#i always struggle with color but I believe this is alright

[winniemaywebber]

The Apple Tree • Part 6

Rosie Rosenthal x Reader

warnings: 18+, soft dom, oral (m & f giving and receiving), sexual intercourse.

“Ready to go?” Sally saunters through the door of the schoolhouse, her skirt swaying in the cool breeze emanating from the doorway. You're midway through shoving a biscuit in your mouth as she slams through, distracting you and causing you to almost choke on a stray crumb.

“That's one way to make an entrance,” you say, feeling your face reddening from straining, trying to keep a cough at bay. “You're early,” you tell her, your eyebrow raised. “It's only three.”

“R-right…” she begins, her eyes darting around the room. “Just thought, since it's Friday and everything, you should get some extra time at home. Y'know, refresh before the weekend, be ready for tonight–”

“Tonight?” you cut her off. “We're only going to the bloody pub, Sal. They've seen me looking the least refreshed possible.”

“Yes, hm, I know but, uh–” she pauses, and you spot the telltale sign that she's keeping something from you: the corner of her mouth is twitching as she struggles to come up with a lie. Just like she can read you like a book after all these years, you're able to do the same with her. You peer at her, your eyebrow still raised, sighing at her. 

“Fine, okay. I'll go home and be ‘refreshed’,” your fingers making air quotes around the word. “But if I find out you're keeping something from me, you're in for it, lady.” You poke at her, then giggle to show her you're joking as her face drops and starts graying. “Come on then,” you sigh, wiping the last of the biscuit crumbs from your pants and closing your notebooks, placing them in a drawer in preparation for the new week. 

---

James is stood outside under the apple tree, smoking a cigarette and munching an apple, taking alternate bites and puffs of the cigarette. As he sees the pair of you coming towards him and catches sight of Sally, the worst happens. Watching him as if in slow motion, he bites down on the cigarette, his face contorting as he realizes what he's done. You and Sally break into a peal of laughter, James’ face turning the same shade of red as the apple he'd been eating.

“Alright, leave it,” he drawls, his eyes slightly downcast before he erupts into laughter too. “Come on, chicks, let's get outta here.” Throwing the bitten cigarette into the makeshift trash can (a bucket the children had painted and then nailed to a post), you begin in the direction of your cottage. 

—

It's halfway through the walk that you spot a familiar figure in the distance. Back slightly scrunched, clutching his hat with the same anxiety that seems to always be racing through his body, is Harry Crosby. 

“Croz!” James yells, raising a hand in greeting.

“Harry Crosby. A pleasure, as always.” you say as he nods at you, winking at James. 

“This is all very nice,” you start. “But what's going on?” You look between the three of them, all of them trying their best not to make eye contact with you. Sally's lips begin to purse and, once again, that mouth twitch. You grip her by the shoulder to get her to look at you. “Out with it, Sally.” She giggles, shaking her head and looks over at her man. He lifts his hands up, as if to say he's not breaking either. 

“Harry?” Your eyes squinting toward him, knowing that he'll be the one to crack. His face turns pale as he shifts from one foot to the other as you see the cogs turning in his head, trying to formulate a believable lie. 

“Oh, errrm, it's uh–just, well, Rosie…” You feel Sally and James shoot him a darted glance and you hear James sigh. 

“Come on, man! You were doing so good!”

“I'm–I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just–” he struggles to hide a smile, his hand covering his mouth as the color comes back to his cheeks. 

“You'd all better tell me what's going on, you cheeky little–”

“No,” Sally says pointedly, smiling at you, linking arms with James. “Let's just get you home, and then you'll see.”

—

You're a few steps away from your cottage when you see someone pacing from your front door to your white picket gate. Harry, Sally and James look towards you, all smiling as they see you let out a gasp. Shooting a glance at the three of them, you break into a full sprint towards your home. Not bothering to try and unlatch the gate, you leap over it and into Rosie's arms. There's a second of silence before you're both laughing in relief, you letting out an excited yelp as he lifts you off the ground.

“Oh, Rosie,” you murmur into him, his lips finally capturing yours in a tender kiss. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” kissing you again as he puts you down. Noticing the tears trickling from your eyes, his own eyes widen. “Hey now, pretty girl,” he says softly, taking you in his arms again. “Don't cry, shhh, it's okay.” 

“I'm sorry,” you choke out, gulping through your tears. “I just missed you so much, and…oh, it's been horrible.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he soothes, your head on his chest and him stroking your hair. You feel his breath shake a little, his hand stroking your back. “I missed you more.”

“Not possible,” you sniffle, looking up at him. He places his hand on your face and kisses you deeply. 

“I can't tell you how many nights I dreamt of doing this while I was away, just being with you. Kissing you, holding you. It's all that spurred me on, in fact.” He pauses, his thumb stroking your cheek. “I just wanted to come home to you.”

You hear the gate click open, pulling you from your little bubble with Rosie. You turn to see your friends with huge grins on their faces, Sally's eyes glistening with tears. 

“Are you all coming in?”

“No, we're gonna be leaving you to it,” James says, winking cheekily. “We'll see yall tomorrow!” 

—

Entering the house, you and Rosie both remove your jackets and place them on the coat hooks by the door. Without thinking, you go into autopilot, walking to the kitchen to boil a pot of water for tea. Lighting a match to turn the gas on, you feel Rosie's arms around your waist. Leaning over your shoulder, he blows the match out, and turns you around to face him. He kisses you so deeply that it takes your breath away, his lovely big hands pawing all over your body. You feel yourself pushed against the stove, the weight of the two of you against it causing it to move out of place. Giggling, you break apart.

“Do you want tea, or not?” You ask, looking up at him through your lashes. 

“No,” He kisses you again, humming into you. “I just want you.” 

You feel yourself being picked up and carried over to the dining table on the opposite side of the room. He sits you down upon it, and without hesitation, your legs wrap around his waist to get him as close to you as possible. 

“Woah, hold on, honey,” he laughs, his hands on your thighs. He starts pressing light kisses to your neck before giving it a small nip with his teeth, making you gasp. “Let me take my time, yeah?” He looks back at you, his blown pupils overtaking his baby blue eyes. You nod in agreement, reaching up to kiss him again. “Good girl,” he purrs, his lips meeting yours. 

The kiss deepens, you gasping for air as he toys with your belt, reaching out to unbutton his shirt. You get two buttons open when he pushes your hands away, placing them gently on the table. “No, honey,” he says breathlessly. “Wait your turn.” 

“B-but…” you stutter, confused. “I need to touch you, I haven't touched you in months. Please, darling.”

“No,” he repeats, his hands returning to your belt. “Not until I've taken care of you first.” In a swift movement, he's pulled your belt loose and unbuttoned your trousers, untucking your shirt painstakingly slowly. It takes everything in you to not rip it off yourself, and he sees your hands begin to move from their position on the table.

“Nu-uh,” he looks at you pointedly, those damn pretty eyes full of want. “Do as you're told. Hands down.” With a frustrated moan, you slam your hands back down on the table, Rosie back to kissing and nibbling at your neck and collar as he unbuttons your blouse, his mustache adding that delicious tickle and roughness you'd missed so much. You feel yourself white knuckling the table as he sucks and nibbles his way across your front, removing your brassiere nimbly. 

“Pretty girl,” he murmurs, his mouth making its way down lower to your chest. 

“Please, Rosie,” you beg, his mouth hovering over your puckered nipple. “Please let me touch you.” It all comes out as a whine, your brow furrowed with frustration. 

“Look at you,” he purrs in that deep, husky voice. “Begging like that.” You try to moan, but it comes out as more of a high-pitched whine as he takes your nipple into his mouth, his fingers fiddling with the other before switching sides. Your hands find themselves in his curls and he doesn't object.

“Finally,” you sigh. Your fingers run through his hair, tickling through his scalp as he gets lower, gesturing you to lift your hips up to remove your panties. You're already a glistening mess, and you whimper as he looks you up and down.

"Shit, honey,” he says, eyes widening as he surveys the area. “You really missed me, huh?”

“I did, I did, I really did, baby,” you mewl, groaning at the sight of him finally removing his shirt. You drink the sight of him in, looking at several new scars and cuts upon his chest and arms. Kneeling down in front of you, his hands on your thighs, he slowly pushes his tongue through your folds, moaning as he does so. “Taste even better than I remember, sweet girl.” Your hands find their way back into his hair, tugging lightly every time he hits the right spots. Just as you're about to reach your peak, he slips a finger inside you, the come hither motion toppling you over the edge. He laps up your release with a moan, your grip released from his curls. 

Before you can even come down from your high, he's lifting you up again, wrapping your legs around him as he carries you upstairs. It's a struggle to get the bedroom door open as he insists on still holding you there, the both of you breaking into laughter as you fight with the doorknob. 

“These damn old British houses,” he laughs, resigning to putting you down and forcing his way in. You take him by the hand and pull him into the room, your hands ending up on either side of his neck to pull him into a kiss. Trailing down his body, you stroke at the bulge in his slacks, causing him to moan into your mouth. 

“Your turn, Major,” you whisper, kneeling down in front of him.

“Oh, God…” his voice trails off at the sight of you unbuttoning his pants, freeing his length from his underwear. Collecting the beads of moisture with your thumb that have appeared at the pretty pink tip, you stroke him, seeing his eyes roll back into his head before taking him into your mouth. He moans at the sensation of your tongue working its way around him, breathing heavily within moments. He puts his hand at the back of your head to keep the rhythm he enjoys most, his eyes remaining closed in heavenly ecstasy. You look up at him, somehow smiling with your mouth full, heat building in your stomach at the sight of this beautiful man about to lose his mind because of you.

His hands untangle from your hair, and begin to stroke your face, pushing your chin away from him. “On the bed, babydoll,” he says, out of breath, cheeks flushed and pupils blown. “I need to be inside you.” 

As you lay there, waiting, you catch sight of his behind in your vanity mirror, the slightly faded tan of his peachy butt a delicious view. His strong thighs, the backs of his equally strong arms and that wonderful back of his turn you on even more than you already are, from what was it he once said? ‘Piloting a school bus like a fighter jet.’

“Are you ogling me, Y/N?” he teases, a playful grin on his lips 

“Yes, Major. Yes, I am.” You smile back, winking at him. He hurriedly plants a kiss on your nose, still smiling. 

“God, I love you.”

“I love you, too, darling. Now, please,” you moan, pulling him closer by hooking your finger on the chain of his dog tag. “Please fuck me.” His eyes widen at your request, biting his lip as he lines himself up at your entrance.

“Yes, ma'am.” 

Both sighing - all that pent up frustration being released - as he enters you, he gives you a minute to adjust to him. You grip the curls on the back of his neck as he begins to pump in and out of you, noses touching, breaths mingling. 

“Fuck, honey,” he pants. “You feel so good. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, sweet boy. More than you'll ever know.” 

Within minutes, you reach your second orgasm of the day, him murmuring praise as he watches you ride it out. “There you go, pretty girl,” he mumbles into your skin. “Told you I'd take care of you.” He begins to kiss your neck as his thrusts become sloppier, spilling into you moments later. Breaths shaking, he pulls out of you and you whine at the emptiness. He rushes to the bathroom to clean off, bringing a warm wet washcloth for you. 

You pull the duvet back and pat the spot - his spot - on the bed beside you. Before you've even finished wordlessly asking, he's in the bed, pulling you on top of him to snuggle. You bury your face deep in his neck, breathing him in and never wanting to forget his scent. You kiss him repeatedly, before softly stroking and kissing the new scars on his body. 

“Sweet boy,” your voice barely above a whisper. “Darling, beautiful man.” You feel him sigh underneath you, wondering if this is the first time he's been totally relaxed in weeks. You see his eyelids begin to get heavy, his face softening at your touch. 

“Can I spend the night?” 

“My love, you don't even need to ask. I'd let you spend every night in my bed if you were able to do so.”

“I'd love that,” he sighs, as much as he can muster in his exhausted state. You slip off him and onto your own pillow.

“Hmmm…” you feel him drifting off, not before he leans over to kiss your nose, your cheeks and then your lips. 

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Rosie.” 

taglist: @sagesolsticewrites @ginabaker1666

[artsy-airhead]

finished the rosa pic c: I could probably add more to it with more time but the deadline's today so this will have to do

[yanderecookierunkingdom]

Six becomes Five

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

Contains spoilers for Episode 2 of Beast Yeast!

By the time you arrived back to the group, who were all struggling to process still the whiplash of the past half hour, the changes to the Silver Kingdom already began.

"The Faerie Cookies.." You whispered in horror, gently setting Pure Vanilla Cookie down as you finally shrunk down to your normal size. However, your old outfit stayed. "Shadow Milk Cookie.."

"Reader Cookie, you're one of the old heroes?" White Lily Cookie was the one to speak everything on everyone's mind, looking at you with confusion.

You lowered your head, shameful. "I am, yes. I'm sorry I never told any of you."

"Did you.. not want to come here?" Pure Vanilla Cookied asked, his voice softer than usual. "Is this why you were so hesitant..?"

You hesitated before nodding. "It was. But.. I knew that I couldn't let you guys go here alone."

Elder Faeire Cookie narrowed his eyes the smallest bit. "That is why you seemed so familiar. You've done a good job at hiding who you once were."

"My days as Sparkling Joy Cookie are over," you declared.

"But it has a nice ring.." Gingerbrave muttered as the group began forward.

As you began traversing through the now twisted kingdom, the inhabitants of the Silver Kingdom now jesters and clowns. Doing tricks, and seemingly not noticing anyone. Silverbell Cookie was particularly distraught, but Mercurial Knight Cookie made sure to help him stay focused.

It wasn't long, however, until Pure Vanils Cookie stumbled and placed a hand to his head. "Ah..!!!"

"Pure Vanilla Cookie?!" Your attention snapped to him in and instant, and the group halted. Your hands gently grasped his shoulders.

"Pure Vanilla Cookie... Are you alright...?!" White Lily Cookie gasped.

"I'm... alright.." He assured the both of you, leaning heavily against you. "Just a bit dazed, that's all.."

You hardly believed him, not with how his Soul Jam was pulsing. You eyed it warily, but decided not to say anything for the moment.

"If you're sure." You placed a hand to his back in comfort. He smiled gratefully.

"Well then, let's see.." A familiar voice chortled, and your jam ran cold. "I said hello to Pure Vanilla Cookie... That's one."

"Some Faeries... Two. Some teeny-tiny Cookies... Three."

Your scepter reformed in your hand, and you placed your arm in front of Pure Vanilla Cookie in a protective gesture. The rest of the group all quickly entered defensive positions.

"What's the next number? Six?" You could hear the grin in Shadow Milk Cookie's voice. "Oh! He he he! Seems like there's a special someone missing!"

"NO! Where is he? Where did he go? Aww, I was sure he'd be the first one to greet me when I'm free!"

You hardly paid attention to what was being said next, not even the outburst of Shadow Milk Cookie. You were too focused on figuring out just what your former friend's plan was. He had done something to Pure Vanilla, and you had no doubt about it. He always had an affinity for plays too.

It hit you like a train.

"He's going to put on a play." You spoke, and just as you realized, a giant stage appeared.

"Huh?! A giant stage?!" Gingerbrave gasped.

"What is he planning...?!" White Lily Cookie narrowed her eyes.

"Now...! Once upon a time, there were six amazing Cookies! Truly brilliant!"

Puppets of the Five Beasts and you popped up. While the Five Beasts were silhouettes, yours was completely colored in, with many details.

What stood out was the large and beautiful wings on your back, almost like a butterfly's. Your hair was long and sparkling, trailing off into mist at the ends. Your expression was full of joy, a wide smile on your face. A silver crown was drawn atop on your head, ordained with small gems, the colors of the other Beasts. Around your neck hung your petal-esque Soul Jam, sparkles surrounding it.

"However, there was one Cookie who was truly radiant and loving like no other! Sparkling Joy Cookie!"

The other puppets disappeared as your sole one remained. Rays resembling sunbeams danced around you, as did your puppet danced around.

"Sparkling Joy Cookie was perfect in every way! They loved and they loved like no other, bringing joy to the little common Cookies of the world."

"However.. this love wasn't without its price, no no!"

Your puppet flew down and then came back up. It showed you on your knees, weeping. A large, grand, and quiet frankly scary puppet of a Witch appeared, her hands hovering over you.

"The Witches saw this kindness, and when the other five brilliant Cookies began to have their fun, they turned Sparkling Joy Cookie AGAINST THEIR TRUE LOVED ONES!!"

The outburst only made Gingerbrave's group flinch back, and you had a horrified look on your face.

"Ahem.. Apologies for that! Now, where were we.. Ah, yes!"

The puppets flipped, and their side profiles faced the audience now.

"Sparkling Joy Cookie was very resistant to the Witches' manipulation at first! 'No!' They cried. 'I won't! They've done nothing wrong. They're pure still!' But.."

The puppets changed, showing the Witch covering the puppet's eyes with her hands. "Sparkling Joy Cookie was only so strong.. and they fell to the whim of their creators.. aiding in the capture of their friends.."

You softened a bit, hearing how.. somber Shadow Milk Cookie was. As if he was truly saddened.

"And soon after, a tree was planted, and a foolish king rose to power.."

The stage vanished, as did the audience, and your group pressed forward.

"Reader Cookie, was what he said true?" Silverbell Cookie asked, his voice soft as he shot away some advancing puppets.

"Partly." You narrowed your eyes. "I was friends with them, once upon a time. I did help the Witches imprison them, but.. it was of my own will."

A new stage appeared, and a new puppet appeared, called the Fool-King. It wasn't hard to see how that was meant to represent. You tuned out that part until Gingerbrave asked Pure Vanilla if he was alright.

At his insistence that he was fine, White Lily Cookie shook her head. "Tell us... What did Shadow Milk Cookie tell you earlier...?"

With that, Pure Vanilla Cookie began to appear more frazzled. "He.. disguised himself as the Light of Truth. And spoke to me from the Dark Side of the Moon..."

You froze at that, your heart practically stilling. Shadow Milk Cookie.. could reach Pure Vanilla Cookie. He could try and lie to him.

Don't tell me you're just going to let that happen?

The familiar sound of your voice, if not a little more mature, tsked at you.

Some compassion you are, letting him suffer. Share me with him!

"Wh.. you can't be serious!" You whispered softly, your eyes wide. "That's too dangerous. What if Shadow Milk Cookie tries to corrupt us?"

I'm stronger than that, and so are you. Share me with him.

You bit your bottom lip, and Pure Vanilla Cookie rested a hand on your shoulder. "Reader Cookie?" He asked. "Are you alright-?"

He cut himself off when you spun to look at him and gently grabbed his hands. Your Soul Jam pulsed and a magic whipped out, forming a large bubble around the entire group.

"Huh?! Reader Cookie?!" Wizard Cookie clutched his staff.

Elder Faeire Cookie looked shocked. "This magic.."

You exhaled softly, and you resumed your old appearance once more. However, your wings were now visible, spread wide and grand.

"I have an idea on how to help you," you spoke, voice soft. "My only question is.. do you-"

"Yes." Pure Vanilla Cookie spoke, his voice soft and full of admiration. You blushed intensely. "I trust you, Reader Cookie."

You nodded and closed your eyes. You leaned forward and pressed your forehead against his. "Then stay calm.. and open your heart to me."

Familiar magic, radiant and ever-changing in color, began to swirl around you two. Your Soul Jam was glowing particularly bright. Your wings gently glistened in the light, and your hair grew to the length it once was.

A familiar light form from the magic. It zipped and swirled around, your laughter coming from it.

Oh, what love! What compassion!

With what sounded like a joyful laugh, it zipped over to the duo, spun around them, and then shot towards Pure Vanilla Cookie's Soul Jam.

The magic died down, and you let out an exhale. Then, you began to laugh softly. "That.. that worked! I didn't think it would..!"

"What was that?!" Wizard Cookie shouted, and you blushed sheepishly.

"I'm sure you saw that light.. that was the Light of Compassion in its purest form." You explained. Your form slowly began to shift back to the regular one you used. "It insisted that I share it with Pure Vanilla Cookie."

Said Cookie spared a glance at his Soul Jam, and there was a small petal pattern in the middle.

White Lily Cookie couldn't help a small smile. "It did mention something about love.."

"HAHA WHAT?" You laughed nervously. The barrier around the group fell, and you immediately rushed forward. "C'MON GUYS, LET'S GO GET SHADOW MILK COOKIE!"

Small bits of laughter came from the group, and Pure Vanilla Cookie felt a little lighter as he followed.

Well, hello there! What joy and love you hold in your heart..

The sound of your voice, yet more mature, echoed through his mind. Yet, as if like second nature, Pure Vanilla Cookie knew that it was the Light of Compassion.

Whenever that Shadow Milk Cookie comes back, trying to trick you, focus on me or Sparkling Joy Cookie, Pure Vanilla Cookie. We won't let him lead you astray!

"What you said.." He whispered softly. "About love. Did you mean it?"

Of course. It sounded almost amused. I do believe that you're the only one Sparkling Joy Cookie would show the full extent of their power to.

Pure Vanilla Cookie couldn't help but feel honored.

But, of course, that didn't last long.

Especially not when Elder Faeire Cookie was struck down.

taglist: @snail-noodle @average-crk-enjoyer @looking4userthatworks @ori-stole-the-cheese-again @sqiddgie @justalittledumb @ax0lotly @ihatemyselffromthestart-blog

CLIFFHANGERRR!!

[tkpuke]

Sweet Tranquility

Pairing -Lee!Lucifer x Gender Neutral Reader

Word count - 1,293

In which Lucifer seems to be falling back into the unhealthy obsession of creating rubber ducks, which takes a toll on his sleep schedule and your relationship. You’re the only one who knows him best, so you pull out a trick that gets him to calm down and feel loved all at the same time.

This is a tickle fic. Do not read if that’s not your thing.

The clock was nearing 2 AM, rain being heard pitter-pattering on the window. It was another restless night for you, tossing and turning in your sleep to find that perfect comfy position that’ll knock you out. In the middle of your tossing and turning, you mindlessly search for Lucifer, something to hold and cuddle into since you begin to shiver a bit.

A few seconds go by, and you open your eyes to see he was yet again, not in bed. You sigh, but more in annoyance, knowing this is the third night in a row where he hasn’t been in bed, leaving you all alone. In the morning you’ve tried asking him what he’s been doing awake so late, and he eases your worries by saying he had only gone to use the bathroom. You never went out to go see for yourself, wanting to believe him. However, this night you had a gut feeling you should go search for him. Because unless he has a weird bathroom schedule he didn’t tell you about, you’re starting to call bullshit on him going off to use it every night around 2 AM, and he doesn’t even come back until an hour or two go by.

You treaded quietly down the hall, seeing if you could hear where exactly he was at. Your ears picked up on slight noise coming from the living room, and when you got a little closer you saw light shining from there. As you peeked your head in, that’s when you saw Lucifer sitting down near the coffee table, focusing on painting a rubber duck. Beside him seemed to be twenty more jumbled together, all in different colorful outfits and top hats.

“Lucy?” You called out, causing him to jump slightly from not expecting you to be awake. He immediately starts stuttering, searching for an explanation. “Oh! Y/N- I uhh- haha was just uhm..” His eyes dart around the room, fixing onto the huge grandfather clock that touches up the living room just perfectly, cluttering all the ducks under the rug as if you haven’t spotted them already.

“..I was on my way to the bathroom, per usual! As I noticed this beautiful babe of a clock we have here.” He rubs his chin in thought, looking over his shoulder at you. “Did you know we always had this?” Lucifer nervously laughs, the stutter making its appearance again when you gave him eyes of worry. “In the- er uh- house we’ve been practically living in for many years…”

All you did in response was take his hand into yours, the other finding its way to caress his cheek and then he broke.

“Fuck, I’m sorry Y/N. I promised it wouldn’t get this bad again, and I… well- I’m just so-“ you bring him into a hug to shush him, rubbing his back comfortingly. “Hey, we don’t have to talk about this right now. Let’s just go back to bed, okay?”

Lucifer nodded as you two walked back, hands interlocked. Getting into bed at the same time, moving around into a comfy position and settling with facing each other as your heads slightly bump together. Silence fills the room, almost passing out right then and there until you hear some shuffling.

You try to ignore it, assuming Lucifer wasn’t comfortable enough and was moving a little bit. Although the shuffling continued, making you sit up and look down at him. “Is everything alright?”

“I can’t sleep.” He says with a huff, staring up at the ceiling defeatedly.

This wasn’t your first rodeo where Lucifer couldn’t have sleep fall upon him. He always struggled becoming tired at the appropriate time, so it led you to come up with some ideas to help him.

“Do you want me to make you a hot drink?” You first suggested, something that always helps you knockout yourself. Lucifer shook his head, letting out a sigh. “No, that won’t do.”

“A massage, maybe?”

“Those never work.”

“How about watching a little bit of Tv?”

“We’ll accidentally stay up all night if we do that.”

You sit back on the bed headrest, forgetting how difficult he could be. It was like taking care of a child rather than your significant other.

That was until a lightbulb suddenly shined in your mind, a smile slowly forming, one he couldn’t see from how dark the room is, the city lights barely shining through the curtains to make some sort of visibility.

“Actually, I think I know what might do the trick.” The sound of your voice sounded more mischievous than comforting, which caused Lucifer to look over but let out a yelp of surprise from you straddling his waist in a quick second.

“What are you doing— H-HEHEY!” His question got cut off with a strangled giggle, your hands finding their way up to his underarms, going straight for the kill so soon.

As funny as it sounds, tickling was one of what seems like the only methods that helped tired out Lucifer. You can’t remember how exactly you stumbled upon this discovery, but what you do know is how he never complains because he secretly enjoys the thrill of it all. You tried getting him to admit it at one point, but you didn’t get far.

“Nohoho, wait! Wait!” Lucifer snapped his arms down but at the same time trying to grab at your wrists, but he didn’t pull them away. You both knew he had the strength to do so, but you’ll never comment on why he never does. The reason was clear as day.

No matter how many ‘please!’s or ‘stop!’s he throws at you, it all meant the opposite. “Y’know, times like these it makes it hard to believe you’re the ruler of Hell.” You teased, digging in his underarms a little deeper to pull out that snort he does. You weren’t left disappointed, him snorting as his hair becomes more unraveled with each shake of his head.

“I’ll shohow you once I’m FREHEHEE!” A squeal escapes him the minute you latch onto his thighs, the spot you go to when he gets snippy. Fingers find their way to his inner thighs, squeezing in a fast pace. “Lets see if you have enough energy once we’re finished, yeah?” You scoffed, almost nearly getting bucked off but you still had a firm grip on his thighs.

Thighs would be rank one for one of his most ticklish spots, his underarms being a close second. It takes only a few seconds for his laughter to become hoarse and silent, which has already happened, causing you to go slow and skitter your nails around his neck. You smiled at the sight of his cheeks becoming a more vibrant shade of red than it usually is, being a giggly mess and trying to trap your fingers under his chin.

“Ohohokay, I’ll sleheheep! I’m tired! I swehear!” He desperately pleas. His breathless state was convincing enough, but if there’s one thing you learned from all the times Lucifer tickled you, it was to be a little shit.

“Hmm, are you sure?” You left pokes all around his stomach, watching each poke earning you quiet giggles. He moves his hands away from your wrists up to your hands, and you let him. “Yehes, now leave me alohone.” You planted a kiss on his cheek, finally moving off of him. “Never.”

You tucked yourself back in bed, looking over to realize he is still giggling. “You do know I stopped, right?”

“Shut the hell up.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “It worked though. You can barely keep your eyes open now.”

Lucifer moved to lay on his side, a hand caressing your cheek. “It did, thank you.”

“I love you.”

[taska-rokanh]

Snowkissed - Crosshair x Reader

Found this in my drafts and thought it was pretty cute!

Don't forget that requests are open!

Warnings: Low self-esteem, mentions of former imprisonment, emotional constipation

Word Count: 1.2 k

Crosshair was not nervous. Crosshair didn’t get nervous, no matter what bantha fodder Tech spouted about his heart rate. You were meeting him—you were meeting the five of them in the cantina like you always did, it was like any other weekend, with just one small adjustment. There was nothing to be nervous about. 

“You’re still looking a bit pale, Cross,” Hunter mumbled to him, probably trying to be helpful or something of the sort. 

“That’s what happens when you’re trapped in a mountain for months on end,” he growled. 

“Given that I’ve regained full consciousness and faculties since our rescue, I doubt you can still use that excuse plausibly,” Tech offered, completely unhelpfully.

“Yeah! What he said!” Wrecker agreed gleefully.

Crosshair only kicked them both under the table as he saw you walk in.  “Hey everyone! How’re you all doing?”

“Well, thank you,” Echo replied politely, taking a sip of whatever that stuff was he always drank. The others chimed in briefly, leaving Crosshair the only one who didn’t really say much of anything. Such was normally the case. 

You wedged yourself into the booth on the other side of Tech. Crosshair told himself it made sense. You were better able to keep in line with the table, and this way each side of the table had a lined up set of three. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that you were next to Tech and across from Echo, the ones who were always the best at holding your attention. It seemed like the three of you could talk for hours without an awkward lull. Except for when he came around.

Kriff. He was about to get up and let you alone to your fun, when—

“You’re looking good, Tech. You too, Cross!” 

He hoped he was still pale and not, well, blushing. “Thanks.”

“You’ve been recovering so nicely! Getting color back, getting muscle back. I’m so proud of you two!”

Crosshair told himself you were just trying not to leave him out. Just being nice. Because who was nicer than you? Who was kinder, sweeter, more generous with their time and attention than you? “We were just discussing that. I believe—” Tech was already locked and loaded with his latest spiel. Crosshair wouldn’t stop him. How could he?

He left the table without a word. 

Tech noticed the moment your gaze left his face. It wasn’t too long after he had felt Crosshair’s absence on his left. “Is he… okay?”

Tech sighed good-naturedly. He had been watching the two of you clumsily waltz around each other for far too long. You were a good actor, excellent at playing at nonchalance when he knew all you wanted was to be as close to his ram’ser brother as possible. Crosshair, less so, but you were so concerned with your own performance it was difficult for you to notice. “It might be helpful for you to go check on him. I believe he is… struggling, tonight. He could use someone with your level of interpersonal aptitude.”

“Excuse me, then, please,” you said with a small grimace, your brow furrowed. Echo gladly made room for you before shooting Tech a knowing glance. Hunter and Wrecker were kind enough to keep up their ruse of ignorance and continue to converse. 

“Cross? Is everything alright?” You found him in the alley behind the cantina. It was a safer place than most areas in the galaxy you had visited, but you felt especially safe knowing that Crosshair was right there. He had that effect on you. 

You tucked your cold hands into your armpits to protect them from the cold as you approached him. 

“I’m fine. You should go back inside, it’s cold.”

When you didn’t budge, he tried again. “You looked like you were in the middle of something with Tech. Don’t let me interrupt you.”

“Tech will be fine. What’s up?”

His hazel eyes lingered on your face for a long moment before he looked up at the sky. “Why is this so difficult?” He muttered, unsure if you could hear him.

“Talking about your feelings is always difficult,” you commented, and for a moment, he wondered if you knew how close you were treading to the subject at hand. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not worth it. What’s bothering you Cross, please? I promise that my lips are sealed to anyone else.”

He didn’t say anything. Why was it always so hard to just say something?

“I like your jacket,” you switched tactics after a few moments, plucking lightly at the elastic wristband of the leather jacket. He had always marvelled at how easily you complimented other people, and it always felt so genuine. And now you were millimeters away from actually touching him, separated by nothing but his wristband and the thin fabric of his gloves. He had half a mind to take them off, but moving to do so would surely scare you off. This closeness was enough.

“What’s it like to love someone?” He asked suddenly, and the question was so startling that your hand froze, still hovering over his. 

“Wha—you mean, romantically?”

He nodded tersely.

You tittered nervously, and he noticed a blush spreading across your cheeks. He had to fight a smile at the sight. “Well, I wouldn’t be the best source of information on that subject, it’s not like I’ve been in many relationships or anything like that, but… I guess it feels like finding your other half. Someone that makes you feel ten times better just by being around, you know? Someone that you can’t stop thinking about, where, even when you’re not trying to, just looking at or hearing the right thing brings everything right back to them.” You didn’t look at him as you spoke—you normally did—your eyes focussed on the little pilings of lint on his glove.

“Like that song they played at the store yesterday,” He said. You glanced up at him briefly, his gaze still on the stars. 

“What song was it?”

“I don’t remember the name,” he admitted. “All I know is that I thought I wasn’t thinking a thing, and then that song came on, and suddenly I realized everything I was doing was for you.” He finally made eye contact with you. “We have your favorite cookies at home, by the way. If I hid them from Wrecker well enough.”

Your eyes were wide and awestruck, unable to look anywhere but him.

Crosshair wasn’t sure if he should laugh or cry the longer your silence went on. “Cat got your tongue?” He said as a default, hoping to shake you from your stupor so you could at least reject him outright.

You shook your head lightly, blushing more deeply with a breathy laugh. “Sorry. I just wasn’t expecting you to feel the same, and I—”

He cut you off by pressing his lips gently to yours, turning to take your hands in his. He still wished he had taken his gloves off, but this was good enough for now. He pulled back after a few seconds—best not to smother you—and looked at you anxiously for your approval. He hoped your nervous smile was a good sign. 

“Is that what was bothering you?”

“For a while, yeah.”

“Will it work to kiss it better?”

“We can try.”

[shatterinseconds]

“So you’re bisexual.”

Lance rolls his eyes at Keith’s statement, saying in pure exasperation, “Yes. Obviously.” 

Somehow Keith, out of everybody Lance has ever known, including his family back on Earth and his new family here on the castle-ship, is the last to know. Lance doesn’t quite get it since he has flirted with alien species of all different genders since they got trapped in space. But then again, this is Keith and he still has a mullet, as if Earth is stuck in the late twentieth century, so he clearly catches onto things at a snail’s pace.

“And you’ve had a crush on me this entire time?” This time Keith phrases it as a question, a slight heistance to his voice that Lance isn’t sure what to make of it. Whether it’s annoyance or hopefulness. There are only two things it could be. His arms are crossed, hands tightly clutching his biceps—it’s not that inspiring but Lance soldiers on. No getting out of it now; not after…  

“I don’t kiss people for the fun of it—I mean I do, but with meaning. Not on impulse.” Lance waves his hand as he struggles to explain. “You get it.”

“I really don’t.” But Keith says it with a smile this time, trying to contain a laugh and that makes Lance start to grin, a weight on his heart easing. “It was still pretty impulsive.”

“Sue me. You were the one who asked me to dance,” Lance bites back. His skin heats though the redness is thankfully concealed by his brown skin. 

It was a typical gala event, hosted by the alien species they had saved that day. Nothing special. Nothing unordinary besides Keith standing next to him, extending a hand in a silent question. When they had entered the dance floor, almost as if on queue, the crystal lighting shifted to a soft lavender, dosing both of them in a glow of starlight.

Keith’s touch had been so gentle, so warm. Lance didn’t even mind that they lost the rhythm to the dance too many times to count, Keith wholly uncoordinated.  

“You always complain about never having a partner,” Keith argues in response. His pale skin starts to color red, first his cheeks then his ears. Lance loves it.

“You hate dancing though.”

“I do,” Keith admits, only to surprise Lance by adding, “But you make it fun.”

Lance sucks in a sharp breath. He leans against the corridor wall, taking a moment to close his eyes and concentrate on the coolness of the metal. “Did you want me to kiss you?” he finds himself asking, a bit hesitant, as he opens his eyes again. 

Keith had cupped his face right as the music started to change into a different melody. His fingers twisted into the hair at the nape of Lance’s neck, thumb brushing his cheekbone. They had stared at each other as if in a trance, fully stopped on the dance floor while everyone else twirled around them unknowing.

Keith licks his lips, nodding to Lance’s question as he ducks his head. “Yeah, yeah I did,” he answers quietly. Then his dark violet eyes flick up to Lance’s face. “Just didn’t think you’d feel the same.”

Part of Lance can’t believe this is happening—that Keith would ever be interested in him. But here they are. He chuckles a little, unable to contain the spark of giddiness catching at his heart. “I’ll be more obvious with my flirting next time,” Lance says. He takes a step forward, making sure Keith’s attention remains set on him, and gently rests his hands on Keith’s hips, fingers catching onto his belt loops. “For instance: Keith Kogane, you are the most captivating person I have ever met. I’d love to take you on a date sometime.”

Keith leans in, grabbing onto Lance’s shirt to pull him closer, and kisses him square on the mouth. Their lips part and Lance follows Keith’s lead, caught in the push and pull and Keith’s quiet laugh reverberating against his open mouth. Keith breaks the kiss no more than a few seconds later, but a pleased smile sits on his face. “Alright, loverboy. Pick me up at seven. Don’t be late.”

[watermelonlovershigh]

Makeup💄/blurb/

AN: here's a little surprise blurb i've wrote. i hope you like this concept and enjoy reading. keep in mind the harry in this isn't our famous harry so any talks of his sexuality is fake for the story. it's also kinda short but still worth the read. xoxo

This stories contains: talks of breaking gender norms, talks of fluid sexuality, fluff

{ boyfriendrry - soft!harry - any harry era of your choice - au harry }

word count- 791

As Harry watches you do your makeup for a night out, he finally shares his desire to wear makeup too when you gently coax it out of him.

You were sitting at your vanity doing your makeup while your boyfriend Harry sat on the edge of the bed watching you. You were going out to a local club tonight and wanted to dress sexy for the occasion.

When you began to apply some silver glitter over the tops of your pink eyelids, you notice Harry shifting closer to you, as if he's really studying how you apply your products. You've noticed a few times now that when you're doing your makeup around Harry, he always watches you closely and you find it quite adorable.

But this time, as you glance to the side and look at your boyfriend, he seems nervous. Fiddling with his ringed fingers and moving his mouth like he's wanting to say something but can't find the words.

"Is something wrong, H?" you question carefully.

Harry hesitates before stuttering, "Um, it's just, um. Nevermind actually."

You stop doing your makeup completely so he has your undivided attention and take a wild guess as to what he's wanting to say, or more so, ask. "Harry, by any chance did you want me to put some makeup on you? Because if you did want to wear some, that's fine."

Relief washes over him when you guess correctly. For a while now Harry's had this want to try out and wear some makeup. Not everyday or just anywhere. But to the club or a party, he would fancy a little color and sparkle to his face. He's just been afraid to ask because he was scared you'd judge him.

Nodding his head, Harry replies, "Yes please."

His answer has a soft smile take over your face. You stand up from your vanity chair and walk over until you're stood in front of Harry's legs. "Baby, why didn't you tell me you wanted to wear some makeup? I wouldn't have cared. I think you'd look fantastic with a bit of shimmer on your eyes and rouge on your cheeks."

Looking up, Harry answers sadly, "It's just, I thought you'd judge me. I know anyone can wear makeup and it's not just for girls but, I didn't know if you thought that way. I only fancy wearin' some when we go out on the towns. Not everyday or anythin'."

"That's fine, Harry," you began, "I'd never judge you for wanting to wear makeup sometimes. And you're right, makeup is not just for the girls and the gays. Anyone can wear makeup if they want, okay."

Giggling, Harry says back, "Okay, but I am a little gay aren't I...."

You can't help but giggle back at his words. What he means is that his sexuality is fluid and he told you early on in your relationship that he wasn't straight. Harry was equally as nervous to disclose his sexaulity to you as he was minutes ago, admitting he would like to wear some makeup. But you knew him wanting to wear makeup had nothing to do with his sexuality. Unlike what stereotypes have you believe.

"Alright, go sit on my vanity chair and pick out what color of eyeshadow you want to wear. And pick out a glitter if you want a touch of that as well." Harry listens to your instructions and picks out the colors and shimmers he'd enjoy wearing tonight.

He chose a bright blue for his lids because he said it would pair well with his outfit. Then requested just a small dusting of your silver glitter to complement the blue shadow. You stood in front of Harry and he relaxed as you took your brushes and did your magic.

To pull this look together, you add a little mascara and some coal liner in his waterline. Then apply a clear lip gloss over his perfectly shaped lips. Harry struggled a bit when you applied the mascara, saying it felt like you were poking his eye out. And when you were finished, he kept blinking, not quit use to having eye makeup on.

"Okay, all done." you announce with a clap. "Did you want anything on your face like foundation or concealer or just this for now?"

Harry studies his face in the mirror ahead and decides, "This is all f'now. Wow, do I look stunnin'. Thank you, m'love. And thank you for not judgin' me."

Looking down at his face slightly, you reply, "Of course, H. I'd never judge you. You can wear all the makeup you want. Or if you ever fancy wearing a dress or heels, I'd never judge you for that either."

Smiling, Harry responds, "Only time I've ever had the desire to wear a dress and heels is maybe for a Halloween costume. But if that changes, I'll let you know."

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

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______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

[felice-jaganshi]

My Fallen Apple

Lucifer X Reader

Chapter 6

You moved into hell, giving your friend Zariah a heads-up, and swearing her to secrecy. The next few weeks were a blur of fun as you got to re-meet all the Sins and visit their rings in more depth. Each of them seemed intent on trying to help you and Lucifer get closer, except for Mammon. But the more you got to know of that guy, the more you hated him, so that didn't bother you really. 

 

A few months later, you were about to enter his workshop when you heard him talking to himself again.

“Daughter calling?! She hasn't called you in months! This has to be perfect…”

You decided to just wait outside and listen… and wow was he struggling. But in the end-

“My daughter wants to see me~~ take THAT depression!” It seemed it worked out after all. Good, you were happy for him. And maybe this meant you could finally meet her too! You knock on the door and he answers,

“Becca! You won't believe what just happened!” He's grinning ear to ear.

You smile and humor him, “What is it?”

 

“My daughter called! She wants to see me!” He's bouncing in place, and you laugh.

“That's wonderful Luci goosey!”

He blushes at the nickname, “Will you come with me? I… I'm afraid I'll fuck it up if i go alone.” 

 

“Of course, I'd love to. I said before I'll always stand by your side. I meant it.” You smile warmly, internally screaming your victory. His eyes light up and he screams his victory externally.

________

 

You go with him to the hotel, and oh wow is it crazy and colorful! He introduces you to Charlie right after practically crushing Vaggie in a hug.

“Oh, that reminds me, Charlie, meet my new friend, Becca! She's been keeping me company the last few months.” He motions to you, and you wave politely, feeling a little nervous.

 

“Hi Charlie, it's nice to finally meet you. He's told me alot about you.” 

Charlie immediately looks you over with big shocked eyes. “New ‘friend’ huh? It's nice to meet you.” She offers you a handshake, but you can tell she's unsure how to feel about you. 

 

You shake her hand, “Yes, friend. And I'm hoping you and I will be friends too. I have something I'd like to talk to you about in private later if we can?” 

“Uh, sure. Let me finish introducing everyone now.”

______

 

The duet the two shared was so sweet, it made you tear up and cry a little. After, Charlie pulled you aside, “Hey, so… You and my dad… are you really just friends?” shit, here we go!

 

“Well, yes but… I really like him alot… is that okay?” You're nervous, she's literally his everything! Whether she likes you or not is the make or break of your relationship. 

 

“I see… Do you treat him right? He needs a lot of attention.”

You nod, “Absolutely! I really love him, Charlie. I want him to be happy… I don't want to replace your mom, but I hope I can get your blessing to try dating him, and maybe you and I can be friends?” You put all your sincerity into those words, hoping she can see you for who you really are.

 

She gives you a once over, silently thinking… before pulling you into a tight hug. “Okay… I'll have a talk with him about mom. You have my blessing.” she then pulls back, holding your shoulders. “You came to me with respect, honesty, and genuine love. Just don't hurt my dad, ever. Don't make me regret trusting you.” She looked serious. 

 

“I'd never hurt him on purpose. He's the best thing to happen to me since I died.” Tears start to fall from your eyes.

Charlie tries to wipe them away with a soft smile, “I believe you.”

She gives you another, softer hug. “Alright, I'm going to talk to dad about this. You just sit tight.”

_____

 

You know you shouldn't eavesdrop, it's rude… but it has to do with you, so maybe you have a right to know? That's what you tell yourself anyways. And on the other side of that door, Charlie is trying to convince her dad that Lilith isn't coming back. You hear yelling, and crying from both of them, and you feel terrible. You're not really able to make out any of the words for the most part, as you're still trying to keep enough distance to not get caught.

 

Eventually the door opens and you're ducking round the corner. “Alright… if that's what you think… I'll consider your words. Now I need to go ring up your uncle Michael. Or Gabriel might be better, they're more likely to actually answer… either way…” He didn't sound thrilled about that talk.

 

He then went looking for you, “Becca! Where'd you run off to? It's time to go home!”

You decided to sneak back to the lobby and hang out with that pink spider at the bar till Lucifer is close enough to find you, to pretend that's where you were this whole time.

 

The bartender raises an eyebrow, “So, what's a noble like you usually drink?”

 

“Huh? Oh no. I'm not a noble, I just kinda crashed into his garden and he decided to keep me.” You chuckle lightly.

 

“Crashed into my garden and nearly took out my rosebush!” Lucifer said, suddenly throwing an arm around your shoulders. “I've been looking everywhere for you. Are you ready to head out, or still making friends?”

You blush a little at the casual touch. He must be feeling bad, you discovered he gets more touchy and cuddly when his depression starts to creep up on him. So you place a hand on the one around your shoulder and hold it as you smile at him, “We can head out now if you've had enough.”

He smiles warmly at you, appreciating your acknowledgement of his lack of social energy. And with that, you both head home to rest and cuddle, as friends.

 

For now…

[cho-aaacho]

—Sugar Coating

Masterlist

Summary : All of these times, Choso always treated you like a dependable friend—sharing seven colors with him and standing in the same clouds. Yet he seems oblivious to your deeper feelings. So you try to do something.

"So, do you prefer mountains or beaches?" 

"Choso-kun?"

"I'm planning to ask you on vacation, summer holidays, I guess? So... maybe, it would be nice if I invited you. My brothers will be happy too."

You place the fish food on the table and gaze at Choso for a moment. He was just there, sitting on the table while revealing a gentle smile. He was so calm, to be honest, you could see from those eyes. Something rare for him to show.

"Um... maybe mountains?"

It's rather uncommon for Choso to extend invitations, given his preference for spending quality time with his brothers and the bandmates from his music group. 

With you, he consistently drowned himself in college projects, building walls that seemed to keep any romantic connection between your eyes and his heart.

Honestly, it's a bit frustrating; he treats you like a friend, only a friend. Treating you like someone dependable, someone who cares about him and his brothers. Yet, why does he still have no idea about your kindness?

Day by day, night by night, as you share warm smiles and laughter with him, something within you blooms. It's odd but undeniably overwhelming.

He nods and exchanges smiles, musing. "Mountains? Alright... so, mountains, huh?"

He glides closer, a gentle smile on his lips wrapping you in his gentleness, enveloping your presence alongside Choso's.

Standing by your side, he lovingly touches the aquarium with his nail. His reflection is cast upon the glass, eyes tracked on the fish, following its beautiful golden scales.

"You are always in this place whenever you feel down, don't you? Are you alright? You come here about three times a week, you worry about me."

A silence falls between you and him, affirming Choso's astute observation. 

You came here practically every day to clear your mind. This was an abandoned room at the university that Yuuji transformed into a refreshing chamber with a large aquarium, claiming that it would aid his bandmates and you in revitalizing the struggle.

You love the atmosphere here, the blend of his warmth and coolness, and you love spending your time with Choso here. 

This room was your place whenever your sadness or loneliness flooded in, finding the comfort side in Choso's company that filled your longing and sorrow.

You chuckle. "Um..., Choso-kun is right. I've been thinking about something lately, but it's a bit difficult to put into words."

He nodded. "Oh... I'm always here to help you; that's why I've come to ask you to—"

You clear your throat and interrupt him by saying, "Choso-kun, we're both adults, right? So... I believe you understand that our relationship goes beyond just helping each other. It's not always about you assisting me or me assisting you. There's more to it."

He mused for a moment, blankly gazing at the aquarium. "Oh... am I late in realizing everything? I didn't intend to bring you down."

Continuing, he said, "I always thought maybe you treated me that way because you enjoy helping people. I guess I was mistaken about everything. Yuuji and Aoi joked that I was stupid, and my brothers thought I was just a coward. At first, I believed they were just teasing me."

"Until I witnessed you talking with Megumi, sharing laughter and smiles—you looked pretty there. I understand that all of your laughter and smiles weren't meant for me but for Megumi's. At that moment, I realized I was developing something for you."

Turning towards you, he delicately touched your chin with his fingertips, leaving a gentle touch on your skin. "...it's jealousy."

You are struggling to find words as he leans closer to you, planting a nice yet sweet kiss on your lips. It was only for a split second before his kiss awakened your lips.

He's so warm... 

smooth... 

...wet and cute.

You let him take the lead for a few more seconds, before finally wrapping his arms around you and pressing your body against him, staking a claim.

He giggles between the kisses as he asks, "Thank you, so... is it a yes? Will you go out with me? Do you accept my love?"

Teasingly, you responded, "You didn't even confess properly, Choso-kun. But I think... it's a yes."

[romione-trope-fest]

Title: The Storm before the Calm

Author: my-patronus-is-a-champagne-glass

Selected Trope: Weasley Weddings

Brief summary: As Ron navigates the storm of pre-wedding jitters and the playful banter of Harry and his brothers, his quest for a private moment with Hermione intensifies with each passing minute. In the end a clandestine private first look is the ultimate antidote to his jangled nerves.

Rating: G

Word count: 8,320 words

Trigger warnings: -

Ron took a deep breath as he stood in front of the mirror in his old attic bedroom. His mother had insisted he spend the night in the old creaking wooden bed. Upon arriving yesterday, the first thing he had done was ask his dad to remove two huge spiders from the ancient roofbeams.

The room felt strange, somewhat unfamiliar. The vibrant orange walls pressed in, almost suffocating him. Had they always been so vividly orange? It was a mystery how he had endured this color all these years. Ron was still a strong supporter of the Cannons, but aside from shirts to support his beloved club and his distinctive ginger hair, the color orange no longer played a significant role in his life.

He ran his fingers through his hair, as a wave of memories flooded his mind. It seemed like just yesterday that they had been planning their mission in this very room until very late in the night. The war had ended more than three years ago and today, he was about to marry the brilliant bushy-haired witch who had been his constant through it all.

As he adjusted his tie, Ron’s mind replayed their journey – all the ups and downs of the past. His love for her was a steady flame that had grown from the embers of friendship and could weather even the strongest storms of life. A tender smile played on his lips and a profound warmth spread through his chest as he imagined Hermione in a beautiful white gown.

He wanted her to be his wife more than anything, to officially start this new chapter of their lives but the nerves tugged at him and he felt his hands get sweatier and his knees grow weaker by the minute. The impending chaos of the day, the countless guests, and the grandeur of the wedding ceremony somehow felt overwhelmingly daunting. He didn’t need all this fuss, all these elaborate decorations, all these people. All he craved was her.

The more Ron stared at himself, the more the mirror seemed to reflect not only his appearance but also his internal struggle. As he stood there, looking at himself, a gentle knock on the old door disrupted his thoughts. It creaked open to reveal Harry, his jet black hair disheveled as usual, clad in a white dress shirt, black dress robes, and curiously, a pair of grey sweatpants.

Ron raised an eyebrow. “Nice outfit choice, mate.”

Harry grinned, seemingly unfazed. “Well, your mother insisted my trousers weren’t well-pressed enough,” he explained, glancing down at the sweatpants. “She practically forced me to take them off so she could iron them again.”

“She’s mental,” Ron answered and managed a weak smile, but Harry’s keen eyes swiftly caught the pallor on Ron’s face.

“Are you alright? You look a bit peaky.”

“Yeah.” Ron took a deep breath, attempting to shake off the nerves. “It’s just...you know, a bit overwhelming.”

His gaze involuntarily drifted to the window, revealing all the extravagant decorations outside, their opulence feeling suffocating rather than celebratory.

Harry’s eyes softened, and he pulled out a chair, sitting down backwards, facing his best friend.

“Do you want to, you know, talk about it or do I get you a glass of Ogden’s to calm your nerves?” Harry offered.

“No alcohol until after the ceremony. I promised Hermione that,” Ron chuckled nervously, absentmindedly fidgeting with the edges of his robes. “I just... I can’t believe it’s happening, you know?”

“But it’s good, right?” Harry asked cautiously. “I mean, you’re not getting cold - ?”

“Of course not!” Ron interrupted. “It’s just…dunno…so many people.” A wave of nausea surged through him, signaling his intensifying nerves.”I’m feeling sick.”

He let out a deep breath, as he imagined himself in the spotlight of the impending ceremony. “I never thought I’d have to deal with so many people watching me get married. It feels like I’ll be under a microscope, and every move will be dissected.”

“Welcome to my life,” Harry chuckled, and with a casual flick of his wand, a glass on the nightstand soared into his hand. Water poured gracefully from his wand into the glass, which zipped into Ron’s hand moments later.

“Have some water. You’ll be fine.”

Ron, feeling the need to move, shifted uncomfortably and began pacing the room. The old floorboards creaked under his socked feet, as he shook his head, trying to dispel the overwhelming thoughts.

“I feel like I might just pass out or something.”

Harry leaned back on the chair with an amused grin playing on his lips, his gaze following Ron’s anxious pacing.

“Have some water and try to calm down.”

With a shaky breath Ron raised his sweaty hand to his mouth and took a sip from the glass but the water only intensified the uneasy feeling in his stomach. It wasn’t that he had cold feet, quite the opposite. He couldn’t wait to call her his wife. It was more about the wedding itself. He was so worried about the ceremony, about all the prying eyes watching them, that he just wanted to get it over with.

A few years ago, he would have eagerly embraced the spotlight, having felt overshadowed by both Harry and his siblings practically all the time. However, since the war had ended, turning them into overnight celebrities, Ron wanted nothing more than to disappear whenever reporters were around. Adjusting to being featured on tabloids and magazines, especially with his relationship with Hermione handed to the public on a silver platter, had taken him a considerable amount of time.

“Bloody hell, will you stop pacing! You’re going to wear a hole in the floor,” Harry warned, attempting to be the voice of reason. “You’re making me dizzy and I haven’t even had a drink yet!”

“I can’t help it. I’m so nervous,” Ron muttered, placing the water glass he still clutched onto the nightstand.

“Why? She’d marry you in a bloody potato bag in the middle of the Forbidden Forest.”

Ron rotated his aching shoulders in a circle, attempting to alleviate the tension that clung to them. Nervously, he tugged at the cuff of his dress robes, the fabric now seeming uncomfortably tight, as if it had shrunk two sizes in the span of a moment.

“I need to see her. I can’t wait any longer. I really need to see her before. I need her or else I’ll probably faint right then and there in front of everyone and it’ll be all over the press.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Bullshit, you won’t faint. I have never heard of anyone fainting at their wedding.”

Ron shot him a look. “This is different, okay? I just...Fuck, I just need to see her. I need to make sure she’s really doing this.”

His pacing halted briefly as he stopped to rub his hands over his face.

“What if she changes her mind? I don’t know, it’s probably barmy but it’s so hard to believe that someone would willingly choose me. I just need to see her.”

Harry raised an incredulous eyebrow, his expression contorting into a weird grimace.

“Are you mental? Did you find a spare locket somewhere, and decided to wear it around your neck or something? Can you hear yourself talking?”

“I just need to know that she really wants to do this.”

“Come off it! Why the fuck wouldn’t she? You aren’t really afraid she’s getting cold feet? That’s bloody ridiculous!”

“No, yes, I…I don’t know…fuck…I don’t think so. I just…fuck…I just really want to see her.”

“If you keep pacing like this, you might just break through the bloody floor and land right in Gin’s room, where Hermione is getting ready. Maybe that’s your plan all along.”

“Does anyone feel like this right before?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “How the fuck should I know? Your stubborn sister keeps telling me she doesn’t want to marry.”

“She’ll get there.”

“Seriously, Ron. Sit down. You’ll see her soon enough, and trust me, she’s going to take your breath away. I’ve seen the dress.”

It seemed as if the whole bloody family had already seen the dress, and Ron was the only one still left in the dark. The mystery gnawed at him, intensifying his need to see her and unravel the enigma of the cryptic wedding gown that had apparently already captivated everyone’s attention. In his mind, Ron had pictured the dress a hundred times already. He was sure Hermione wouldn’t opt for a pompous ball gown. She was more likely to choose something elegant and understated, probably with a bit of lace, but devoid of unnecessary extravagance.

“Sit down, Ron,” Harry repeated, ripping him from his thoughts.

Ron hesitated but finally lowered himself onto the bed with a shaky breath, his jittery fingers still fidgeting with the collar of his dress robes.

“Why are you so nervous?” Harry asked with an amused grin, playfully rocking his chair backward. Before Ron could answer, Harry’s smirk vanished only a second later when he nearly tipped over with his chair.

Just then, the door creaked open, and Bill, clad in dark blue dress robes, his ginger hair in a neat ponytail, entered the room.

“Merlin’s beard, you won’t believe what Mum just did,” the eldest Weasley brother exclaimed, rubbing his ear. “She practically tried to rip my earring out, claiming it’s inappropriate for a wedding.”

Harry laughed out loud, “I feel you. She made me take off my trousers to iron them. At breakfast she took a swipe at my hair, and wanted to give me a tidy trim. Good thing Arthur rescued me.”

“She’s ten times worse than Fleur, and Fleur’s pregnant!”

“We should’ve just eloped,” Ron mumbled.

Bill noticed his brother’s grim expression, “Something bothering you?”

“He has the jitters,” Harry interjected, shooting Ron a knowing look.

A momentary sympathy crossed Bill’s gaze. “Oh, I know that feeling. But don’t worry, once you see her walking down that aisle, everything else will fade away. Don’t forget to pack the tissues, because it might bring a tear to your eye.”

Ron’s eyes widened, a sudden surge of panic taking hold as Bill’s words sank in. The realization hit him like a bludger straight to the gut, and he felt the knot in his stomach tighten even more. All those people - family, friends, superiors, coworkers, politicians and the bloody reporters - all those eyes would witness him turn into a blubbering mess before Hermione even reached the altar.

The mere thought of it made his palms grow sweaty and beads of nervous sweat form on his forehead. His throat suddenly felt very dry, constricted by the heightening anxiety building up inside him. In a desperate move, Ron snatched the forgotten water glass from his nightstand and chugged its entire contents, the cool liquid unfortunately doing little to quell his discomfort.

“Bloody hell, I’m feeling even worse now. All these people are going to see me cry like a baby.”

Bill chuckled, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. ”Would that be so bad? That’s what people do at weddings, right? That’s the magic of it. Embrace the emotions.”

As his brother spoke, more beads of sweat formed on Ron’s forehead. The room abruptly felt uncomfortably stifling, and his fingers instinctively moved to the upper buttons of his dress shirt, desperately seeking relief. Hastily, he undid the upper two buttons, as a burning wave of heat started creeping up his back.

It wasn’t that he was afraid to show emotions, it was the fear of becoming the center of attention, of exposing his vulnerability to the world. Hermione deserved better than a blubbering mess of a groom, Ron pondered, as he wrestled with his own twisted expectations of masculinity and the desire to make this day perfect for the woman he loved beyond words.

“I’m so hot,” he mumbled. “Who decided you can’t get married in jeans and a t-shirt?”

“You can get married in jeans and a t-shirt. If your mother isn’t Molly Weasley,” Bill stated dryly. “Calm down, mate. You look like you want to back out.”

“No, of course not!” Ron turned around, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “It’s just...all these people!” He gestured towards the window, while proceeding to fidget with his tie. The heat wrapped around him like a second skin, intensifying the tension as he grappled with the suffocating atmosphere in the room.

Noticing Ron’s discomfort, Bill turned to Harry, who skillfully twirled his wand between his fingers. “Open the window and let in some fresh air. Seems like our groom here is on the verge of melting.”

Harry pointed his wand at the window, which creaked open a second later, allowing a gentle breeze to sweep into the room. The fresh air brushed against Ron’s sweaty skin like a soothing balm, momentarily alleviating the stifling heat and providing him with a bit of relief.

“Better?”

“Loads,” Ron murmured, inhaling deeply. “But it doesn’t change that I really want to see her now.”

“Mum’s going to kill you,” Bill remarked, a grin playing on his lips.

Why was it that couples were supposed to stay apart the night before the wedding and avoid seeing each other before the ceremony? Was it an old superstition passed down through generations, or perhaps only his mother’s ancient convention? Ron didn’t believe in bad luck. The idea of adhering to these traditions felt antiquated, breaking these customs most definitely wouldn’t have any effect on the success of the marriage. Walking down the aisle together, hand in hand, seemed like a more genuine way to approach this significant moment, rather than conforming to the conventional norm of the best man escorting the groom and the father of the bride accompanying the bride. The more he considered it, the more he questioned the necessity of these age-old customs. In hindsight, he should have been more vocal about it during the wedding planning. However, at the time, thoughts about how to approach the altar hadn’t really crossed his mind. The meticulous planning of other details had consumed so much time that he hadn’t spared a thought on this aspect. Tradition seemed like the default approach, but realizing his feelings now, Ron wished he had spoken up. If he had known back then how he felt in this moment, he would have been more assertive about challenging those ancient customs.

“Seriously, Hermione’s going to be a widow before she even gets the chance to say I do.”

“Maybe I’ll just do that and let Mum hurt me so we can get married privately in a hospital room.”

Letting out a hearty laugh, the eldest Weasley brother walked into the room, his laughter echoing from the orange walls. With a loud sigh, Bill flopped down next to Ron on the bed dramatically, the old mattress creaking in protest.

“I do understand you. There are quite a few people watching you, but you’ll get through it. It’ll be great once the official part is over. And just remember, Hermione’s probably as nervous as you are.”

“Bill’s right.” Harry nodded and searched Bill’s gaze while Ron fell back on his back, drawing in a shuddering breath.

Somehow, what his brother had just expressed made him ponder the possibility of Hermione being just as jittery as he was. The thought of it felt remarkably comforting. Ron briefly pictured her, dressed in a beautiful white gown, how she tried to navigate her own fluttering emotions while standing in front of a mirror in Ginny’s room. With this mental image, he attempted to steady his own anxious thoughts. They were in this together. And to be honest, Hermione, as the bride, would definitely bear even more of the spotlight, because wedding talk invariably revolved around the dress, the hairstyle, the presence or absence of a veil, and any other intricate detail. And yet, deep down, Ron’s biggest fear lingered - it was the mere thought of shedding tears in front of everyone that made another wave of nausea wash over him.

A resounding groan filled the air, and it took a fleeting moment for Ron to grasp that the sound had involuntarily slipped from him.

“Why are you so nervous?” Harry asked. “Everything is prepared. I did not forget the rings at home, you’re dressed up, and your bride is more than ready for you. Is it really just because there’s a bunch of reporters around and you’re terrified you’ll cry when you see her?”

“Seriously, what’s wrong with some happy tears?” Bill asked.

“It’ll be all over the bloody tabloids!” Ron whined, rubbing his hands over his face once more, before sitting up again.

Bill grinned, ruffling Ron’s hair. “So? What’s wrong with that? I did shed a tear or two when Fleur walked down the aisle. It’s allowed, you know.”

Ron glanced between Harry and Bill, “I just need a moment with her before the ceremony to make sure she really wants to do this in front of all these people, that’s all.”

“Screw all the people Mum insisted you invite. Just ignore them. It’s your moment. Don’t let a bunch of Ministry people take that away from you.”

As Ron took in another steadying breath, the door swung open, and George sauntered in, a bottle of firewhisky in hand and a sly grin on his face that got wiped away the moment he set eyes on his little brother.

“Bloody hell, what’s this gloomy gathering? Aren’t we about to celebrate the wedding of the millenium? I expected love, peace and harmony. I brought a bottle of Ogden’s and wanted to have a toast to our groom. You aren’t getting cold feet, Ronnie, are you?”

“Why is everyone asking me this?” Ron sighed, looking up at George. “Can’t a guy be nervous about the biggest day of his life?”

George chuckled, taking a dramatic step forward. “Finally realizing you’re stuck with her brilliant brain forever and that you’re about to commit to never getting a word in edgewise ever again.”

“He’s probably the only person on this planet that does get a word in edgewise when it comes to Hermione,” Harry answered, rolling his eyes.

Bill shot George a warning look. “Leave him alone, George. He’s just a bit jittery.”

“Alright, alright, folks, no need to get all serious,” George said, raising his arms in mock surrender. After a brief pause, he cracked open the firewhisky with a resounding pop and took a sip from the amber liquid right from the bottle.

When he spoke again, his teasing tone had changed completely. “What do you want me to say instead? That I’m proud and happy for you? You know, I am. I’ve said it before. Fred is too, wherever he is.”

Ron looked up, taken aback by the unexpected sincerity in George’s voice.

“What’s the problem, Ronnie?” George probed. “Afraid to fuck up the vows just like Lee did last month?”

“I don’t know. It’s just…” Ron answered, his gaze drifting to the floor. Only then did he grasp the significance of George’s words. Shit. Why hadn’t he considered this before? He should have committed every nuance of the vows to memory, and practiced them in front of the mirror (Hermione definitely had done that!) to ensure that they flowed flawlessly from his lips.

“Fuck! The vows!”

Another cascade of panic washed over him like a bucket of ice water as he pondered the next potential pitfall. The dread of stumbling over his words or, worse, forgetting the carefully crafted promises all together, and hence making a complete mess of the sacred moment, strangled him like a full-grown devil’s snare. As the vivid imagination of failure played out in his mind, more nausea churned in his stomach.

“What about the vows?”

“I’m going to fuck them up!”

“If you can’t remember them, just be honest - tell her what you feel. Shouldn’t be too hard. You pulled off the proposal just fine.”

“But there weren’t a million people staring at me back then!”

George responded with a hearty laugh, casually plopping down on the bed next to Ron.

“I’m going to cry and mess up the vows and make a complete fool of myself.”

“Of course, you’re going to cry. It wouldn’t feel right if you didn’t after chasing her for so many years and finally getting to marry her. This is a big moment. It’s okay to feel overwhelmed. You get to marry the woman you’ve been head over heels with for a bloody decade. It’s a good thing, really. I’m jealous.”

As George spoke, Harry and Bill exchanged surprised glances with raised eyebrows, as if George had grown a second head. They seemed genuinely surprised by his very untypical sentimental advice.

“Look, even if you start bawling like a baby or stumble over your words during the vows, nobody’s going to say anything about it. Even Fred up there somewhere will be cheering you on.”

Ron took a deep shuddering breath. “I wish he could be here.”

A heavy silence settled over the room, the absence of Fred casting a profound shadow on the joyous occasion. The pain of Fred’s passing felt particularly acute during celebrations, a lingering void that refused to be ignored. Over time, the raw edges of grief had softened, and living without Fred had become more bearable, at least for Ron. However, on this particular day, the absence of his older brother loomed larger than ever.

George silently offered him the bottle of Ogden’s but Ron declined with a firm shake of his head. Despite the temptation to ease his nerves with a sip of liquid courage, Ron remained steadfast in keeping his promise to Hermione. Besides, indulging in alcohol would only heighten the risk of messing up the vows.

“Right, guys! Enough of the sentimental stuff now.” George broke the poignant moment with a decisive clap of his hands. “Let’s get you down that aisle, Ronnie, before you decide to run off with your bride and Mum will have a heart attack.”

“Sometimes it seems as if it’s her own wedding,” Bill complained, snatching the bottle with the amber liquid from George’s hand and taking a sip from it as well. “It’s even worse than when I married Fleur.”

“She’s going completely barmy down there. Dad had to force her to sit down and have a cuppa. Bet he smuggled a few drops of calming draught into it,” George laughed, reaching out for the firewhisky again. Bill took another sip from the bottle, before passing it to George who indulged in another swig.

Just then, a loud sound check from the garden echoed, catching Ron’s attention. He rose from his bed and approached the window, gazing into the meticulously decorated garden. Every detail, from the huge flower arrangements to the white covers over chairs and tables, was meticulously planned. He sighed loudly. He really didn't need all this fuss. He just wanted Hermione; he didn't need extravagant flower arrangements or white covers over the chairs and tables, and he certainly didn't need the a million guests from every bloody corner of the earth, most of whom he didn’t even know, but whose invitation his mother (well, and on some unfortunately also Hermione) had insisted upon.

As Ron pondered the overwhelming spectacle below, a few raindrops began to tap against the window. Downstairs his mother was likely in a state of utter panic as light rain started to fall. White hussen over chairs, carefully arranged flower bouquets, and the meticulous outdoor setting even though protected by various pavillions – all threatened by a sudden downpour.

Upstairs he was indifferent to the weather brewing outside. The decorations didn’t really mean anything to him. In fact, he found himself yearning for a torrential downpour to sweep away all the extravagant arrangements, carrying off half the wizarding world along with it.

The thought felt good and brought a hint of a smirk on his lips. He would be able to marry her alone in the rain, the world around them fading away, leaving only them immersed in the quiet beauty of their love. The idea brought a rebellious thrill, fueling the desire to just whisk her away to a private haven, where only the rain would be their witness.

The mere thought of her made his eyes well up, the intensity of his love for her and the profound need he felt for her embrace overwhelming him again. He needed to see her now, he craved a private moment so much. A moment where he could lose himself in the depth of her fawn brown eyes if only for a minute. A moment where he could tell her how much he loved her, not as a grand spectacle for the world, but for her alone.

“I need to see her now.”

Before anyone could respond, Charlie walked in, his eyebrows furrowed in mock offense. “Are you arseholes seriously drinking without me?”

“Where’s Perce? Is he the poor sod getting an earful down there?” George asked, as the loud furious voice of Molly Weasley echoed through the house again.

“No, I don’t think so,” Charlie answered. “He was smart enough to keep a low profile. I happened to spot him sneaking off to the shed with Audrey. Seemed like they were escaping Mum’s temper and aiming for some fun instead.”

Charlie swiftly claimed the bottle from George’s hands, leaning casually against the doorframe as he took deliberate sips from the bottle. Harry extended his hand toward Charlie, signaling his desire to have a share of the amber liquid as well.

Watching the silent exchange of the bottle, caused Ron to briefly contemplate the idea of joining in to calm his jangled nerves. The idea of the warming embrace of the amber liquid seemed momentarily tempting.

After reluctantly surrendering the bottle to Harry, Charlie cleared his throat, issuing a warning with a smirk. “Mum’s on the warpath. She just caught sight of me in the hallway and was about to hex me into next week. She’ll throttle you if you come anywhere near Hermione right now.”

“I don’t bloody care about Mum. I have to see Hermione.”

Charlie nonchalantly crossed his arms, wearing a smirk on his lips. His dress shirt hung untucked, his tie was loosely draped around his neck and he wasn’t wearing shoes.

“Getting cold feet?” Charlie asked, the teasing tone laced with amusement.

“I swear to Merlin, if someone bugs me with that again today, I’ll end up behind bloody bars for murder on my wedding day,” Ron groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“I happened to catch a glimpse of your bride through the door. If you decide to back out at the last minute, I’m going to take over because let me tell you, she looks absolutely stunning.”

A collective chuckle rippled through the room, but Ron found Charlie’s joke far from funny and he shot his brother a pointed glare. “Seriously? Screw you.”

“Really, Charlie? You’re not helping,” Bill reprimanded his younger brother, giving him a disapproving look, before extending his hand toward Harry. A silent acknowledgment passed between them, and the bottle smoothly made its way into Bill’s possession.

Charlie rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright. Now, off you go, mate. Mum’s really not in the mood for surprises, and believe me, I don’t fancy being the target of her wrath. She sent me up to fetch you.”

There was a shuffle on the stairs and a second later a disheveled grim-faced Percy entered the room with his tie missing and his dress shirt only buttoned-up halfway. Without a word, he briskly snatched the bottle from Bill, took three substantial gulps, and let out a heavy sigh.

“If I’m ever getting married, it will be far away from Mum,” he declared, shaking his head in disapproval.

Another large sip followed, leaving his brothers highly amused by his unexpected appearance. Although the humor of the moment was not lost on Ron, he found it quite difficult to join in the laughter. His lips twitched, hinting at a suppressed smile, but the nerves and anticipation surrounding his imminent wedding prevented him from wholeheartedly embracing the jovial atmosphere that momentarily filled the room.

The bottle of Ogden’s seamlessly migrated from Percy to Bill and then back to George, who accepted it with a grin, before a second later the youngest Weasley burst into the room. Her fiery hair was neatly tucked into a bun, and she wore a floor length azure dress with a glittery bodice that sparkled in the subdued light.

“Really? What’s with this booze party here? You can get wasted later! Mum’s about to hex anyone who’s not downstairs five minutes ago!” Her tone softened as she noticed Ron’s anxious expression. “What is wrong with you? You look like you’re going to a funeral, not getting married.”

Ron sighed, running a shaky hand through his hair.

“Just nervous. Really nervous,” he admitted, attempting to calm his racing heart with what felt like the millionth deep breath today. His eyes darted to the mirror, and with a determined exhale, Ron stood up. Crossing the room, he walked over to it, checking his appearance once more as if seeking reassurance from his own reflection.

He just needed a moment alone with her. Just a brief moment because he was sure seeing Hermione before the ceremony would ease the tight knots in his stomach. The thought of her, with that reassuring smile and the comforting gaze of her brown eyes, promised a grounding force that he believed would make the nervous flutter in his chest finally dissipate. A quiet minute with her seemed like the only antidote to the pre-wedding jitters that threatened to overshadow the joyous occasion.

But now, with Ginny present, it was definitively too late for a private first meeting, and Ron had to admit defeat, whether he liked it or not. He knew his sister well; he didn’t even have to ask her because she would undoubtedly thwart any attempt to sneak down the stairs and get some reassuring minutes alone with Hermione.

“She is just as nervous, trust me. I have just talked to her. And I can tell you, she looks absolutely breathtaking,” Ginny told him very calmly, which made Ron look up in surprise because the tone of her voice sounded significantly different from the authoritative military-style tone she usually displayed. ”You better get ready for tears.”

“You’re not helping, Gin.” Harry warned.

Harry was right. It didn’t help much that everyone kept emphasizing how beautiful Hermione looked. The compliments, while well-intentioned, only fueled Ron’s nervousness.

“I am helping! In fact, I’m the only one in this room full of useless idiots doing anything helpful! Off you go, Ron, shed those tears in private!”

“What do you mean?”

“Go steal a private first look, you have ten minutes. I’ll cover for you with Mum.”

Ginny’s unexpected offer caught Ron off guard, and for a brief moment his jaw hung open as he tried to process her words. It took a beat to fully comprehend them but when he did, a broad grin spread across his face. It was like she threw him a lifeline while he was drowning in a sea of nerves. She seemed to be the only one of his siblings who understood the storm of emotions swirling within him and he was so grateful that he briefly flung his arms around her neck.

“Thanks, Gin. You’re the best.”

“Go, before Mum sees you!” Ginny ordered and ushered him out of the room, leaving Harry, Bill, George, and Charlie amused and slightly shocked.

As Ron walked down the old staircase, he could hear his sister’s angry voice resonating from his old bedroom. “Seriously! You’re a bunch of insensitive morons! Every single one of you!”

A second later Charlie remarked, “You didn’t just let him sneak off to see his bride, did you? That’s suicide!”

“You lot are just fantastic!” Ginny shouted. “You could have done this ten minutes ago! He clearly needs this moment with her to calm down. He looked like he was about to freak out. Why the hell didn’t you let him see her sooner? Just because you’re scared shitless of Mum?”

“She’s going to rip you a new one if she finds out.”

“I can handle Mum. Ron’s more likely to faint from nerves than make it down the aisle if he doesn’t get a bit of strength from seeing her. I did what I had to do. Come on, you wimps, let’s go before Mum turns us all into garden gnomes.”

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

Hermione stood in front of the mirror in Ginny’s old bedroom, the soft glow of the dressing table lights casting a warm ambiance. The fabric of her wedding gown hung gracefully, the soft tulle cascading around her in elegant folds.

It was a dress she had discovered in a quaint Muggle boutique, accompanied by her mother, Ginny, Molly, and Fleur. The moment she had slipped into it, there had been a shared, unspoken realization that this was the one. Ginny’s eyes had sparkled with approval, her mother and Mrs. Weasley had teared up, and even Fleur, with her impeccable taste, had nodded in agreement.

The dress had a quiet confidence about it, a reflection of Hermione’s own understated beauty. It was a masterpiece of elegance and simplicity, a far cry from the traditional A line or modern princess ball gown. The sleek silhouette gracefully accentuated her figure, and the delicate lace created a beautiful pattern all over the skirt. The slightly daring cut-out back and the hint of cleavage were a departure from the conventional wedding dresses, and Hermione was certain it would elicit a delightful mix of surprise and admiration from the crowd and especially from Ron.

She was positive that he’d love it (but he would probably love anything she wore). The thought of his blue sapphire blue eyes lighting up brought a smile to her face as she envisioned the moment he would see her in this gown - the awe in his gaze, the proud lopsided smile that he definitely wouldn’t be able to contain, and the warmth in his voice as he would undoubtedly tell her just how breathtaking she looked.

The room was quiet, and she took a moment to collect herself, the excitement and nervous anticipation making her heart flutter. The morning had been a whirlwind of emotions. She was so jittery that she hadn’t been able to eat anything for breakfast and the feeling of needing to use the toilet seemed to be a constant companion since she had woken up from a restless sleep. Every passing moment intensified the anticipation, and Hermione couldn’t help but check her appearance in the mirror repeatedly.

She had to admit she looked absolutely beautiful, her chestnut curls were tamed and she had chosen to wear them down, just the way Ron liked it. With trembling hands, she adjusted her veil. Never in her wildest dreams had she envisioned herself wearing a veil on her wedding day. As she had stepped into the bridal boutique, her conviction against a veil had been steadfast. However, Fleur, Molly and her mother had insisted she at least give one a try. To her surprise, when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror with it, she couldn’t deny that it added an exquisite final flourish to her entire look. It just seamlessly complemented the dress.

As she looked at herself, another overwhelming surge of nerves washed over her. It wasn’t due to any doubts about committing to Ron or questioning his role as the love of her life. Instead, it was due to realizing that she was about to step into the spotlight as the center of attention. The meticulous planning invested in this day had left little room for contemplating how it might actually feel to be a bride.

With a shuddering breath, she tried to calm her raging nerves. She tried to remind herself that she probably wasn’t the only one grappling with pre-wedding jitters. Ron, ever since the war concluded, vehemently disliked being thrust into the spotlight, so the ceremony undeniably posed its unique set of challenges for him.

Her mind traveled back to the days at Hogwarts, to navigating perilous adventures, to surviving a war, to grieving a brother, to trying to adjust to a new life without a constant threat looming over them. Their bond had grown stronger with each passing obstacle. Ron wasn’t just her best friend; he was her anchor, her sanctuary, the best partner in crime, the best lover she could ever imagine. The tenderness in his touch, the way he looked at her, the way he challenged her, the way he grounded her, the way he could make her laugh even in the darkest times – her love for him surpassed anything she had ever dreamed of. It wasn’t a love born from grand exuberant gestures; it was the quiet, steady kind of love that was always there in every moment of their life.

The significance of this day almost overwhelmed her. She wanted Ron to be her husband, she wanted nothing more than to officially start this new chapter with him, but the nerves fluttered within every cell of her body. Despite her status as a war heroine and being featured in magazines and newspapers practically all the time, it felt daunting to be the focal point in front of a crowd, especially on such a personal occasion. Vulnerability crept in, and as she envisioned all the people watching her, her knees weakened, and a wave of nausea washed over her.

For a very brief moment, she regretted not having entertained Ron’s half-serious, half-joking suggestion to elope. However, she tried to remind herself that even though today was primarily about her and Ron, their families and close friends, the people who were part of their lives and supported them through everything, the people who loved them dearly, deserved to be part of this special day too.

Unlike other women, Hermione hadn’t spent her childhood dreaming of the perfect wedding. There hadn’t been a box under her bed filled with pictures and ideas of how her special day should unfold. However, when Ron had proposed to her in the most romantic way nine months ago on New Year’s Eve, certain visions, like her wedding dress and beautiful flower arrangements, naturally found their places in her thoughts. Simply getting married without a celebration wouldn’t have been right.

Suddenly, a soft creak of the door caught her attention. Hermione turned, and her heart skipped a beat when she saw Ron, sneaking into the room with a mischievous grin playing on his lips.

“Ron, what on earth are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be here!” she chided.

Undeterred, Ron closed the door behind him, locking it with his wand. His eyes widened in awe as he took in the sight of Hermione in her wedding gown, the soft light streaming through the curtains adding a radiant glow to her.

Ignoring her scolding, he just closed the distance between them, cupping her face in his hands. The world seemed to fade away as he kissed her deeply without a word, and Hermione felt a familiar surge of warmth and love in his touch.

“I don’t bloody care about tradition, love,” he whispered against her lips, his voice cracking. “I just couldn’t wait any longer.”

Hermione’s eyes softened at his words, realizing the depth of his feelings. Before she could protest further, Ron pressed his lips against hers again in a deep, passionate kiss to which she responded immediately.

Ron’s presence enveloped her, and she couldn’t deny that his proximity made the flutter in her belly ease instantly. His touch, the way he cradled her face, and the intensity of love in his kisses dissolved most of the worry, making room for the deep joy of finally getting to marry him.

However, as their stolen moment persisted, a subtle undercurrent of concern crept in when Hermione’s acute hearing picked up the distant voice of Molly Weasley downstairs. The tone sounded stern, and it seemed like someone was on the receiving end of another bollocking. The realization that they might get caught and face Molly’s stress-induced temper made Hermione break away from the kiss.

“Your mum is going to kill us,” Hermione mumbled against his mouth.

“I don’t bloody care,” he whispered again before stealing another kiss. “Couldn’t resist a private first look with my soon-to-be wife.”

Hermione blushed, the warmth spreading across her cheeks. “Really, Ron, we’re not supposed to see each other until the ceremony.”

To be honest, Hermione had never believed in superstitions, especially not when it came to weddings. The idea that a marriage could falter simply because the couple saw each other before meeting at the altar seemed utterly absurd. It wasn’t about some cosmic consequence but rather about appeasing Molly, who firmly believed that adhering to these age-old traditions would set the best foundation for marriage. Ron’s mum wanted nothing but the best for them, which was why Molly was so steadfast in sticking to the ancient customs and keeping things as they had been for centuries.

“Yeah, I know. Bad luck and stuff like that. But like I said, I don’t bloody care,” he repeated, “I couldn’t wait. I was about to fall over. I needed to make sure you were really ready to do this in front of all these people. My mind was playing tricks on me.”

As he spoke, Ron slowly broke away from their embrace and took her hands in his, holding her at arm’s length as he absorbed every detail of her appearance.

For a moment, Hermione let herself revel in the way his dress robes perfectly complemented his tall frame, the subtle sheen of the fabric adding a touch of elegance. The way his ginger hair fell in a charming disarray, his intoxicating scent, the timbre of his voice and the warmth in his tender gaze - each detail possessed the power of slowly but gradually melting away her lingering nervousness.

“You’re so handsome,” she told him and smiled. “I can’t wait to marry you.”

Ron’s sapphire blue eyes began to shimmer at her words, and he shook his head in disbelief, struggling to articulate his thoughts. A soft, involuntary mix of a laugh and a choke escaped him as he tried to contain the overwhelming flood of emotions that swept over him in that pivotal moment.

Words seemed to fail him, and as a reaction he just pressed his lips against Hermione’s, kissing her deeply once more. After a few tender kisses, Ron pulled back, tears glistening in his eyes. Holding her at arm’s length once more, he savored the sight of her, gathering his emotions before finally managing to say, “Merlin, Hermione, you’re just...wow.”

As Ron scanned her body with the deepest look of love, Hermione herself felt an overwhelming surge of love that threatened to spill over, her heart swelling with an intensity she had never experienced before. Tears streamed down her own cheeks as he silently drank her in, savoring her like a thirst-quenching oasis in the middle of a desert.

“I’m the luckiest bloke alive,” he choked with a loud sniffle. “There are no words, Hermione. No words to describe what I feel right now. No words to describe how much I love you. What did I do to deserve you?”

The last words made his voice crack with the weight of his emotions, and he had to take a deep shuddering breath, as the tears now flowed freely down his cheeks.

“You’re my everything.”

In that moment, Hermione felt as if she were the centerpiece of a captivating fairytale, as if a script had been written just for the two of them. The breath she didn’t realize she had been holding escaped in a soft sigh, her shaky fingers finding strength in the warmth of his sweaty hands.

“You’re hopeless, Ron.”

“Hopelessly in love with you,“ he replied, leaning in for another kiss. “I can’t believe how lucky I am.”

Hermione’s heart swelled with affection as he spoke, the sincerity in his words touching her deeply. His open vulnerability only strengthened the bond between them, and she realized just how fortunate she was to have him by her side. Each word, each tear, each touch not only amplified the bubble around them but also skillfully dispelled the remaining jitters that had threatened to overwhelm her earlier.

However, as soft voices suddenly echoed from the staircase, reality nudged its way back in, popping the bubble around them, causing her to ask, “What are you doing here?”

“I was freaking out a bit. I just needed to see you before, to hold you and tell you that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Deeply moved by his words, Hermione gently reached up, wiping away a tear from Ron’s cheek, whispering, “You big sap. I love you too.”

Another kiss sealed the moment, and Ron held her close, reluctant to let her go.

“I’m so nervous,” he mumbled into her curls.

“I was too. My knees felt like jelly,” Hermione chuckled, running her fingers through Ron’s hair. “But now that you’re here, I’m feeling so much better.”

“I’m seriously worried I might fall over.”

His vulnerability and self-doubt tugged at the strings of her heart. She knew how he tended to overthink things, constantly preoccupying himself with what others thought of him or how he was perceived. In certain pivotal moments, it felt as if he still carried the deceitful locket around his neck, allowing invisible voices to whisper nonsensical thoughts into his mind.

“What if I trip over my own feet or faint and make a complete fool of myself in front of everyone?”

While he continued to worry about potential mishaps, Hermione briefly marveled again how his mere presence, the caress of his hands, and the warmth of his kisses had worked like a calming potion, and had swiftly dispelled her own fears and anxieties. It dawned on her that she held the same power – the ability to unravel his nervous energy and to dissipate the whimsical worries that still lingered in his mind.

“Look at me,” she said softly, turning his warm face toward her so she could look into his eyes. “You won’t.”

“I apologize in advance if I mess anything up.”

“Nonsense, Ron, you couldn’t. There isn’t anything to mess up.”

“Don’t be so sure about that. I might forget my vows or stumble over my own words.”

“That’s not going to happen, Ron,” she reassured him, caressing his flushed cheeks. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

“Try me,” he whispered against her lips before stealing another kiss. “We should have eloped, you know. Skived off the whole big wedding thing. Just you, me, maybe Harry and Gin, and a quiet ceremony without any fuss.”

His words painted a vivid picture of a flushed Molly Weasley, standing in her kitchen with her hands on her hips, in Hermione’s mind. She shuddered at the thought of how Ron’s mother would react if they married without the family present. “Your mum would never forgive us.”

Ron sighed dramatically. “Yeah, the wedding of the millennium, with half the wizarding world watching us. Blah blah blah. I know, I know. But I don’t give a flying fart about the wizarding world; I just want you.”

As their eyes locked in understanding, Ron drew her closer for another kiss. Hermione instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck, enjoying the feeling of his soft lips against hers. What began as a sweet exchange of affection soon transformed into a more fervent, passionate snog.

Between kisses, Ron managed to mumble, “Let’s just skive off to Gretna Green or pop over to Las Vegas.”

Hermione chuckled into his mouth before breaking away. “Are you suggesting we ditch our own wedding?”

“Yeah? Why not? As long as I get to marry you, I couldn’t care less about the big show.”

“It’s too late.”

“I’m only kidding,” he said with that lopsided grin Hermione loved so much, his hands tracing gentle patterns on the skin of her back exposed by the beautiful wedding dress. “But, seriously, all this pomp and circumstance, it’s not about us. It’s about everyone else.”

Ron did have a point in a way, but he wasn’t entirely right. Their special day had to meet the norms of tradition and societal expectations, as Molly described it. But despite encountering certain predetermined notions about their wedding, Hermione acknowledged that they had earnestly incorporated many of their own desires and expectations into the mix to make it their day.

Hermione smiled, reaching up again to cup his flushed face between her hands. “This is about us, love. It’s about celebrating our love with the people we care about.”

“How do you manage to always make everything better? I’m not so nervous anymore now. It’s like you cast a calming spell on me. I feel like you lifted a weight from my chest,” Ron confessed, cradling her face between his hands to look lovingly into her eyes. “I love you so bloody much.”

A knock on the door interrupted their intimate exchange, causing them to jump apart. Ginny’s dominant voice filtered through, “Oi, lovebirds, Mum’s about to turn into a dragon. Move your arses downstairs. Separately! Do you want me to spell it? S. E. P. A. R. A.T. E. L. Y. Unless you want your maid of honor to meet a gruesome end at the hands of her own mother! Hurry the fuck up!”

Ron rolled his eyes, pulling Hermione closer for another quick kiss. “Ready for the grand spectacle?”

“More than ready,” she chuckled, dropping another kiss on his lips. “See you at the altar.”

[khami-the-raccoon]

Hello!

How was your day?

Could you do Will Graham x Gn!Reader? Gn!Reader owns a King Cobra, and it is usually wrapped around Gn!Reader’s neck. Reader is probably the prime suspect in the Chesapeake Ripper since a King Cobra’s venom can kill 20 people or even an elephant.

Hello! My day was good, thank you. And thank you very much for your request. I hope you like it :)

Will Graham x snake owner! GN! Reader

Summary: Will Graham x GN! reader, where reader has a King Cobra, and it’s the principal suspect for the Chesapeake Ripper case.

Word count: 1072

Will Graham Masterlist

General Masterlist

In the quiet moments before an unexpected call, Y/N and Will found solace in each other's arms. The dim room was filled with a nice warm feeling of love. Y/N nestled against Will, finding comfort in the steady beat of his heart.

Will's fingers traced gentle patterns on Y/N's back, a silent reassurance that spoke volumes. Seraph, a king cobra and a silent observer, coiled contentedly in Y/N’s lap.

"I love these quiet moments with you," Will whispered, his breath a soft caress against Y/N's hair.

Y/N smiled, fingers idly playing with the fabric of Will's shirt. "Me too. It's like the world disappears, and there's just us."

They lingered in the embrace, savoring the simple pleasure of being together. Will pressed a tender kiss to Y/N's forehead, sealing their shared affection.

"I'll always be here for you, Y/N," Will murmured, his voice a soothing melody. "No matter what happens."

Y/N tightened their hold on Will, feeling the genuine warmth of his words. "I love you. You make everything feel lighter, even in the darkest times."

As they exchanged whispered words of love and promises, little did they know that a storm was about to disrupt their peaceful haven, challenging the very foundation of their connection.

The phone on the table rang, shattering the fragile calm in the room. Will's eyes never left Y/N as he picked it up, his expression growing serious. The voice on the other end belonged to Jack Crawford, and as the conversation unfolded, the color drained from Will's face.

"Y/N," Will said, his voice strained, "we need to talk.” Y/N looked at him, and felt nervous as they saw how serious Will was. “It’s everything alright?” Y/N asked, Will shook his head.

“Venom from Seraph was found in the latest Chesapeake Ripper victims. Jack thinks you might be involved." Will said slowly, not believing the evidence that was found.

Y/N's heart sank, and they looked at Seraph, who now seemed to embody the looming threat. The serpent's scales, once a source of comfort, now felt like a chain tightening around Y/N's neck and stomach.

"I swear, Will, I have no idea how Seraph's venom could be connected to those murders," Y/N pleaded, desperation in their eyes.

Will's conflicted gaze held Y/N's for a moment before he spoke, "I want to believe you, but the evidence is damning."

Y/N could feel the weight of uncertainty settling in the room, replacing the warmth that had just embraced them. Seraph, sensing the tension, uncoiled from Y/N's lap and slithered away, disappearing into the shadows.

As they navigated the difficult conversation, Y/N could see the struggle in Will's eyes — torn between the love he felt and the evidence that pointed in a troubling direction. The trust they had built seemed fragile, hanging in the balance of this unexpected revelation.

"I need you to explain, Y/N. Help me understand how Seraph's venom ended up at the crime scenes," Will implored, his voice a mixture of concern and frustration.

Y/N's mind raced, desperately searching for an explanation that would make sense of the surreal accusation. "I don't know, Will. Seraph has never harmed anyone. I would never involve them in something like this," they said, eyes pleading for understanding.

Will sighed, the weight of the situation evident in the lines on his forehead. "We need to figure this out together. I can't ignore the evidence, but I don't want to lose you either."

In the following days, Y/N and Will became entangled in a lot of investigations and strained conversations. The once warm and comforting moments now felt distant, replaced by a palpable tension that clung to the air. Seraph, sensing the unease, often slithered between Y/N and Will, a silent mediator in their shared turmoil.

One evening, as the weight of suspicion hung heavily in the room, Y/N confronted Will with tear-filled eyes. "I can't lose you, Will. Seraph is innocent, and so am I. Please believe me," they pleaded, their voice breaking with emotion.

Will, torn between duty and love, struggled to meet Y/N's gaze. "I want to, Y/N, but I need more than just words. I need answers."

“I already told you I don’t know anything! Seraph didn’t kill anyone and either did !” Y/N said, Will started pacing around the room.

“Seraph’s venom can kill 20 men! And it’s always with you!” Will said, trying not to yell, he didn’t want to start an argument with his partner.

Just a little while later Will received a call from Jack Crawford. Will looked at his phone, expecting really bad news. After he hung up, he looked at Y/N. “Jack wants you and me to go to the quarters, he says it’s something important” Will said.

As they drove as fast as they could to the FBI quarters, Y/N couldn’t help but be very nervous, what was gonna happen? Were they going to go to jail for something they didn’t do?

A few moments later they arrived at the FBI quarters, and walked quickly to meet Jack.

“Good you’re here. You need to see something” Jack said as he encountered Will and Y/N. They followed Jack to a room, were Zeller, Price and Beverly were analyzing something.

As Y/N got closer, they discovered vials of venom identical to Seraph's. Confusion etched across their face, Y/N examined the evidence. It became clear that someone had been trying to frame Y/N by planting Seraph's venom at the crime scenes.

Will turned to Y/N and hugged them tightly. "I’m sorry I doubted you, Y/N. Someone set this up," Will said, remorse coloring his features. “You could have never done such crimes.”

As they came back home, they went back to the couch to cuddle and relax, Seraph, sensing the shift in atmosphere, slithered over to Will, nuzzling against his hand in a surprisingly affectionate gesture and the tension in the room began to dissipate.

In the following days, Seraph became a source of solace once again, not only to Y/N but also to Will. The serpent's playful antics and charming demeanor worked wonders in easing the lingering tension. It was as if Seraph, aware of its unintentional involvement, sought to mend the bonds between Y/N and Will.

[nogenderbee]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ 𝔹𝕒𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞 ₊˚ˑ༄

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ not a request!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Happy Birthday to KAITOOOOO!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ fluff

Affiliation with @virtualbookstore

You and KAITO were kinda just living together by now so it was hard to realize your plans without him noticing. You did had spare houses but always ended up in one place and bed either way.

So you had to make a believable excuse so he'd be gone from this place for 2 hours or so. He was always a bit of a gentleman and... you just kinda used it... You did felt guilty for asking him to bring you soda which you knew wasn't available in any shop in a hour distance, especially since it was his birthday! But you planned it for way too long to just abandon your idea.

You wanted to bake chocolate cake, colored with blue food dye! It may sound simple but your idea surely wasn't! You also had in mind to make chocolate flowers that'll decorate the top!

So now, you tried not to think abut the guilt and instead focus on baking, keeping your phone on full volume, since your partner promised to text you once he finds what you wanted.

You just put the cake in the oven when you heard sound of notification, which you immidietly checked, hoping you still have time to finish your gift...

"<You won't believe it, they had your favorite soda in 2nd closest gallery! I'm heading home now. Or do you need anything more?>"

You noticed the opportunity to keep him occupied for a bit longer but you didn't wanted to be this mean, so you just picked up the tempo slightly.

"<No, that's all! Thanks a lot, stay safe on your way back!>"

Luckily for you, baking process went pretty smoothly! It was the chocolate flowers that you were stuck the most on... and the stress wasn't helping!

You took the cake out of the oven, which looked absolutly perfect! The bad news were that... making petals weren't as hard as attaching them without them breaking...

But you thought you were getting the hang of it when you heard door opening...

"Hey, I'm back with some soda for us!"

You quickly ran out of the kitchen, hoping to block his view and for the cake to stay a surprise. Though you seemed to forget about one important fact...

"Are you baking something? It smells like chocolate in here! You could invite me so we'd bake something together. I believe I know a thing or two from MEIKO."

"Well it's..."

You realized there's no point in lying anymore so you decided to just spill it out.

"I wanted to bake a cake for your birthday but I'm struggling with chocolate flowers..."

"Do you want me to help you? I'm not a professional but I rememberd watching others do it!"

You nodded with a small sigh. You didn't wanted him to bother making it but since you couldn't figure it out and he didn't mind... maybe it was alright?

And when both of you arrived at kitchen, his words only confirmed. He really learned how to make these from just observing. It seems you were missing the gentle touch he could effortlessly do! It was probablu just stress that rubbed off on you.

"Thank you KAITO... I'm sorry you had to help with your own birthday gift..."

"Oh, so it was gift for me? Thank you! And don't worry, I'm happy I got to spend some more quality time with you."

His words reassured you a bit, making your shoulders relax. And the genuine smile on his face only confirmed his words!

"I'm happy to hear it~ In that case, Happy Birthday!"

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot - come get your soft gentleman!

[unhappy-last-resort]

What Lovers Do (Yandere Roland x GN Reader)

Warnings: non con, implied past non con, smut, no mention of readers genitalia, implied bondage, penetration, use of lubricant, slight spoilers for future chapters but if you don't know then you can't tell

A/N: I started this at 4 AM this morning, apologies if the writing is a bit stiff I kinda wanted to get something quick out.

As always, constructive criticism is welcome and I hope you enjoy.

Status: Not Edited

"Then...can you tell me if I'm performing or being genuine right now?" The question was thrown at you with a chuckle and a certain glint in his eye, like he was a gambler about to win a bet. That should have been your first warning to say no, or better yet say nothing at all.

"I think..." It was less of a thought and more of a hope at the time. "You're being genuine." You spoke softly, as though you might shatter something if you spoke too loud despite your silly costume and unique setting. The maze you had cleared together now behind you, faux flower petals gently danced in the air above you. Despite the mechanoids of Constellia lacking a complete understanding of human aesthetics and choices, their imitation of them never failed to impress you.

In return, Roland gave a hearty laugh as he closed the distance between you two. "Is that so, Babylonian Commandant?" He reached his hand up and before you could stop him, you were stripped of your Sharksphere-esc head, leaving your face in his full view.

He held your chin gently, yet firm enough to hold you in place as he leaned in close, "Since I'm being genuine, why don't we commit ourselves to one another and do something only lovers do?" He whispered with a small smirk that barely contained his excitement.

While you had momentarily forgotten the differences between constructs and humans, but Roland was quick to remind you as he pulled you towards him, his other hand going straight to your crotch causing you to gasp and swat his hand away, which he ignored in favor of teasing you with his fingers.

"Roland, wha-"

"Shhhh...." He hushed you gently, as if he was consoling an upset child. "It's alright, just follow my lead and everything will be easier." You tried to push him away to no avail, it felt like you were trying to push a wall. Your struggling meant nothing to him as he held you tightly enough to keep you in place, but not so much that it was painful.

Despite yourself, you could feel your body responding in kind to his deceptively gentle touches and the occasional fleeting kiss on your skin as he whispered little words of praise or comfort to you, steadily drawing you into your first unsteady orgasm of the day.

Which led you to now, your costume and pants stripped from you and his artificial cock buried deep inside of you as he held you pinned to the floor, his black coating making him look like a wraith among the sea of pink and purple hues. It was so swift that you hadn't the chance to process what he was doing before your eyes widened and a stilted cry left your lips at the sudden intrusion. His faint scent of roses making your head spin as your walls spasm around him, struggling to adjust to him.

"Shhhh, Mon Chéri it'll feel better soon, just wait." Roland held your cheek, making you look into his heterochromic eyes. One the color of the color of the sun and one the color of blood. Both looking at you almost sympathetically, had it not been for the subtle glee in his eyes you might've believed that sympathy to be true.

Before you could muster a reply, he very gently thrusted into you. It was clear now that he had slipped a lubricant on you amidst your earlier distraction of his insistent kisses as he removed your pants, easing your walls into accepting the stretch as each inch slowly sunk into you.

"This isn't..." You shut your eyes tightly as he slowly thrusted into you again, more lubricant this time than the last quickly turning the intitial pain into pleasure. "This isn't what lovers do."

Roland raised a brow, his hips pulling back only to steadily push into you once more, reaching deeper with the help of the lubricant as you heaved an unsteady sigh. The sensation wasn't as painful as you'd hoped. "Isn't this what lovers do in a place like this?" Another drag of his cock easily had your body relaxing against the colorful floor of the venue. Empty chairs watching you both from a short distance away.

"They'd say their vows and consummate their love, ensuring they always love one another until the end of time?" His hold on your wrists had a grown a little tighter as a squelching sound filled the silence between you. You could feel arousal hightening your senses and making your body receptive to his actions despite you wishing it wouldn't.

Roland smiles sickeningly sweet as he leans in, your faces mere breaths apart. "You want this too, I can tell." He whispers before placing small kisses on the corner of your mouth. You take in a breath, about to protest before his eyes narrow slightly and a sudden thrust of his hips takes your breath away and leaves your mind buzzing with pleasure.

He kisses your face a few times, humming in satisfaction with your silence as he sets a steady pace inside you. Each thrust making his tip hit that place that had you seeing stars. If you didn't know any better, you would say it was almost with practiced precision, like he knew every inch of you better than you could ever hope to know yourself.

You can feel the smile on his lips as he decorates your neck with kisses, his iron grip on your wrists never once loosening. "You know, I was surprised when you contacted me." He whispers breathlessly, lightly nipping at your skin as your unsteady breaths turn into squeaks and moans. "I was certain this was a mere trap, or something so important it had left you desperate to achieve your goal no matter who you had to do it with." At that moment, a chime sounds and the doors leading to the exit of the maze open and all you can do is stare at it through glossy eyes as pleasure hits you like a wave with every thrust of his hips.

Roland chuckles again as he looks down at you, a gloating smile playing on his lips as he watches you fall apart, your human desires overtaking any protest or fight you might've had. "But when I came here and found out that you were simply naive enough to seek company from your enemy, well..." He drifts off, as his hips start slamming into yours with something that mimicked reckless abandon yet lacked the recklessness, being more akin to something designed for squeezing every little bit of pleasure out of you. "I couldn't help myself. How could an actor like me resist such an interesting plot?"

You jerk suddenly, your eyes seeing white as an orgasm crashes into you, leaving you dizzy in its wake as Roland's thrusts don't slow down or stop for a second. "You are such an interesting human. Like a blooming flower on a battlefield, I can't help wanting to pick it up and keep it for myself." He whispers with an edge, each brutal thrust of his hips making you writhe underneath him as your pleas are reduced to senseless babbling.

He leans in, your foreheads resting against each other and in this moment his expression falls away into something softer, almost loving. "We spent so much time arguing amongst ourselves, but seeing you like this makes everything we've done worth it." His voice sounds soft and raw, like a confession whispered only for his ears.

"C-can't...what...mngh..." Roland smiles and cups your cheek with his hand, freeing one of your wrists now that you can't struggle. His thumb brushes your bottom lip and it sickens you how genuinely happy he looks, his eyes full of adoration as the gentlest smile plays on his lips.

"I love you so much, you have no idea how many nights and days I spent on this Earth yearning for something to truly call mine." His pace becomes faster, any embers of your sanity fading with each slap of skin as the body heat of the construct above you rises. "And now, I can finally say..."

He grunts, his body shuddering as his eyes snap closed, a growl reverberating in his chest as he struggles to hold something back. "I can finally say..." His voice module strains as he arches into you, his cock somehow reaching deeper as he places messy kisses along your neck before he brings his face back up to yours again.

"I love you." His whispered words can barely register before his lips crash into yours, his eyes open to drink in every expression you make as he moans into the kiss. Your hips instinctively buck up into his as something hot coats your insides, he gives a final thrust to make sure you take every last drop of what he has to give and the sensation is enough to make your back arch as your second orgasm takes you.

He kisses you again and again, barely letting you breath as his other hand abandons your wrist and settles to hold your hip instead. "You have no clue how long I've wanted this to be true. Even if this is just a dream, or a play, I'm tired of playing to the audience's whims." He sounds ecstatic and desperate as he wraps his arms around and lifts you up as he slowly stands with cock still buried inside you, as if his previous orgasm meant nothing to him.

"Where are..." You slump against him, your head resting on his shoulder. You could barely speak, only just now having been given the privilege of breathing as you're vaguely aware he's walking, colors and light shifting around you in a blur.

"A proper place to continue our act, of course." He says as if it's obvious and kisses your forehead. "I'm not done yet." You're vaguely aware you're indoors again, a small living space greeting you, or perhaps you always were and you were too tired to notice.

"I hope this is to your taste," Roland says with his usual bravado. "Because we'll be here for a while." The bedroom door opens, revealing a bed illuminated by surrounding candles and the glitters of chains tied to its bedposts.

[iveta777]

March,2021

This week I’ve been dealing with a serious mental breakdown. I was so overwhelmed in the beginning of the week and I couldn’t resist anymore. I was so disappointed by myself because I had so much stuff to be done; I tried so hard, man, I really tried so hard but I just couldn’t keep up with my schedule; I had slept less than 8 hours in total for the past 3 days; I didn’t feel well because I had a killing headache which wasn’t good because I wasn’t able to do my work. The result as you already know was the only one possible: mental breakdown. I cried for hours… I cried because of my own high expectations for me. I cried because as a perfectionist I wanted everything to be done on time. I cried because I tried and I was doing stuff these three days but the result… Well, there was no result. I had a list of tasks and nothing was marked as done which made me feel like I did nothing that past days. I cried because I was so tired, so overwhelmed, so exhausted. I cried because my soul cried. I wanted a break but I couldn’t get one because I had no time for that. I needed some free time, me time. I wanted to watch a movie, or watch a YouTube video, or paint, or write( I love writing…), or go out, or… just sleep. My body was tired, my soul was tired, I was tired…

After two or more hours of crying I felt like a new person. I was great. I was calm, empty, free. I was me again. And after that everything was great, too. I did everything I had planned for the past three days in less than five hours. I was happy. This day turned out to be my day because some really great things happened…

To be honest, this mental breakdown turned out to be something I needed because after that I realized some things.

To begin with, I have the best mother ever. I mean it’s not something I didn’t know but after that I have no doubt that it’s true. I tried to hide from her what was going on with me but as a parent at the moment she saw me she knew something was wrong. I tried to hide it from her but she made me tell her. Then she told me that I could and I would deal with everything, that she was proud of me, that everything was going to be alright. She asked no unnecessary questions, she just hugged me and stayed with me. She asked my father to buy me a chocolate bar and stayed with me for hours till she was sure that I was fine. She wanted to do so much more and I saw the pain in her eyes when she realized that there was nothing else she could help me with. But that was fine because she gave me more than I needed. I only needed support and a shoulder to cry on and she gave me peace and love. There was nothing else I could ask for.

Second, I realized that when I have hard time I don’t have do deal with it alone. I am used to hiding my emotions and keep my problems for me. I never talk about myself or the issues I have. But gosh it felt really nice when I shared my problems with her. She showed me that I am not alone (which is my greatest fear- to remain alone).

Third, I realized that everyone has hard times and I should not be afraid of it. I realized that keeping everything in me is not good for my health on first place. I realized that crying is okay. I realized that crying can free you from your problems, to make some space for you to see the world from different perspective, to help you find the solutions you are looking for and you are struggling to find.

Last one, I realized that putting yourself first doesn’t make you selfish and egoistic. To put yourself first means to make priority the most important person in your life-YOU. I’ve always been told that but I never believed it. I always tried to make my parents proud. I always tried to please everyone. But for 20 years I never asked myself what I REALLY want, what I need, I don’t even know what makes me happy, or sad, or what is my favorite color and do I even have a favorite color. I know so much about the other people and at the same time I know nothing about myself. But now I know… I know that I should put myself first and that there is nothing wrong about that. I know that first I should make sure that I feel great and then to try to help others because if I can’t help myself and I don’t take care of myself, how would I do that for the others???

To sum up, I realized that this mental breakdown was actually a good thing. It was something I needed. It made me realize some important stuff and to realize that if I take care of myself and I am fine, everything will be alright. Also, I realized that I am not alone and I have never been- I just made myself feel alone which is much worse than actually being alone…

I.A.A.

[mysteryshoptls]

SR Lilia Vanrouge Beastly Garb Personal Story: Part 2

"I've decided on this!"

(Part 1) Part 2

[Sunset Savanna – Market]

Lilia: I wonder how long ago that was…

Lilia: I had heard that a cave deep in the mountains of this one country, there was this ice that would shine in all colors of the rainbow.

Vil: Colors of the rainbow? The ice did?

Lilia: Yep. Apparently, there were these microorganisms trapped in the ice which would shine different colors in the darkness.

Lilia: I had hoped that if it were real, I would be able to bring it home with me. So I trekked up the mountain, but the path was a lot more dangerous than I had expected.

Lilia: On the way, the river flooded, a blizzard raged, and I even had to deal with a volcanic eruption…

Lilia: It was just disaster after disaster.

Vil: How much of that is actually true? It's hard to believe your stories.

Lilia: Of course, it's all true! It was so difficult of a trip that even I started to get despondent along the way…

Lilia: But in the end, it was worth the struggle.

Lilia: When I reached the cave, I found it. I had found these hunks of ice that were shining in all colors of the rainbow!

Lilia: I had found four, all about the size of my palm.

Lilia: I used magic to prevent them from melting and brought them home.

Lilia: There, I split them up between myself, Malleus, Silver and Sebek.

Lilia: So the four of us all had a matching souvenir. They were all so very ecstatic, and that pleased me.

Lilia: But then. It turned out that Malleus's magic had far surpassed my expectations.

Lilia: He breathed some fire in a bit of fun, and I thought that I had placed the ice a good distance away…

Lilia: But his ice completely melted away.

Lilia: When that happened… Malleus didn't show it on his face, but you could tell he was really downtrodden.

Vil: Is that what you meant by disappointment? I can't imagine Malleus getting that sad.

Lilia: I think that it was because they were all the same gift that it would have been extremely painful to lose his.

Lilia: That's why I have to be extra cautious when choosing souvenirs… Hm? This is…

Vil: Did you find something you think might work? Oh, isn't that…

Lilia: Hmm. Hmmmm. Ohoho…

Lilia: Alright. I've decided on this to be their grand gift!

Vil: Hmmm, coming from you, this is a pretty tasteful gift.

[Diasomnia Dorm – Lounge]

Sebek: WELCOME HOME, LILIA-SAMA!

Silver: It seems like you had a good time away, Father.

Lilia: Yeah! It was a very worthwhile trip, and I even got to deepen my bonds with my classmates.

Lilia: Okay, so now it's time for the gifts you've all been waiting for. Take it, take it.

Malleus: This many…!?

Sebek: Th-Thank you.

Lilia: Take it back to your room and have fun with it.

Malleus: Hm? This is…

Lilia: Ah, Malleus. Looks like you've spotted the main feature of this item.

Silver: Is this woven fabric? It's colorful and rather beautiful.

Lilia: Right, right? It's a traditional fabric from Sunset Savanna.

Sebek: This is spectacular. It would do good as a lap blanket, or even wrapped like a scarf.

Lilia: I bought four of them with the same pattern. We all get to keep one.

Malleus: The same…? Hm, so they are matching souvenirs…

Sebek: Hm? This cloth. It has something written on it.

Lilia: Oh, so you noticed. There are phrases and messages woven into the fabric.

Silver: This says…

Malleus: "Hakuna Matata"?

Lilia: You should research the meaning yourselves. That will also be part of your training. However, let me say something about this.

Lilia: If you ever lose this matching item, don't lose heart.

Lilia: Because the feelings that I've put into this gift will always stay with you.

Lilia: Right?

Malleus: …

Malleus: Yes, you're right.

Grim: Oh, they're here. Heeeey!

Lilia: Grim, and [Yuu]. What's up, why've you come all this way?

Grim: [Yuu] said they had something they wanted to give to Lilia, so we came.

Lilia: Something you want to give me?

1. Please take this.

2. Everyone, please take a look.

Lilia: Oh, you shouldn't have. Thanks! So, what did [Yuu] bring us here?

Lilia: This is… a photo? Oh, it's a picture of me.

Grim: It's a picture of you during Catch the Tail. Isn't it a great pic? You should be grateful!

Sebek: [Yuu] took the picture, right? Why are you the one acting all cocky?

Silver: Oh, but it truly is well taken. It's such a lively-looking expression.

Malleus: Indeed. You look to be having a fantastic time.

Lilia: Kufufu. Even I can enjoy some sport under the blazing sun from time to time.

Malleus: Heh.

Lilia: What's up, Malleus? Was there something funny captured in the photo?

Malleus: It's just your expression here. I wish I could have seen it up close and personal.

Sebek: Ah, come to think of it… We've seen many pictures that Lilia-sama has taken in his travels,

Sebek: But we haven't had the pleasure of seeing many photos with him in it.

Silver: When you put it that way, that makes this picture even more valuable…

Lilia: Whaaat. You all seem so pleased, all grinning like that over someone else's picture.

Lilia: This is starting to look like it’s a better gift than the souvenirs I brought them. [Yuu], how could you～

Lilia: I can't believe they'd be so happy with a picture of me. That's not a reaction I would have been able to predict at all.

(Part 1) Part 2

[sleepingdayaway]

Mess AU

Okay I did another thing except this time it’s from @cloudninetonine mess au which I highly recommend you check out!

I sorta had an idea when I was thinking about it, but when I actually started writing it just all went away. So yeah sorry if it sucks-

If [Name] is going to be completely honest, they weren’t expecting this outcome as they sat with Nat. Currently the both of them are sitting together; enjoying a variety of fruits on a plate, as they observe the big man interacting with the other Ganon’s in the group. A small thought appeared in [color hair] as they chewed on a grape, ‘If Sky was here he would be losing his shit over them.’

As if knowing he was mentioned, the flame hair colored man perked up to look at the two who sat away from the rest. He had a huge figure, the same fiery red hair as his other incarnations, but looking closer it’s as if his hair was actually fire. The only difference is his body compared to the others. 

If a regular person were to take a quick glance they would think nothing of it, except when you look closer you can see the dark scales with a hint of red covering his body. The red in between the scales looks to be dimming out, as if to match his breathing. Looking up at his face the first thing you would see is the ‘X’ scar right in the middle of his forehead. The face and build of a man who has seen war, and has lived through it himself. The mix of a humanoid man, but also something that is inhuman.

No wonder, throughout history many have called him the Demon King.

But as [Name] watched the man walk over to them, the aura that radiated around him was not one of a god who brought hate and fear into the lives of many. Instead it was one of hesitance and unsure on whether it was alright for him to approach; he stares at the duo as if asking for their permission to get closer. In sync [Name] and Nat turn their heads to look at each other and squint their eyes, in a silent conversation. Nat looks up at the man before hesitantly nodding meanwhile [Name] grabbed at a strawberry to snack on.

Demise, the all mighty, the one who cursed the Chosen Hero and Hylia’s incarnation in an infinite cycle of hatred. Carefully lowered himself on the grassy ground before the two friends, and carefully observed them, not once uttering a single word. From behind the strange group, stood a man carefully eyeing them, a sense of wanting to be near them, but he didn’t act on it as he walked away.

Nature, one of the incarnations of the man before him, has no clue on how to feel about the man that sits in front of him. The other Ganon’s seemed a bit standoffish at first to him, but appeared to slowly warm up as they continued their adventure. Especially King and Eve, who looked to hang onto every word that Demise says. Nat always knew what he had to do to keep everything in order for the world to function, and knew that during his time there was someone that guided him. To put it simply, it’s just a bit awkward to finally meet the person who helped you, after a long time. 

[Name] knows all about Demise; his purpose and what he has done. As well as the importance of the balance that he brings to the world, if spending long agonizing hours to days on the concept of righteousness and the evil and torment of the world counts as understanding. Yet as they stare at Demise and notice how he struggles to speak to them, that throws away all negative stereotypes that had built up from the years of lore they’ve read. He kind of looks like a father who has no idea on how to communicate with his child instead just sits there and believes that they’re spending time together.

It was a moment of awkward silence between the three of them, [Name] and Nat still enjoying the fruits, until it was surprisingly broken by Demise. “I have been told that you are not connected with any of my descendants, that you merely happened to come across in their travels.” 

A natural side eye occurred as he glanced at the Master Sword that is sheathed beside [Name]; that did not go unnoticed by them. There was a faint pulse of a blue glow when his eyes landed on the weapon. Maintaining eye contact with the Demon King as they spoke up without hesitance in their voice, “I’m no hero, if that’s what you’re wondering about.”  

“Yet you hold the sword that was forged by Hylia herself, and was wielded by her Chosen Hero.” He responded with a calm tone; although his facial features say a different tale he made no move to do anything. Tide who had been listening in on the conversation subtly shifted to be closer, in case he needed to intervene. 

Shuffling in their seat at the question that was directed towards them, “That is true, I’m aware that you have history with this sword, but it is currently in my care. I also have no affiliation to those people.” Demise huffs slightly at that response before sitting up more; glancing down at them as if he is trying to appear more menacing. It was at this moment did [Name] finally realize who they were talking to, silently cursing under their breath.

“Tell me young one, what exactly are your motives? You must have some connection towards the Goddess.” 

[Name] blinks a couple times before speaking, “None- I actually don’t know why I ended up here, but all I can say is that I’m grateful for everyone here. I owe them a lot.”

Now that caught Demise’s attention as he leaned a bit forward, “Is that so? Would you care to-”

“Alright! I think that’s enough on interrogating my friend,” Nat replied as he slightly shoved Demise away from [Name], and began leaning into them more which reminded them of when Wind would also do the same whenever they didn’t want to explain something.

Tide, who was watching everything, smiled softly at Nature’s protective action. Yes, they’ve all grown fond of the little traveler. Swearing with all the power that they hold that they would keep [Name] safe, and help them return back to their original group. Slowly did that topic of conversation change amongst them, and now they appear to be in deep conversation about a certain topic.

One that has [Name] talking animatedly about and with Demise listening intently. Nat, who began sharing the platter of assortment of fruit, also spoke up a couple of times. Tide, feeling the need to no longer worry, returned his gaze to the one person, who appeared to yearn on joining. No matter how much he tries to hide it.

The man sat in front of Tide with a neutral expression on his face. Shockingly white hair covers one of his eyes as he stares intently into the open flame without flinching away from the light. His red cloak lays neatly folded beside him, before looking up at the man who has been nothing but kind to him.

“Ghirahim, you do realize that you have the right to speak to him, correct?”

Ghirahim looks up in a slight daze, his visible eye appearing hazy for a moment before closing and shaking head. A smirk lifts on his painted lips and a facade of mischief covers his face. “I’m well aware of what I can and cannot do, such a foolish question.”

Although that doesn’t discourage the older figure from trying to bring comfort. It’s the least he can do for the companion of his predecessor, the one who’s been there since the beginning, but he was also the one who has been disconnected from Demise the longest.