “What are you doing in my bedroom uninvited?” Your voice is meant to be accusatory and confident but comes out meek and wavering. Coriolanus backs up, his perfectly slicked back hair doesn't falter even when he brushes it back, a smirk that spells nothing but no-good unnerves you. “I’m your fiance, I think we’re past courting formalities, Y/N, plus, I’ve brought you tea.” Smiling Coriolanus gestures to the white porcelain cup. “Thank you, Coriol-” “Call me Corio, please, the formalities and all are far behind us.” You smile, picking up the tea cup and taking a sip out of it to try and fill the awkward silence that weighs heavy in the room. The bitter taste catches you off guard, scowling as you take another sip, trying to gauge what kind of tea it is. “Corio, what is this, it's such a..strange flavor?” Smiling Corio pushes the cup up to your lips again. “It gets better with taste, and old recipe Grand’mam taught me.” Downing it as fast as possible as to not offend his Grna’mam’s tea you feel yourself get light headed as the world gets blurry. “Corio, what is this..” You trail off, your words are slurred and speaking feels like a chore. Your senses are so numbed that you don’t think twice when Corio gently pushes you back against the feather pillows. “Don’t you think it’s funny that we are engaged and haven't so much as kissed yet?”

 Even through your haze you can see the way the blonde is looking at you. His eyes are hungry, like a predator eyeing up its prey. “I’ve been thinking about you like this for a long time, Y/N, by my side, taming you and your defiance.” Coriolanus slips off his shoes and begins unbuttoning his shirt as he climbs on top of you. “I’ve been eyeing you up for awhile, Y/N, before the arrangements, at the academy, the way you look in your uniform, the way you think outside of the box..” Slowly he begins shedding his shirt, his hands snaking their way up your thigh, hiking up your skirt. “And I see the way the other men in the capital look at you, young, beautiful, rich, pure as snow…you’re a very desirable girl.” He’s made his way to the top of your skirt, slowly pulling it down, leaving you in your top and lacey panties. Now shirtless, Coriolanus begins working at undoing his own pants, leaving him in nothing but boxers on top of you. You try moving your legs but they give up after a few tries. It takes all of your energy to fight to stay awake,your heads not spinning anymore, but even if you could move, Coriolanus would easily overpower you. “S-stop.” You muster out weakly, trying and failing to push him off you, your weak arms are pinned to your side quickly by his own. “I don’t like the thought of another man but your husband taking you, and I intend to fulfill my role as your husband before you retaliate.”

Using one hand, Coriolanus unbuttons your shirt, button by button you feel your cheeks heat up and a growing arousal in your panties throws you off. You had never been touched like this by anyone other than your own hands in the dead of night before. Coriolanus swears under his breath as he exposes the rest of you, eyes wandering back down to your panties. “I’ve known about you far longer than you have of me, Y/N. I’m ready to have a loving marriage w​​ith you, but you just need to accept me.” He trails off as he unclasps your bra, rambling more about how he couldn’t wait and all the long dinners with you were driving him mad. Now fully exposed and more out of it than ever you feel his hands cup your breast. His erection pressing hard against your stomach as he leans down for a desperate kiss. He’s rough, trying to take in as much of you as possible.. Panting, his hot breaths send shivers down your spine, you feel your own wetness as you feebly rub your thighs together, weakly and with as much force as you can you push on his shoulders so he is sitting up straddling you. You tell yourself it’s to get him off of you, but in reality if so he’ll give attention to the rest of your body and not just your now abused lips. Coriolanus has the eyes of a madman as he quickly sheds his boxers and pulls down your panties. Using his thumb to tease your clit, you jolt slightly. Feeling foreign hands on you was a strange yet pleasurable experience. “Corio..” your soft moan of his name made him all the more possessive of you. He wanted to only ever hear you say his name in such a way, and he wanted to hear more of it. Taking out his hard cock, he lined it up with your entrance.  Coriolanus leaned back down, kissing you much more softly as he pushed into your virgin cunt. You moan into the kiss as you feel his cock pushing into you. “God, you’re so tight, you were made for me.” He moaned, head spinning Coriolanus wasn’t sure when, but he was holding your hips down as he fucked you, the way your breast bounced and your hair fell in your face as you moaned his name in breathy gasps made his head spin. “Corio-ah, fuck, Coriolanus..” Your meek voice just made him want to fuck you harder, to draw out more symphonies of his name, to make it known to not just you, but the world that you were Y/N Snow, and nobody except him could take you this way.  In between moaning your assailant's name and begging for more, you had a few moments of clarity, where you knew this was wrong but your body betrayed you. Moving on instinct you lift your legs towards your chest, begging to take the blondes’ cock deeper into you. In Coriolanus’s mind, you were begging for him to make you his, for him to not just claim you in name, but claim a life, a life that both of you created. Slamming your hips against his own Corio could feel himself coming undone, letting out breathy moans of your name you felt his hot cum spilling inside of you, begging for your own release which soon followed. Coriolanus fell on top of you, feebly keeping himself stable above you before rolling over to look at you. Rosy cheeks and a thin sheen of sweat cover you as your hair curls and frames your face in an almost angelic way. You were exhausted, trying to think but coming up blank, the drug affect starting to weigh on you, you allow yourself to block out the blonde lying next to you and let your heavy eyes close, drifting off to an inviting deep sleep while Corio stares at you, content with himself and that you’ll never be able to leave him now, especially with the child he and you would have, tying you to him forever.

[cuddlytogas]

there was some Twitter madness recently where someone left a comment on someone's art to the effect of, "Ed shouldn't wear a dress, he's a man!" which I do disagree with on principle, but unfortunately, it brought out one of my least favourite trends in the fandom

so, naturally, I had to write a twitter essay about it. and I already largely argued this in a post here, but the thread is clearer and better structured, so I thought I'd cross-post for those not on the Hellsite (derogatory). edited for formatting/structure's sake, since I no longer have to keep to tweet lengths, and incorporating a couple of points other people brought up in the replies

so

I want to point out that the wedding cake toppers in OFMD s2 aren't evidence that Ed wants to wear dresses. Gender is fake, men can wear skirts, play with these dolls how you like, but it's not canon, and that scene especially Doesn't Mean That.

People cite it often: 'He put himself in a dress by painting the bride as himself! It's what he wants!' But that fundamentally misunderstands the scene, and the series' framing of weddings as a whole. I'd argue that Ed paints the figure not from desire, but from self-hatred; it's not what he wants, but what he thinks he should, and has failed to, be.

(Yes, I am slightly biased by my rampant anti-marriage opinions, but bear with me here, because it is relevant to the interpretation of the scene, and season two as a whole.)

The show is not subtle. It keeps telling us that the institution of marriage is a prison that suffocates everyone involved. Ed's parents' cycle of abuse is passed to their son in both the violence he witnesses then enacts on his father, and the self-repression his mother teaches, despite her good intentions ("It's not up to us, is it? It's up to God. ... We're just not those kind of people. We never will be."). Stede and Mary are both oppressed by their arranged marriage, with 1x04 blunty titled Discomfort in a Married State. The Barbados widows revel in their freedom ("We're alive. They're dead. Now is your time").

But even without this context, the particular wedding crashed in 2x01 is COMICALLY evil. The scene is introduced with this speech from the priest:

"The natural condition of humanity is base and vile. It is the obligation of people of standing ... to elevate the common human rabble through the sacred transaction of matrimony."

It's upper class, all-white, and religiously sanctioned. "Vile natural conditions" include queerness, sexual freedom, and family structures outside the cisheteropatriarchal capitalist unit. "The obligation of people of standing" invokes ideas like the white man's burden, innate class hierarchy, religious missions, and conversion therapy. Matrimony is presented as both "sacred" (endorsed by the ruling religious body), and a "transaction" (business performed to transfer property and people-as-property, regardless of their desires), a tool of the oppressive society that pirates escape and destroy. That is where the figurines come from.

When Ed, in a drunk, depressive spiral, paints himself onto the bride, he's not yearning for a pretty dress. He's sort of yearning for a wedding, but that's not framed as positive. What he's doing is projecting himself into an 'ideal' image of marriage because he believes that: a) that's what Stede (and everyone) wants; b) he can never live up to that ideal because he's unlovable and broken (brown, queer, lower-class, violent, abused, etc); c) that's why Stede left. He tries to make himself fit into the social ideal by painting himself onto the closest match - long-haired, partner to Stede/groom, but a demure, white woman, a frozen, porcelain miniature - because, if he could just shrink himself down and squeeze into that box, maybe Stede would love him and he'd live happily ever after. But he can't. So he won't.

The fantasy fails: Ed is morose, turns away from the figurines, then tips them into the sea, a lost cause. He knows he won't ever fulfil that bride's role, but he sees that as a failure in himself, not the role. It's not just that "Stede left, so Ed will never have a dream wedding and might as well die." Stede left when Ed was honest and vulnerable, "proving" what his trauma and depression tell him: there's one image of love (of personhood), and he'll never live up to it because he's fundamentally deficient. So he might as well die.

This hit me from my very first viewing. The scene is devastating, because Ed is wrong, and we know it! He doesn't need to change or reduce himself to fit an image and be accepted (as, eg, Izzy demanded). Stede knows and loves him exactly as he is; it's the main thread and theme of season two!

(@/everyonegetcake suggested that Ed's yearning in these scenes includes his broader desire for the vulnerability and safety Stede offered, literalised through unattainable "fine" things like the status of gentleman in s1, or the figurine's blue dress. I'd argue, though, that these scenes don't incorporate this beyond a general knowledge of Ed's character. Ed is always pining for both literal and emotional softness, but the significance of the figurines specifically, to both Ed and the audience, is poisoned by their origin and context: there is no positive fantasy in the bride figure, only Ed's perceived deficiency.

Further, assuming that a desire for vulnerability necessarily corresponds with an explicit desire for femininity, dresses, etc, kind of contradicts the major themes of the show. OFMD asserts that there is nothing wrong with men assuming femininity (through drag, self-care, nurturing, emotional vulnerability, etc), but also that many of these traits are, in fact, genderless, and should be available to men without affecting their perceived or actual masculinity. It thematically invokes the potential for cross-gender expression in Ed's desires, especially through the transgender echoes in his relieved disposal, then comfortable reincorporation, of the Blackbeard leathers/identity. It's a rich, valuable area of analysis and exploration. But it remains a suggestion, not a canon or on-screen trait.)

Importantly, the groom figure doesn't fit Stede, either. Not just in dress: it's stiff and formal, and marriage nearly killed him. He's shabbier now, yes, but also shedding his privilege and property, embracing his queerness, and trying to take responsibility for his community. In a s1 flashback, Stede hesitantly says, "I thought that, when I did marry, it could be for love," but he would never find love in marriage. Not just because he's gay, but because marriage in OFMD is an oppressive, transactional institution that precludes love altogether. All formal marriages in OFMD are loveless.

So, he becomes a pirate, where they reject society altogether and have matelotages instead. Lucius and Pete's "mateys" ceremony is shot and framed not like a wedding, but as an honest, personal bond, willingly conducted in community (in a circle; no presiding authority, procession, or transaction).

That is how Stede and Ed can find love, companionship, and happiness: by rejecting those figurines and their oppressive exchange of property, overseen by a church that enables colonialism and abuse. Ed is loved, and deserves happiness, as he is, no paint or projection required.

ALL OF THIS IS TO SAY: draw Ed in dresses! Write him getting gender euphoria in skirts! Write trans/nb Ed, draw men being feminine! Gender is fake, the show invites exploration, that's what 'transformative works' means! But please, stop citing the cake toppers as evidence it's canon. Stop citing a scene where a depressed Māori man gets drunk and projects himself onto a rich, white, silent bride because he thinks he's innately unlovable and only people like her can find happiness, shortly before deciding to kill himself, as canon evidence it's what he wants.

(Also, please don't come in here with "lmao we're just having fun," I know, I get it. Unfortunately, I'm an academiapilled researchmaxxer, and some of youse need to remember that the word "canon" has meaning. NOW GO HAVE FUN PUTTING THAT MAN IN A PRETTY DRESS!! 💖💖)

[piratefishmama]

Crashed the wedding, Part 7

Eddie had no grand speech prepared, he had nothing, his whole job was to wing it, which was probably a good thing because anything he’d have prepared to say, would have flown right out of the metaphorical window when he saw Steve.

He’d only just managed that witty quip as he Aragon’d his way through those doors, all the breath just taken right out of him god he was still as beautiful as the day Eddie left, nine years hadn’t touched him at all. His hair still impossibly perfect, even though he’d clearly not put much effort into it for the day, his glasses still made him look like the cutest pre-school teacher ever, and the moles.

Lord have mercy on his poor soul, the moles. He was too gay for this. He just wanted to skip everything, get directly to wrapping Steve up in the cosiest of sweaters, and handing him the tastiest mug of hot cocoa like he deserved, and just cuddling him for the rest of his life.

“E-Excuse me sir, we hadn’t actually gotten to that part yet” The reverend’s voice hesitantly cut through the silence that seemed to carry on for way longer than intended. The man choosing not to mention that the senior Harringtons had instructed him to remove the offer to the guests to object from the ceremony speech citing that they wouldn’t need it.

“Yeah well, it’s not like I had a damn invitation to sit in and wait, did I?” Eddie snapped right back, shaking himself up. He had a job to do, a love of his life to rescue, and no goddamn idea as to how he was supposed to do that if Steve wasn’t reacting in any way other than just staring at him with wide-eyed, open-mouthed surprise.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Steve heard from his left, turning to find his father’s face had turned a curious shade of red in apparent anger. The man quickly turning his eye onto his son hissing “did you have something to do with this?” At him. God Steve wished. He’d have given anything to have had the courage to just pick up the damn phone and call Eddie before all this shit went down.

Nine goddamn years, he wished he’d have picked up the phone each and every single day, but he hadn’t, too many missed calls, too many excuses for him to keep trying, he’d been so sure that Eddie had just… moved on, convincing himself more and more with each failed attempt to stay in touch that maybe… maybe it was just for the best.

Eddie was famous, for something good… besides the shit that happened during Vecna’s little bitch fit, Eddie hadn’t stepped a toe out of line in nine whole years, no scandals, no drug addiction stories, no compromising paparazzi shots in the papers, he sang his songs, played his nerd games, he showed up as ‘Metal Santa’ at Children’s hospitals with the other bandmates dressed as goofy elves, giving out toys all out of his own pocket, he helped out at soup kitchens on the weekends when he wasn’t busy, did charity auctions of random shit for troubled youth charities, he was good. The only time he’d had an issue was early ’88 with a mild drinking problem but Dustin knocked some sense into him on that one and he’d cleaned up his act by September the same year.

He looked mean and scary sometimes, but nobody, not a single person could ever accuse him of being anything but good. Steve was just… Steve.

A man going nowhere, stuck in his hometown with nothing to offer him. It’d been so easy to convince himself to just stop trying. Eddie didn’t need him, Eddie probably didn’t want him, he could have anyone, why would he want him?

Steve didn’t answer his father, instead turned back to the intruder, a smile fighting at the corner of his lips as he witnessed the man telling one of the bride’s huffy aunts to pipe the fuck down. “Eddie? The hell are you doing here?” How could he let his mind force him to doubt when Eddie was right there as if he’d heard that one wish Steve had spoken only in his mind.

“Rescuing you, sweetheart, can’t say I’m the most impressive of cavalry but at least I look good, which is more than I can say for your bride, yikes ma’am you just faceplant into a cake made up entirely of makeup this morning? Not a good look, I can see where the foundation meets the rest of your neck. One word, blend.” Liar, she looked flawless, but the outraged gasp of an offended bride was worth it. The shit stirring little fucker. “It will change your life.”

“Steven—” Harriet huffed, turning to her groom expectantly “aren’t you even going to—”

“No.” Steve immediately cut her off with a short, snort of a laugh, eyes still on Eddie as the man approached, his bride immediately turning to her parents to loudly complain about the interruption, Steve tuned her out completely, he’d tuned everything out, focusing entirely on Eddie “you could have worn a shirt, man.”

“And miss the warm Indiana breeze on my nip? I think not Steven.” Steve scrunched up his nose in distaste “Stevie? Steve-o, Ooh, ooh… Estebe?”

“That means Stebe and you know it means Stebe.”

“I know but you always thought it was cute.” He was within reaching distance now, so close he could touch him, could touch him to ensure he was real, that he hadn’t just hallucinated his way through his forced vows.

“I only thought it was cute cause you actually thought it meant Steve.” He reached, Eddie’s smile widening, only for it to drop, his eyes sharpening in barely concealed rage as Harrington Sr. grabbed the arm reaching out toward Eddie.

“Don’t even think about it, Steven. You will inform your brief, and unfortunate lapse in judgement that you were mistaken, that it meant nothing, and you’re marrying Miss Reid, do not make me remind you—”

“Sit the fuck down Harrington, nobody pulled your string.” Eddie snarled leaning in close enough for the man to release his grip in surprise.

“Eddie… he’s right, I—I have to.”

“No, no you don’t, I see nobody we know here Steve, your friends, your family they’re not here… why? Why aren’t they here Steve… on what should be the happiest day of your life, why did Nancy have to shoot a security guard in the arm just to get me in?”

“Nance did what?” Was that what that noise was?

“Surprised you didn’t hear the gunshot. Karen wheeler practically shoved this monkey suit on me and shoved me out the damn door in hopes I could get you out of this, the only reason the others aren’t here is because these assholes did well enough to have it clash with everything going on in their lives.” Not him though, Eddie would have abandoned a whole damn tour, he’d have cancelled mid-gig, if necessary, Steve needed him. He needed them. “What’s stopping you from walking out of that door right now, baby? What’s doing that?”

He saw that crack in Steve’s already crumbling resolve at the soft use of an old pet name, such a simple, generic little name but it always made Steve just a little weak hearing it from Eddie. “Eddie—Eddie I’m… I can’t…”

There were whispers, people had stood up to get a closer look, nobody in that church recognised Eddie, as famous as he was, he wasn’t their kind of famous. Eddie paid them no mind, taking those last few steps, using what little courage he had left to reach up and skim his calloused fingers along that perfect jawline, thumb caressing the soft cushion of his cheek just below where his glasses perched. “You can, baby boy… my sweet little prince, you can walk right out of here with me… whatever it is Steve, we can deal with it, money? Baby I have more in pocket change than your family’s entire net worth combined, including the shit in those offshore accounts ol John here doesn’t think anyone knows about it.” Steve’s father leaned a fraction backwards in surprise, how the fuck did Munson know about that? He could move all he wanted, Eddie wasn’t paying attention to him, his soft eyes were on Steve, watching as the man let his own drift shut, leaning into the palm cupping his cheek. “Hawkins? Sweetheart… I got here in a day, I flew first class, very fancy, if anything happens, we’ve got it, we can be back here so fast whatever that freaky-ass place throws at us, we’ll be ready for it same as always… so what is it, big boy, what’s stopping you?”

Steve let his eyes open halfway, taking in the man in front of him “I’m not worth it Eddie… just… just go, it’s okay… I’ll be fine, m’always fine” so why did that smile look so sad “…I’m not worth what you’d lose if I were to leave.”

Part 9

[urdreamgirls-dreamgirl]

and i wouldn’t marry me either, pt. 1

have u guys seen that movie plus one on hulu with jack quaid and maya erskine? ok well here’s this thing. also, tw for steve puking.

Steve is drunk. Like, really, embarrassingly drunk.

And that would be fine, really, if he wasn’t at someone’s actual, real-life wedding.

Somewhere between the ceremony and the cocktail hour, the father-of-the-bride speech that had made him cry and the cutting of the cake, he’d started thinking about Nancy Wheeler and thinking about Nancy Wheeler had led to him practically funding the open bar with the spare change he’d been sure to bring in his pockets for tips.

And the thing about it is, Steve normally loves weddings. He loves the flowers and the vows and watching the bride walk down the aisle. He loves the DJ announcing the new couple, loves throwing confetti outside the church, loves the look on the groom’s face when he sees his almost-wife in her dress for the first time. But—

“Harrington!” Tommy Hagan yells from across the room, gesturing for Steve to make his way over. Steve racks his brain for an explanation as to why Tommy H would be at this wedding; he doesn’t remember Gareth and Tommy being particularly close back in their college days. Steve stumbles his way over to Tommy’s table, keeping a secure hand around his gin & tonic, trying his best not to spill.

“Stevie!” Tommy’s fiancée, Carol, practically crows as she leans over Tommy’s lap. “Where’s Nancy?”

“Yeah, man, kinda thought you’d be the first one marching down the aisle,” Tommy laughs and Carol swats him on the arm.

Steve downs his practically full drink before slamming the heavy glass back down on the table.

“We broke up actually,” Steve grimaces. “Last week.”

Carol gives him an exaggerated pout while Tommy cringes. “Aw, baby, I’m so sorry,” Carol slurs. Steve has to hold himself back from rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, well.” Steve runs a hand through his hair. “We wanted different things.”

They offer him a few more words of sympathy before Steve finally flees, making excuses about finding the bathroom. He’s too drunk for this.

He leaves the table in search of another drink.

~*~

Eddie’s just outside the reception hall, out on the venue’s terrace, sparkling with fairy lights. He’s got a stack of index cards in his hands, trying to make out his own scrawled handwriting, when someone stumbles directly into his back. He feels something wet through the fabric of his dress shirt.

“Fuck, shit, sorry, fuck,” someone says, their hands patting at the wetness.

Eddie finally turns to see a disheveled Steve Harrington, a half-empty glass clutched in his fist. His hair’s a mess, his tie’s undone, and he’s clearly drunk. Eddie had seen him stumbling around the dance floor earlier.

“Dude, you good?” Eddie asks, genuinely concerned. He can’t remember the last time he’d seen Harrington drunk. It had to be way back in college, when he’d only known Steve as that annoying frat dude that Gareth and Dustin always brought around. He’d spent a full year trying to figure out what those two saw in him and doing everything in his power to avoid group hang outs.

They’d gotten closer over the years, once they’d graduated and become, like, real, fully-formed human beings. Harrington was actually a pretty chill dude, funny and sweet and able to give as good as he got whenever Eddie was in a particularly teasing mood. Eddie’s ego wasn’t so big that he couldn’t admit he’d been wrong about Harrington, at least in the privacy of his own head.

“Yeah, man, all good,” Steve slurs, barely coherent. He raises his empty hand limply in an attempt at a thumbs up.

“Man, you don’t look so good.” Steve’s eyes are practically vacant and Eddie is feeling genuinely concerned. And he’s proven right when Steve stumbles over to one of the concrete planters lining the terrace and pukes his guts out. It’s loud and disgusting and Eddie can feel the grimace on his own face. But Steve is his friend, so he reaches his hand out to rub Steve’s back, even as he keeps his distance.

“Hey, Eddie,” he hears Jeff call from the French doors that lead into the reception hall.

“Yeah?” Eddie spares a quick glance over his shoulder before returning his attention to where Steve is groaning into the dirt of some exotic-looking tree.

“‘Bout ready to cut the cake,” Jeff tells him. “Need you in a few.”

Right. Eddie’s best man speech. The reason he was out here in the first place. He’s not nervous or anything. He’s a natural showman and entertainer, loves being in front of a crowd. And he loves Gareth and Chrissy. He has plenty of good things to say about them, plenty of embarrassing stories from when he and Gareth were kids, and plenty of sweet ones from when they’d finally met Chrissy in college. Nah, Eddie’s pretty much got this in the bag. He’s just not used to the idea of his friends being actually, real-life married. They’re only 27; Chrissy’s practically a child bride for god’s sake!

Eddie glances down at Steve, whose face is red and sweaty. Eddie’s not blind or stupid; he knows Steve’s an attractive dude. He’s a little too preppy and heterosexual (even though Eddie knows on a theoretical level that Steve does sometimes sleep with other guys) for Eddie’s tastes, but the man is hot. Except for right now. He actually looks pretty bad, possibly the worst Eddie’s ever seen him. And that’s really saying something, considering Steve had actually had his stomach pumped during Greek Week their senior year. At least Steve seems to have cleared the contents of his stomach, at this point.

“Hey, man, you good?” Eddie asks him, his hand still rubbing slow circles on Steve’s back.

Steve groans before looking up at him. “Eddie?” Steve squint. “You’re pretty. Like Nancy.” And Steve sounds so sad when he says it that even Eddie’s heart gives a little squeeze.

“Uh, thank you,” Eddie glances toward the open doors again. The cake is being wheeled out into the middle of the dance floor. “Listen, I don’t wanna leave you out here, but I gotta go give a speech. Can you, uh, stand up for me?”

“Yeah, man, totally,” Steve slurs out, barely comprehensible. He drags the back of his hand over his lips and chin, which should be kind of disgusting, but Eddie just feels sorry for him. Steve makes it one step before he’s slouching into Eddie’s shoulder, all his weight falling into Eddie’s chest. Eddie grunts and fits his hands around Steve’s waist.

“Fuck, dude, how much do you weigh?” Eddie’s voice comes out a little breathless.

“175, baby. Pure muscle,” Steve slurs back.

“Yeah, I believe it,” Eddie mutters, fingertips digging hard into the firmness of Steve’s lower back. “Okay, come on, let’s get you a chair.”

It takes some maneuvering but Eddie finally gets Steve inside and seats him at the closest table. It’s empty, since most people had been dancing and are currently crowded around the cake. Chrissy’s sister, the maid of honor, is holding a microphone, finishing her speech.

“We love you, Chrissy,” she’s saying, looking at the bride with tears in her eyes. “We know that Gareth will do everything in his power to make you happy. To Gareth and Chrissy!” She raises her glass of champagne, smiling, and everyone around her does the same, echoing her toast. “Okay, now where’s the best man?” She says, scanning the crowd.

Eddie smiles and makes his way over, taking the microphone from her.

“When I met Gareth, we were five years old. We’ve been through a lot together, from Gareth’s bug eating phase, to his wetting the bed phase, to that phase he had where he used to Naruto run to class in middle school, to his Hitchcock phase where he tried to talk in that transatlantic accent for literal months, to his bleach blonde phase, to his—”

“Alright, alright, we get it,” Gareth cuts in, rolling his eyes with an easy smile. The crowd laughs.

“Okay, okay. All I’m saying is I’ve seen a lot of versions of my best friend. But the best Gareth by far is the one he is with Chrissy. I remember when Gareth first met her, in their art history seminar. He came back to the dorm after that first week and told me he’d met an angel. ‘I’m in love, dude,’ he told me. ‘I’m marrying this girl.’ I, of course, was skeptical, especially when he pointed her out later that month in the dining hall. ‘Sorry, man, but no way. She’s way outta your league,’ I told him. But to my surprise, Chrissy Cunningham came marching up to us right then and there and asked Gareth if he’d started studying for their midterm. Gareth stumbled through that whole interaction making an absolute fool of himself. I’m pretty sure he put his elbow in my mashed potatoes,” Gareth and Chrissy laugh, “but that didn’t stop Chrissy from asking him to study that weekend. And the rest is, as they say, history.” Eddie raises his own glass of champagne in the direction of the happy couple. “When Gareth told me he was marrying Chrissy, all I could say was ‘it’s about fucking time.’ Chrissy is the smartest, sweetest woman I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet and she somehow makes my best friend an even better dude. So thank you, Chrissy, and congratulations to you both.” Everyone raises their glasses. Over the sounds of the room toasting, Eddie can hear Steve at his table in the back corner drunkenly cheering.

“Woo-hoo!” Steve claps. “Yeah!” Thankfully, no else really seems to notice and Eddie watches over Chrissy’s shoulder as Steve tries to stand from his seat but falls back into it on his ass, looking dazed.

“Thanks, Eddie,” Chrissy whispers as they pull away from their hug. “I love you.”

“Love you, too, babe,” Eddie tells her, squeezing her hands in his. He glances back over at Steve. “I’m gonna take Harrington up to my room, let him sleep some of the alcohol off.”

Chrissy’s eyes widen. “Oh, good idea. I was a little worried about him when I saw him stumbling around the dance floor before.” Eddie gives her hands one final squeeze before wandering off to collect Steve.

~*~

Getting Steve into the elevator is a struggle. He doesn’t want to leave, keeps saying he didn’t even get to eat a piece of cake yet. He only lets Eddie shove him through the metal doors when Eddie promises to bring him a piece when he comes back up later.

They make it to Eddie’s room without further incident and once they’re safely inside, Steve starts ripping off his suit without a care in the world. His hands and arms are flying everywhere. He almost takes Eddie out with an elbow to the temple.

“Dude, calm down,” Eddie tells him, hands on Steve’s arms. “Let me help you.” He unbuttons what’s left of Steve’s shirt and hangs it over the closet doorknob before reaching for Steve’s waistband and undoing his fly. His suit pants fall around his ankles. “Okay, step out.”

Steve braces his hands on Eddie’s shoulders and lifts one leg and then the other, until he’s standing there in only his briefs and his dress socks.

“Thought about this a lot in college,” Steve mutters, still slurring his words.

And that—huh? What? Thought about what a lot? Eddie undressing him?

Eddie does his best not to react. Steve’s drunk. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.

Eddie brings his own hands up to curl around Steve’s wrists and pull his hands away from his shoulders. He bends down and picks up Steve’s pants, folding them and placing them on the dresser. He folds back the bed’s comforter.

“Okay, big boy, in ya go.” He gestures toward the bed, encouraging Steve to lay down. Steve suddenly looks exhausted as he slides under the covers.

His eyes are half-closed before his head even hits the pillow.

Before Eddie shuts off the light and leaves to head back downstairs, he hears Steve call out softly, “sorry if I ruined it.” He shifts sleepily on the bed. “I always ruin it.”

Eddie feels like he’s swallowed glass as he slowly shuts the door behind him.

~*~

Steve wakes up to sunshine streaming in through the curtains of an unfamiliar bedroom. His head is killing him and his mouth feels like he’s swallowed 87 cotton balls. He groans, rolling away from the window, only to be met with the image of Eddie Munson’s shirtless, sleeping form.

Fuck. How drunk had he been last night? He vaguely remembers puking outside somewhere and Eddie rubbing his back, but he definitely doesn’t remember leaving the wedding. He doesn’t remember leaving the wedding with Eddie.

Steve spares a quick glance under the covers and is relieved to see that he’s still wearing his underwear and Eddie’s got on a pair of pajama pants. Surely he wouldn’t have sex and then put his underwear back on; that seems like something only a serial killer would do.

It’s not like he hasn’t thought about it. There was that one year, just after they’d graduated, that Steve had thought maybe there was something between them, something a little more than friendship.

But then he’d met Nancy Wheeler at his new job and she’d asked him out and he’d started imagining their lives together and thoughts of anyone else had just floated away.

So, yeah, Steve’s thought about it. Eddie’s gorgeous and funny and smart. It’s not like Steve would regret it. He could certainly do a lot worse.

But if he’s gonna sleep with one of his closest friends, he’d like to actually remember it.

In between Steve’s spiraling thoughts, Eddie must have woken up, because when Steve spares another glance toward his face, Eddie’s staring right back at him, making him jump slightly.

“Fuck, dude, make a noise,” Steve breathes out before running a hand through his sleep-tousled hair. “We didn’t—uh, nothing like… happened or whatever, right? We didn’t, like… you know… did we?”

Eddie stares at him for a long moment before putting Steve out of his misery. “No offense, Stevie, but I’m not really into guys that can barely string together a coherent thought.”

“Oh, thank god,” Steve sighs with relief, body sagging against the mattress. He sees Eddie’s mouth twitch. “Not that I… you know, you’re hot or whatever, but like…”

“Dude, relax,” Eddie laughs, moving to sit on the edge of the mattress. “You were black out drunk. I just brought you up here so you didn’t hurt yourself.”

Steve winces. “I didn’t, like, embarrass myself, did I? Or, like, ruin the wedding?”

Eddie looks at him with something like pity and Steve has to swallow nervously.

“No, Steve, you were fine. I just found you throwing up outside and though you’d had enough.”

Steve stares down at his hands. “Thanks, man,” he says softly.

“No worries, you’d do the same for me.” He sounds so totally sure that Steve would. “Weddings are tough. Can you believe I have, like, four more to go to, just this summer? I’ll probably black out at at least one of them. Anyway, I’m gonna take a shower and then you should probably also shower. You stink.” Eddie stands from the bed and claps his hands together. “And then we’re taking full advantage of the free hotel breakfast bar.”

~*~

After they’ve showered and Eddie’s gone back to the breakfast buffet for seconds and thirds, he offers to drive Steve home and Steve gratefully accepts. He’s really not in the mood for an Uber or, even worse, the subway.

Steve keeps thinking about what Eddie had said back in the hotel room. That he had four more weddings to go to this summer alone. Steve has five of his own and the thought of going through all that alone makes his stomach clench and his throat tighten. He knows he’s going to see Nancy at at least one of them and that thought alone has Steve desperate.

“Hey, you know how you said you have four more weddings to go to this summer?” Steve asks from the passengers seat. Eddie hums an affirmative response. “I have five.”

“No shit, that sucks, man. I actually fuckin’ hate weddings, to tell you the truth.” Eddie doesn’t take his eyes off the road.

“I used to love them, actually. But, I don’t know. They’ve kind of lost their charm,” Steve doesn’t mean to sound super mega fucking depressed about it, but he knows he does.

“Fuck, dude. Sorry,” Eddie glances at him, a worried look in his eye.

“But, uh, I was thinking,” Steve powers on. “Maybe we should, like, help each other out?”

Eddie’s brow furrows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Like, you know.” Steve gestures vaguely with his hand. “Make it less unbearable. Like, we could go together or something.”

“You want to be each other’s plus ones?” Eddie asks incredulously.

“Yeah, man, think about it. You’d always have someone to chill with, even if the party’s fucking lame. We could make fun of the bridesmaids’ dresses together and shit. It wouldn’t be as god fucking awful if we were together.”

They’re stopped at a red light and Eddie has turned to stare directly at him.

“You do realize that would mean we’d be going to ten weddings, like, collectively, right? Why would I want to go to more weddings then I actually have to?”

“Well, nine, since Chrissy and Gareth’s is over,” Steve tells him, matter-of-factly. “Come on, Eddie, this summer is fucking torture for me. You know Nancy, like, crushed me or whatever. It would really help me out, to have you there. Just think about it.”

And, Steve thinks, that’s kind of what does it. Eddie has a savior complex about a mile wide and Steve has never been above using that to his advantage.

Eddie sighs and shifts his gaze back to the road as the light turns green.

“Fine, Harrington,” he finally says. “But you are paying for all my suit rentals and buying all the gifts.”

Steve smiles. “Deal.”