#they’ll still have a wedding don’t worry

[foundmywei]

Buddie Fanfic Recs 3

Here are my favorite buddie fics, I will be updating this as I read~

Check Part 1 and Part 2 for more

10k words or under

still by brewrosemilk

(9,368 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

For the first time, Buck longs for a bullet wound to treat. Dirt to dig at. A door to break through. Something. There’s nothing. “Your guess was correct, Diaz,” the bomb technician tells them, as he gestures to the orange circle. “You’re standing on a large sensor plate, wired to a detonator. It’s incredibly important that you don’t move. Don’t shift. When you put your weight down, it was like cocking a gun - you take your weight off, this thing is powerful enough to take the entire house with it." Inspired by Castle, S05E22: Still

If You Said I Do I Would Too by giselleslash

(5,894 words | General Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

Eddie starts telling people Buck’s his husband to get out of annoying flirting situations on calls. Buck starts to like it a little too much.

platonic co-parents don’t kiss like we do by thelikesofus

(7,113 words | Mature | Chapters: 1/1)

Chimney wants it on public record that if he ever goes to therapy the bill is to be sent to Buck and Eddie, and that should he ever end up in an early grave for reasons related to his co-workers and their absolutely unhinged inability to act like normal people they will also be paying for all of the flowers at the funeral—and Chimney wants a lot of flowers. OR 5 times other people see Buck and Eddie kiss + 1 time they really mean it.

baby, say you'll always keep me by hattalove

(8,251 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

“Yeah,” Eddie says, and the darkness behind his eyelids takes on a white edge. “Be good. Nice to be married,” he yanks on Buck’s t-shirt, “best friend.” Finally, Buck takes a breath that sounds off somehow, but he laughs too, and that sounds normal, Eddie thinks. A normal laugh. “Sure, Eds,” he says, and there’s his hand in Eddie’s hair again, a puff of breath on the crown of Eddie’s head like Buck leaned in to press a kiss there and then stopped, but why would he stop—“I’ll marry you if you remind me tomorrow.” or the one in which joking about being married to your best friend is all fun and games, right up until you realize that you're not laughing.

11k-40k words

I can see it in your eyes (do you mean it?) by smilingbuckley

(29,353 words | Explicit | Chapters: 6/6)

Eddie hears that his cousin is getting engaged. Not wanting to get set up by multiple family members on awkward dates so he can bring someone to the wedding, he and Buck plan to fake date. They put a lot of thought into it, getting comfortable with PDA, going on fake dates, even practicing kissing once... and then it's finally time to travel to El Paso. But faking it is hard when he's not really faking it at all. -- He fully blames his rom-com brain, having just watched The Proposal – the fake dating classic, if you ask him or Chimney. “What if I’m your fake date?” Eddie’s head snaps sideways so fast, Buck worries about whiplash. “What?” Buck shrugs, trying to play it cool, but really, his heart is beating loudly in his chest. “I mean, people sometimes already think we’re a couple. We’re very comfortable around each other, so sharing a bed or holding hands wouldn’t be too bad. That way your family could back off. And, I don’t know, maybe a few weeks after, you say we decided to just be friends and leave it at that. Or you don’t and they’ll back off full-time with the dates.” Eddie stares at him, “You’d do that for me?” “Sure,” Buck answers, like it’s no big deal.

you could call me babe for christmas ('tis the damn season) by prettyboybuckley

(30,268 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 2/2)

"You could come with me," Buck blurts out, his own eyes going wide as he processes what he just said. Eddie looks at him with his mouth hanging open, eyebrows slowly creasing into a frown and Buck's mind grapples for an explanation, even if the reason he said it is quite simple: he always feels safer with Eddie by his side. "My parents want me to come to El Paso," Eddie says, and he looks like the words taste bitter in his mouth. "I'd love to get out of that, but I can't just leave Christopher with Abuela or Pepa while I run to Pennsylvania. Never mind that my parents would never accept it without a good reason." "Christopher can come, of course." OR: Buck and Eddie pretend to be dating as Buck takes the Diaz boys along to Hershey. Once there, things get a little out of hand, and Buck comes to a realization...

Ready-made Family by Dark_Rosaleen

(15,884 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 6/6)

“Sure, I love the zoo.” Chris is saying with that perfectly adorable giggle that makes Eddie want to melt whenever he hears it—which is far too infrequently these days. “My dad takes me there all the time.” Eddie’s head snaps up at that, quick and sharp. His fingers go numb and he scrambles uselessly with the tongs as they fall with a loud clatter against the grill. Because Eddie can count the times he’s been to the zoo on one hand. It’s Buck who’s been taking Christopher there nearly once a week for years.

change the prophecy by Daisies_and_Briars

(30,150 words | Mature | Chapters: 12/12)

Buck has never felt secure in any of his relationships; he’s been searching for someone to see him the way he feels he’s meant to be seen, but after things start going downhill with Tommy, he thinks that person might just not exist. Eddie cannot figure out what’s wrong with him when it becomes clear things with Marisol aren’t going to work out. But what if they’re both forgetting something?

made your mark on me (a golden tattoo) by thatbuddie (talktothesky)

(15,010 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

“I want another tattoo.” Eddie shatters the silence delicately, careful not to disturb the peace that cocoons them. Pressing his hand further on Eddie’s shoulder, because he knows Eddie like no one has ever known him before, like no one will ever know him again, Buck asks, “Here?” Eddie nods, tightening his fingers around Buck’s forearm. “It’s kind of…” Eddie pauses to find the perfect words, until he realizes he doesn’t need them. “It’s kind of for you. And for me. For us. You could… I’d like you to get it too.” The corners of Buck’s lips curl in a soft smile as his fingers curl around Eddie’s shoulder. “I’d like to get it too.” (or, Buck and Eddie keep getting matching tattoos, and then discover that maybe everyone is right when they think it means something more.)

40k+ words

we found love right where we were by Polish_Amber

(70,004 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 7/7)

May realised a very long time ago that Buck was basically her stepbrother. So, when the lightning strike finally provided the impetus for Bobby to admit that he also brought a kid into their family, she had every intention of seizing the opportunity to properly integrate Buck into the Grant-Nash family. And, look, if in the process she also gains a brother-in-law… clearly the universe was just waiting for the opportunity to make that happen. - Or, the one where May ensures Buck is enfolded properly into the Grant-Nash clan, which means Bobby (and by extension the firefam, because gossip) suddenly gets significantly more insight into the inner workings of the Buckley-Diaz family, and all roads lead to Buddie…

Anywhere I Want, Just Not Home by Daisies_and_Briars

(54,856 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Series - 3 parts)

Part 1: When a work conflict prevents Athena from accompanying Bobby to Minnesota for the ten year anniversary of his family dying, Buck and May offer to go instead. Over the course of the trip, they all learn more about each other, and Bobby faces his grief. Part 2: When unexpected circumstances require Buck to travel back to Hershey for the first time in over a decade, Eddie and Chris are right by his side. Part 3: The dynamics between everyone change when Buck and Eddie have another child and Bobby moves on from the 118. Affectionately referred to as the "Grandpa Bobby fic"

Evan Buckley & The Coma-Verse of Madness by Daisies_and_Briars

(57,964 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 15/15)

After being struck by lightning on a call, Buck experiences a plethora of alternate realities showing him different directions his life could have taken. Fighting hard to get home, Buck learns what, or who, is important to him in every lifetime. Inspired by a mix of Marvel multiverses and The Midnight Library by Matt Haig.

and here, too, am i by Daisies_and_Briars

(41,117 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 4/4)

Six months into their marriage, Eddie is still struggling to decide whether or not he wants more kids, when he knows Buck does. The universe may not scream, but it certainly talks.

Leading with the Left by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

(84,763 words | Explicit | Chapters: 18/18)

When Buck said he was a "bartender" in "South America" what he actually meant was "stripper" in "Mexico." And when Eddie said, "What's your problem?" what he actually meant was, "Is this about the time you gave me a lap dance?" In other words, there's a few things the 118 doesn't know about Buck. Or Eddie. Or Buck and Eddie's relationship.

that magic feeling by woodchoc_magnum

(42,694 words | Explicit | Chapters: 2/2)

An alternate ending to season 7, in which Eddie doesn't completely blow his life up, and he and Buck realise they're in love.

[scribblebirddd]

What do you do when you’re planning your wedding as galactic conquerors but one night you get a little too Lit together and end up eloping on Vegas 6, making out in a public fountain where you lose your shirt, spray painting your van with “JUS MARRID”, and driving to the middle of nowhere only to wake up hung over with no idea where you are?

Why, you drive to the nearest gas station and call your arch enemies to pick you up, of course! …And see if they have any sunglasses for one eyed aliens, please.

[ynscrazylife]

THE BAT IN THE SHADOWS 🦇🕸️

— CHAPTER ONE

Summary: Bruce Wayne is the happiest he’s ever been in a while. He has a beautiful wife, amazing children, and is stopping crime left and right as Batman. All that shatters when you, his wife, mysteriously disappears.

Pairings: Bruce Wayne x Wife!Reader, Batfamily x Batmom!Reader

Series Masterlist

They came for you when you least expected it.

That’s how it always goes, right?

You were on your way home from Gotham’s Police Station, where you worked as one of the best detectives. You were already running late, as you so often did when you were deep into cases, and you weren’t paying much attention to your surroundings. You knew this city like the back of your hand, even when it was dark out, you could probably navigate home with your eyes closed.

You grabbed your phone from your pocket, wanting to update your husband that you’d be home soon. You already told him that you’d be a little late but you knew how he worried, and how he hated when you tended to push yourself at work with an abundance of cases.

Just as you began to type out a message, a sudden bolt of electricity hit you square in your back. You could hardly form a thought before your muscles locked, body tensing and seizing up, and you collapsed onto the ground, going limp.

Your phone shattered to the floor, the screen cracking as it met the pavement — just like your forehead, blood spilling as you banged your head.

A foot came smashing down on the phone, rendering it completely useless.

“Should we grab the phone? We don’t want anyone to know she’s gone.”

“She built a life for herself here. They’ll know either way, but they won’t get her back.”

Two pairs of arms hauled you up from the ground, dragging you back, legs and feet roughly hitting the sidewalk over and over again. Your wedding ring slips off your finger, falling onto the ground.

“Tell Dreykov we’ve got her. She’s coming home.”

One of the agents pushed a button on their belt. It began blinking and, wish a flash, the three of them — one unconscious — disappeared into thin air.

No one was around to see. It was a rather quiet night.

//

Bruce couldn’t help but be a bit disappointed when you still hadn’t shown up. Usually you’d text him if you were going to have a late night at the office, but you’d gotten to a habit of forgetting to send it over the past few weeks, too engrossed in whatever case was on your desk. Bruce already didn’t think that staying so light and pushing yourself was good for you, the forgotten texts made his stomach twist even more.

“Alfred, you haven’t heard from Y/N, have you?” Bruce asked, already knowing the answer.

His butler fixed him with a regretful, pitying look. He’d heard this question many a time before. “No, Sir. Perhaps one of the children has?” Alfred suggested. They both knew that if you hadn’t texted Bruce, you hadn’t texted anyone else.

Still, Alfred followed his boss into the main living room, where the kids were lounging. “Have any of you talked to your mother?” Bruce asked.

He received shakes of heads and murmurs of no.

Bruce sighed, sinking into his eloquent armchair, gaze resting on the clock as its hands ticked by. It was getting late, even for your standards. Should he be worried? You always scolded Bruce for being too overprotective, but still . . .

“Dad, look!”

Bruce snaps his head to see his son, Damien, standing over at the window. He joins him and the rest of the family crowds around, only to gasp in horror.

There, in the sky, is the unmistakable bat light. But not the usual one. No, this one is red. When the two of you got married, Bruce had a small device inserted into your bands. It would be able to detect a hard fall and, upon doing so, would display that light if you were ever in danger.

Bruce’s heart began pounding.

“Stay here. Alfred is in charge,” he instructed. Even though the kids were worried for their mother and wanted to go out with Bruce, no one dared go against him.

Within minutes, Bruce was suited up and hopping on his motorcycle. The Batmobile was too flashy for this time of night and he had no time to worry about making it invisible. Bruce sped off, not caring how cold or loud the air was was. He raced towards that light, expertly driving down the streets.

Coming to a sharp stop, Bruce sprinted towards where he could see the glint of the band. He looked around widely — the street was barren.

It was only when he got close that he noticed your shattered phone on the ground. This damage couldn’t have been done from a simple drop.

Bruce felt sick. Physically sick.

Something had happened to you. Something bad. There was no ransom, no villain threatening him. He always thought he’d know what to do if anyone he ever loved was endangered, but you had been taken from him.

There was never enough preparation for that.

[steddieasitgoes]

When The Buzzer Sounds | A Steddie Big Bang Fic | Coming Soon

Written by: Steddieasitgoes | Art by: @hellfiredemon

Steve's so engrossed in his conversation with Eddie he doesn’t notice the change in music or the enthusiastic cheers of the people around him as they shift their gaze from the court up to the giant Jumbotron above. In fact, it isn’t until Robin is jabbing her own boney elbow into his ribs does he stop talking to asses what the hell is going on. A move he immediately regrets when he realizes what has nearly 20,000 eyes focused on the oversized screens.  The Kiss Cam.  The cameraman stands a few yards away from them, feet solidly on the court with no urgency to move on until he gets what he wants. This isn’t the first time this has happened to them. And it certainly won’t be the last. Whenever they’re in public they’re always SteveandRobin so inseparable they must be dating.  He’s prepared to see his and Robin’s freckled face projected up on the Jumbotron. To give into the routine they have down pact — Robin’s playful retching, Steve’s bewildered shake of his head, the two of them both mouthing “we’re siblings” because it works better than trying to explain their platonic soulmate-ism to a stadium that can’t hear them. Though, maybe this time Robin will go off script and announce that she’s a lesbian — if only because a familiar blonde has returned to the court.  But it’s not their freckled faces that grace him when he looks up. It’s his face, yes. Perfectly combed and styled hair, a smattering of moles, and hazel eyes a little wider than usual staring back at him. But it’s the face to his left that shocks him. Unruly curls frame a pale face. Big, wild, brown eyes stare at him in bewilderment like a deer in headlights.  Shit.  “Um, Steve?” Tearing his eyes away from the Jumbotron is an arduous (another win for Robin’s word of the day calendar) battle Steve almost loses. Not because he’s not strong enough, but because the thought of meeting Eddie’s bewildered eyes head-on is enough to send him running. Still, he does just that, schooling his face in something that, he hopes, resembles a neutral expression.  “Don’t worry, they’ll move on,” Steve says, only half believing the words himself. His first-hand experience with the kiss cam says the exact opposite, but he’s not about to tell Eddie that especially when his words have him nodding in relief and sinking back into the black leather seat. The camera is still pointed at them when he looks away from Eddie. Their faces are still projected onto the massive screens and the stadium of onlookers starts a mix of chants and boos — encouragement and disappointment that they’re not participating in the time-honored, tradition. At least everyone in his row is silent, not even Dustin makes a move to join the onslaught of harassment from strangers which is further proof of what a colossal mess they’ve found themselves in. 

Or:

The year is 1998 and Lucas is set to make his NBA debut. Nothing is going to keep Steve from being there to witness this monumental moment. Eddie apparently shares the same sentiment and the two find themselves in the same place at the same time for the first time since they blurred the lines of their once-solid friendship four years ago at Dustin's wedding.

Surprisingly, Steve and Eddie manage to fall back into their friendship easily. That is until their playful conversation at half-time gets interpreted as flirting and the two find themselves the latest victims in the dreaded Kiss Cam tradition. With a stadium watching and his own desire taking over, Steve must decide if kissing Eddie "for the bit" is worth jeopardizing their rekindled friendship.

Who knows, maybe a peer-pressured kiss will be the spark to get them to talk about that night four years ago when everything changed.

Project #009 for @steddiebang2024 | 15K Expected Word Count | Mature

[blackhairedjjun]

white peonies

pairing: choi yeonjun x gender neutral reader [reader is called "beautiful" once] | genre / tropes: royalty au, fluff, comfort, yeonjun and reader are engaged | word count: 1.25k | warnings: pet names (darling, love), mentions of classism

summary: the night before your wedding, you - a humble gardener who has won the heart of the crown prince - feel some doubts. fortunately, your husband-to-be is there for you.

author's notes: this is a spin-off to my previous multichapter fic, flowers of every color (specifically it is an epilogue to the good ending). but this can also be read on its own as a standalone oneshot!

(support by reblogging banner by @cafekitsune)

on the night before your wedding, the greenhouse is quiet. there’s no one else here but you, and you’re grateful for the solitude; the gardening staff hired to replace you have all gone to bed, and you can revel in your old life one more time. your fingers brush the petals of the newly bloomed white peonies on the greenhouse table and you smile. they’ve grown beautifully, their snow-white petals bursting out like fireworks, and they’ve been cut and arranged in vases and bouquets just in time to be put into position tomorrow. regret stings at you that you barely tended to them personally.

you’ve been told time and time again that you don’t need to do gardening work anymore now that you’re about to become the prince’s spouse and consort 一 and you’ve been too busy with new duties to do so anyway. still, you miss that old life, and the small garden plot assigned for “royal leisure” isn’t enough.

without even realizing it, you start checking each flower for signs of infestation or infection. you inspect the leaves, the petals, and the cut ends of the stems, searching for holes left by bug bites or parts that have gone mushy and brown. you examine the water inside their vases, making sure they’re clear and free of any debris. and when each cut flower is satisfactorily healthy to you, you move on to the next one; you walk slowly down the long table, examining vase after vase, caring for them as if they were your own. (they’re the flowers for your wedding; in a sense, they are your own.)

the task keeps you busy enough that the tumultous energy swirling in your stomach slows down just a bit. the solitude comforts you; it’s just you and the flowers, away from the prying eyes of the castle, of the royal council, of all the guests who will come flooding in tomorrow...

your inspection is interrupted by a creak in the door. as it opens, you jump back and start a response 一 i just want to look at them before i go, that’s all 一 until the dim greenhouse light illuminates the face of your groom.

your shoulders droop and relief washes over you.

“i thought i’d find you here.” yeonjun makes his way to you and wraps his arms around your waist from behind. he pulls you close and you relax in his hold, though your tumultous feelings haven’t been shaken off completely. he too can feel the hurried rhythm of your pulse.

“why is my darling still awake?” he whines, kissing the crown of your head. “you need to be well-rested for tomorrow...”

“i know, love.” you sigh and turn to face him. “i just needed to get my nerves out.”

“you always come here when you’re nervous. tell me, darling... you can tell me what’s on your mind.”

“i’ve already told you a hundred times, you don’t want to hear it.”

“but i do.” he pushes aside a stray lock of hair from your face and cups your cheek. even now the gesture makes your heart flutter. “i don’t care if you’ve told me a hundred times. if you’re worried, i want you to tell me.”

you’re quiet for a few moments. you turn away from yeonjun and glance at the peonies; even after admitting it to him so many times before, it never feels any less shameful.

“it’s tomorrow... all the dukes and counts and visiting royal families from other kingdoms... they’ll see me, and they...”

you trail off. yeonjun pulls you into a tight embrace, one hand coming up to run through your hair. he knows about this worry all too well after you’ve told him countless times throughout your engagement. he’s heard the gossip making its way through his circles of royalty and nobility. he’s even held several returned invitations from guests who have declined to come or even send a gift.

he’s a prince marrying a commoner 一 his family’s own gardener 一 and breaking tradition. many noble and royal families took the engagement as a personal slight that their own eligible offspring had been overlooked in favor of a common worker. others heard that the prince had turned down a powerful queen’s daughter for a love match and took the queen’s side, hoping to prove their allegiance. still others simply thought that he was being undignified.

but those whispers of disdain have little meaning for yeonjun. he holds you for as long you let him, slotting your face into the crook of his neck until your nerves have settled down.

“i know what you’re going to say,” you whisper into his neck. “you don’t care about any of that, they don’t see me the way you do...”

he chuckles and you can feel his breaths tickling your ear. “then you know that i mean all of it, right?”

“i know. but i still worry, i shouldn’t worry一”

“shhh.” he leaves another kiss on the crown of your head. “if you can’t stop worrying about these things, then at least let me carry the burden with you.”

“you don’t have to...”

“i want to.”

you nod and close your eyes, burying yourself in him; his hold on your waist grows firmer. you are reminded of how lucky you are to know yeonjun, to be in love with him, to be spending the rest of your life with him. the princely crown is a weight he carries with dignity, and the kingly crown he will wear one day is even heavier, yet he is more than willing to carry your own burdens alongside his. he proves it to you right here: instead of going to bed early like he should, he holds you close right before his own wedding — your own wedding — because you matter to him more than any duty.

what he knows is that he can carry his burdens only because you are by his side.

for a few moments you let him hold you, feeling your own heartbeat steady as it syncs with his. the tumult swirling within you doesn’t go away completely, but it does slow down enough that your mind feels clear again.

you give him a quick kiss on his neck right before you pull away. “thank you, jjunie.”

he smiles you see his ears turn red. even after all this time, you still have that effect on him.

yeonjun glances over at the white peonies lined up on the table, waiting to be positioned in the early hours of the morning. he purses his lips and tuts. “the ones you grow are prettier.”

“don’t say that! the new gardeners did a perfectly fine job. i looked at them and they’re all healthy.” your cheeks betray you anyway as they grow warm at his compliment.

“healthy, sure. but prettier? your flowers are almost as beautiful as you.”

now your face is a mess of red. “stop that! you’re making me一 i一”

“you know it’s true, darling.”

you shake your head but slip your hands into his. he gives you a teasing smile, but the redness in his ears hasn’t gone away.

“then will you convince the council to let me do more gardening once we’re married? or at least give me a real garden instead of that tiny plot?”

“oh, i’m already talking them into it.” he steps closer and brushes his nose against yours. “and if they don’t let you have it, then i’ll dig up one myself.”

notes: hehe happy holidays everyone!! i wanna give a special thank you to @doumachi - mey's prince yeonjun thoughts and letting me scream in their inbox inspired me to revisit this old world again and write this. i love prince jjunie so 🥺

bringing back the original taglist: @seosalad @lilplilplilp @yeonboy @pyuae @hyuneyeon @strawbrinkofdeath @yushiu @mazeinthemoon @banggyu0308 @shytubatu @kyaneosprincess @agustdiv1ne @whippedforbeomgyu @justineasian @skywithf1 @wrongbathroom @choizzn @bangchansbae @huskyhunny @catsyoon @flowerbe0m

[saerins]

⋆୨ chapter one ୧˚ thorns without flowers, bars with no drinks

⋆୨ if not for you (masterlist) ⋆୨ previous: prologue - all see through just like glass <> next: chapter two - a million miles away, still you connect me in your way ୧˚

⋆୨ synopsis ୧˚ neither of you want this. both you and sae reluctantly agree to this marriage, although sae’s dissatisfaction far outweighs your own. with hidden agendas and old flames, will this ever work out between the two of you, or will your forced spark be doomed to fail?

ೀ series: sae x f!reader | wc 5k | ೀ content warnings: fluff/angst, modern au, arranged marriage, rich!sae and rich!reader, hostility on sae’s part, profanity, your marriage is not off to a very good start, both yn and sae both have other … options. | notes: ty i appreciate all of you who are reading this <3 i added everyone who asked to be tagged ^_^ lemme know if i missed you !!

The day has finally arrived. After two months of painstaking preparations, it’s your special day today. Not that your parents have given you any say on your own special day. You wonder if your future husband got the same treatment too. That is, if he was even interested in it.

Everyone has arrived, the chefs are ready, people are dressed to the nines, photographers are already snapping away. More than half the guests, most of which you barely know, have come to speak to you, to congratulate you, but it all still feels so surreal.

Is this really happening?

There’s a lot of important people in attendance today, a lot of them you don’t even know personally. Which is funny, considering that it’s your wedding. Of course, both sets of parents were in charge of the invites, and your actual friends probably only account for fifteen percent of the entire list. (With Sae’s friends, probably totaling thirty percent.) The rest are spaces filled by people in power—political, business, what have you. It’s no surprise; your parents (and you guess Sae’s as well) are great at networking, and of course these people would attend such an event—two kids of rivalling companies getting married would signify a possibly huge shift in market share, and they’d probably like to be here to witness for themselves if this is some sort of sham. If this lasts, then they’ll have to move their money around, that’s for sure.

It is kind of a sham, but you’re trying to get that out of your head. This can’t possibly be anything but a ruse to further their own gains. Parents are like that, as much as you know.

“Hey, are you sure about this? There’s still time to back out, you know?”

Beside you, your ever observant younger sister offers you a sad smile; a product of the guilt she feels because despite you not telling her, she knows you’re just trying to keep the crosshairs away from her. She must’ve realised that your feet are colder than you thought. But as far as you’re concerned, better you than her.

She has a happy relationship with one of the nicest guys she’s ever met, and the last time you’d spoken to him, he’d confessed to wanting to marry her. The only downside to it all is that your sister is way too filial—if your parents tried to force her to get married to someone of their choice, she’d give in eventually, and you don’t want that.

Besides, you don’t have anyone. No love interest, no potential suitors—what’s the worst that could happen to you? As long as Sae is decent enough of a human being, you’re sure you’ll be fine.

“I’m sure, so don’t worry about me, okay?” Your hands come up to her shoulders, squeezing slightly, offering your best and most radiant smile.

Sensing that there’s only more of your dear sister’s worry coming, you’re grateful that a timely knock comes from the doorway. You hold back a sigh of relief before turning to look at your visitor, and you stiffen up when you realise who it is.

“Is this a bad time?”

Your sister speaks up before you do. “Oh, Itoshi Sae, of course not!” There’s a sense of excitement in her voice that masks her earlier concern; it’s kind of sad that the art of faking is a necessity of living in the world you do. It’s one of the essential skills. You either fake it or face consequences. “I’m all done here, you two should talk.”

With that, she bounces out of the room, and you wonder just what kind of thoughts she’s having—her happiness is kind of infectious. Sure, Reo had said countless times that if Sae was ever a dick to you, he’d punch him in the guts for you. So far, he doesn’t have to. It’s nice that he made the time to visit you before the ceremony, it’d be nice to meet just once before after all.

“Hi, um, it’s nice to meet you.” It’s the best you can do when you’re halfway gaping at how good your future husband looks. There’s nothing that needs to be said for his face; his red-brown hair frames his face just nice, his teal eyes makes it feel like he can see right through you, and those naturally long lashes of his makes you envious. He’s wearing a simple black tux—but you know there’s nothing simple about the price tag. Not for his tux, nor for your couture wedding dress. He still looks handsome all the same, and you realise now why so many girls seem to be all over him from all those forums you’d been reading up on.

Still, as charming as he looks, he makes you slightly uncomfortable with that especially long silence, your eyes falling on his gaze, his teal eyes seeming like they’re posing you silent questions. You remain quiet, waiting for his next move. It’s almost like you submit by default.

Some foolish part of you, the hopeless romantic, is hoping you and him can hit it off right away, but even you know that’s asking for too much. Sae proves you right when he finally opens his mouth.

“I wanted to set things straight before we go through with anything.”

Just like that, with just those few words, Sae has managed to strip all the hope out of you. Nothing good can come out of those words, coupled with that monotonous tone of his. This isn’t the face of a man who’s happy to get married, and certainly not one of a man who is even willing.

Though, can you really say you are?

“I only said yes because I was forced to,” Sae tells you, not explaining more than he needs to. The line is drawn—thick with a black marker, something you can’t miss even if you wanted to. “Just play your part, act happy, and you can drop the act once we’re done with this today.”

There’s something in his bossy attitude that doesn’t sit right with you, but you’re too busy being disappointed in yourself to do anything about it. All you allow is a nod, because even without Sae saying it, you had planned to give your biggest smile later anyway, no matter how fake it is. Thing is, you had imagined that Sae was less… hostile than this. Honestly, maybe you had been hoping for him to at least put some effort into liking the situation, but from how he is now, it doesn’t look like it at all.

“Okay then, see you.”

Sae barely looks at you before he turns and walks off toward the door, right about to turn the corner when he’s stopped by your parents. Of course, they’re more than delighted to see him. They’d been convincing you hard to this arranged marriage, claiming how you’re so horrible at romance that they really are just pushing you to do this so they can have an heir early. If you ever did have a child, you can only be sure how you want to not treat them like. Your parents can be credited for that.

“You look wonderful, Sae!” Your mother is already gushing over Sae’s look as your father has his arm around him, pulling him back to the door.

“So, this is the first time you’re meeting our Y/N right? What do you think, son?” Your father has his Client Services voice switched on—after seeing him work all this time, you can distinguish it in an instant. You wonder if Sae can.

In front of your parents, you’re shocked to see that he’s already putting on an act. There’s a very subtle smile on his face—something that seems so soft and secretive, something that looks like it’s meant to be viewed by exclusive people only—and you find your own heart skipping a beat. You wonder if anyone’s ever been so lucky to be able to see that naturally.

“Your daughter is…” Sae trails off, and you find yourself swallowing the lump in your throat, inwardly asking. yourself why on earth would his opinion matter to you at all. “Pretty.”

It’s a simple word, with an even simpler meaning, and Sae doesn’t even mean it, but you find a heat creeping up your cheeks and you’re not sure why it’s so easy to appease you.

“You’re hopeless, you know that?” Reo says later on, after your parents and Sae have headed off somewhere and Reo takes their place.

Covering your head with your hands, you groan, absolutely annoyed with yourself. “Is it so wrong that I just want my future husband to remotely like me even just a little bit?”

Reo sighs, wondering what kind of luck you have to be born into a family where that isn’t even possible. Usually, people marry someone after they dated them for a while. After they can ascertain they’re good for them and that they have the capacity to put them first. Somehow, you’d been stripped of that because your parents, of all people, are the ones encouraging you to get married to someone who doesn’t love you. Hell, they even know that you and Sae don’t even know each other.

It’s pitiful, really. You’re a nice person, and Reo would shake you and convince you not to do this if he could, but it’s not like you can afford anyone to lose faith in you. If they do, how will you keep up your act? So, he’ll play his part as your best friend and just support you—he’ll deal with Sae separately if he ever dares to treat you horribly.

“Does he even know how to be nice to people?” You ponder out loud, whining, pouting as you gaze at nothing at all, the ticking of the clock making you more nervous by the second.

The wedding ceremony is half an hour away now.

Reo takes a seat beside you, leaning an elbow against your dresser. “Hmm, I heard about him from friends of friends—but all of them say he’s more of an asshole than your average person,” Reo fills you in, though you probably guessed that by yourself.

Of course, he chooses not to disclose the fact that Sae has an alleged ex he can’t get over, because what good would that do you? You’ll just get all FBI-mode and try to find her socials and find reasons you’ll never measure up and say shit like maybe that’s why Sae isn’t interested in you.

Still, you look like a hot mess and Reo has to encourage you somehow, or else you’ll end up walking up that aisle like you’re marrying Lord Farquaad. “Oi, Y/N, what I hear is he’s just a tough nut to crack.”

“I get it, Reo, I’ll probably end up talking to the wall everyday at home since my husband won’t even talk to me.”

Reo rolls his eyes, pressing his lips into a firm line and putting his hands on your shoulders, taking care not to shake you or else your hairdo will come off and he’ll have your hairdresser absolutely seething. He’s not about to try and owe her anything or else he’ll end up bald just from having to offer her a wig.

“Hey, he’s just a tough nut to crack,” he repeats, and he sighs in exasperation when you still don’t get it. “So crack him, stupid. You’re good at that, right?”

Your eyes widen at Reo’s insinuation, and even more so when you realise it’s an actual good attempt at trying to encourage you. You crack a small laugh and Reo smiles along with you—he thinks that smile looks the best on you.

“If you can crack Nagi of all people, who’s Itoshi Sae?” Reo affirms. Nagi Seishiro, the son of the dean back when all of you were in university, who wanted for nothing except laying in bed all day and playing games, somehow managed to show an interest in helping his mother with her business, and it’s all because of you. Reo still doesn’t know how you did it, but all he knows is that you’re probably magic. (No, he knows you definitely are. You were, once, his once upon a time after all.)

His words stay with you even as you walk down the aisle fifteen minutes later, arm looped around your father’s.

“Be a good wife, okay?” Your father’s words break you out of your reverie. It isn’t the normal way a father would show concern for his child. No, the way he says it is cold and sinister, like it’s a threat. He reminds you why you’ve never had a good relationship with him. “If you screw this up, we’ll all have hell to pay.”

Trust your father to drop a bomb on you right before he passes you to Sae, who receives you with a polite nod. Perhaps, his original reaction is to have no reaction at all—is that nod his form of ‘acting’?

“Dearly beloved, we are all gathered here today—”

The words are lost on you as you try to keep your head in the present. Different thoughts are invading your head from different places that you almost feel overwhelmed from the mess. You can see Sae right in front of you, staring at you, and all you can think of is how you’re going to get along with someone who looks like he doesn’t want to. Growing up with a distant father and a far-too-subservient mother gives you anxiety—what if you end up just like that? Aside from that, instead of the holy words of matrimony, all you can hear is your father’s words repeating themselves in your head.

Hell to pay? Why, exactly? Why did he let go of the flimsy excuse of simply wanting to be his daughter’s matchmaker? What’s he talking about when he involves you in a possible blowback? What’s going on?

“Anytime now, princess.”

Sae’s hushed voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you scramble to gather yourself. “Yes, I do.”

For some reason, Sae’s hands are now around yours, and the glimmer of the diamond on your ring finger reminds you of the gravity of what you’re doing. You’re getting married—to someone you barely know, for a reason you’re somehow not privy to. You’re signing away your life to be with someone who made it clear he’s definitely not interested, who views you as a chore before he bothers to get to know you.

It all terrifies you, if only because this was not what you ever envisioned for yourself. In the audience, you see Reo’s vibrant purple eyes looking at you, a confident smile on his face, nodding as though telling you that you’ve got this. In some ways, it’s reassuring, because once upon a time, you’d thought of Reo as your Prince Charming.

In front of you—not completely oblivious to your subtle actions: trembling fingers, eyes flicking over to that purple-haired boy in the front row, your shallow breathing—Sae puts a gentle hand on your cheek, slowly guiding you to look straight at him. For his part, he has to at least make this believable, to make his parents believe that he’ll follow through with this for years and years so that they’ll never have to bother Rin. Unfortunately for you, you’re his ticket to that end. Like it or not, both of you are in this together.

“Try to look like you’re happy, at least,” Sae breathes against your lips, a soft curve on his lips just for show, as he slowly presses his lips against your own, a satisfaction washing over him as he feels you kiss him back.

Great, step one is done. Now, for the rest of the wedding.

It’s a tough sell. During the reception, you’re acutely aware of how awkward you and Sae are around each other. He tries, occasionally tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear, or offering to feed you food. It’s only because there’s a lot of eyes on both of you.

His hand on your back feels foreign, and forced, and you can’t help feeling sad that he’s not someone who cares for you. The only thing tiding you through is that it’s not necessarily that way for you too.

“You’re a horrible actress,” he whispers, low so only you can hear. He’s right, too. You really do suck at this. “If you don’t at least look happy, we’re both in trouble.”

As if you need a reminder. In some ways, his attitude is similar to your father’s, and not in a good way. It only serves to make his touch more alien.

“Hey, look who’s here,” you hear a very boisterous voice approaching.

A quick turn of your head and you can see who you assume to be Sae’s friends, because surely they’re not yours. The one approaching first looks older, dark hair with green tips, behind him another one with blonde hair and wild pink highlights.

“Hello there, beautiful,” the first one says, reaching out to grab your hand and place a kiss on the back of it.

With a click of his tongue, Sae yanks his hand off of you. “Stop playing, Oliver.”

Oliver. That name sounds oddly familiar.

“At least I wasn’t like Mr Embarrassing here who spilled the wine all over one of the bridesmaids.”

Mr Embarrassing cocks a brow, ready to challenge Oliver. But before either of them can say anything more, Sae cuts in.

“These are my friends—”

“I’m Oliver Aiku,” he introduces himself, properly reaching out his hand this time now, waiting for you to take it at your own pace. 

You stare at him dumbly for a moment before shaking it. “As in, the law firm?”

“At your service,” Oliver smirks.

Of course one of Sae’s friends is the son of the most influential law firms in the whole of Japan. Right as you’re still collecting yourself, Oliver nudges Mr Embarrassing.

Looking completely disinterested, he sighs. “Ryusei Shidou.”

“As in,” you pause for a while, afraid you might be wrong. “As in… the governor Shidou?”

Annoyed, Shidou nods anyway, and Oliver begins to tell you to excuse him because he’s in a shitty mood but you’re not really hearing any of that.

Holy crap. So that must be the infamous son of the governor, the one he keeps carefully hidden away from prying eyes. Given how he’s behaving, and how he looks completely unlike a… typical person here, you’re not that surprised. That’s probably just how tradition is, in their family. Much like how you and the Itoshis have their own as well.

The rest of the celebration goes uneasily, your anxiety forever creeping up your spine, threatening to unravel itself and have you running off to Reo for some sense of familiarity—but that won’t look well: new bride choosing to spend the entire celebration with her best friend instead of her new husband? That’ll just bode a scandal for all three of you, and with this many influential people in the room, from governors to influencers, that’s the dumbest move you can make.

“Well, you two look absolutely beautiful together!”

After your first dance, the Itoshis approach you, both of them seemingly happy on the surface, but given how Sae absentmindedly tightens his grip around your hand, you’re not so sure you should believe in the superficial. Right, because you of all people should know the complications that come with being children of such parents.

It’s like Sae realises what he’s doing before he drops your hand, acting like nothing happened at all.

“Sae. What did we discuss?” The way his father calls his name is absolutely sinister. If you didn’t know any better, you swear they feel like absolute strangers.

Fortunately for you, some other guests come by and steal their attention, both of them relegating to one of the other tables. Beside you, Sae’s jaw is clenched—he’s lost any interest in faking anything for now.

Still, you suppose, if you’re going to get along with him, you probably have to try to reach out… right? Steeling your resolve, you place your hand over his, squeezing it a little, “what was that—”

Without even letting you finish, Sae yanks his hand away, and for the first time today, you’re seeing some genuine emotion behind his eyes. 

And they’re not kind. They’re pretty, but they’re ice cold—the veins on his temple are prominent now, and he really doesn’t care if anyone sees.

“You’re my wife, only on paper,” he hisses through his teeth, still cautious in keeping his voice down. His frustration doesn’t know its boundaries, choosing to take this anger out on you. “Stop trying to poke your nose into my fucking business, we’re strangers, and that’s all we’ll ever be. Drop the act, I’m done for today.”

Just like that, he storms off, which doesn’t quite particularly cause a ruse because for a wedding held for the both of you, there’s not a lot of people here that actually care for either of you. It’s as though this wedding is just a pathetic excuse for a larger-scale networking session.

Feeling even more pathetic yourself, you make sure nobody’s looking before you slip away, retreating to the rooftop garden—you need some fresh air after being so uprightly rejected by your on-paper husband.

Back in the dressing room, Sae locks the door behind him, knowing full well you didn’t deserve to be on the other end of his temper but not being able to bring himself to just apologise. Just as well, he figures. From the looks of it, you seemed pretty hopeful for the bare minimum being a good relationship but Sae can’t see it.

He catches his reflection in the mirror, barely recognising himself. A year ago, getting married wasn’t even in his radar. He’d thought of it before, sure, but would never have guessed in his wildest dreams that he’d get married to you of all people. 

There’s always an agenda for why his parents force these things on their children. If he was a shittier brother, he’d have let them drag Rin back for all he cared. But maybe it’s the way he can’t bear for them to ruin yet another dream that he so easily gave in. Or maybe he thought that this idea wouldn’t be so bad in the first place, maybe it’ll give him the chance to want to move past certain things.

Evidently, it’s not working well.

You’re pretty, and that’s something he didn’t lie about. You really are, but that’s all he can say. He can’t say he sees anything, any hope, any reason for him to want this to work out.

Sae sits down on one corner of the bed, pulling his phone out. He scoffs upon realising he doesn’t even have your number. What kind of fucked up marriage is this? Nothing was handled for either of you, so it’s safe to say that the only thing either set of parents cared about was that this went through. 

As he looks through his phone, contemplating whether to ask Oliver or Shidou to think of an excuse to let him bail from the celebrations before it ends, a text comes in, and this time, all the anger and disappointment disappears, all that’s left is the warm feeling of nostalgia and familiarity.

The contact he hasn’t seen in his notifications for a few years now lights up his phone, and all of a sudden he feels somewhat better. Though, her message itself makes him feel complicated inside.

Sae types a couple of responses, staring at it for a few moments before rephrasing himself and sending it through.

Hours later, after the celebrations are done and both of you are forced to drive back to your new apartment together, you sit in the passenger seat, staring out the window as Sae drives, sitting in complete silence.

As much as you want to save what this marriage could be, you’re not sure where to even start after how he flared up earlier.

Sae keeps his eyes on the road, too enveloped in his own thoughts to bother even turning on the music. His eyes occasionally flick over to your figure. Your fingers are trembling. Are you scared of this all or are you just feeling cold? Either way, he can’t bring himself to care. All he cares about right now is just finding a way out of this stupid farce.

After a fifteen-minute drive, both of you arrive at the apartment building; sleek black walls on the front and twenty-storeys high. Each floor is an apartment in itself, and it doesn’t take a genius to know that only the rich and wealthy stay here. By extension, that means your neighbours are either going to be complete strangers who don’t bother each other, or annoying young kids who host parties and have to be complained against.

Both of you head up to the top floor, neither of you knowing what it’ll look like—it was a gift from both your parents, saying how they picked out the best of the best for their children, and then periodically joking about wanting grandchildren. (You and Sae had completely ignored that part of the conversation.) Sae let you carry your heavy bags on your own, choosing to avoid any sort of eye contact all the way up. He’s just busy on his phone, and you can’t help feeling a little lost.

When you reach the top floor, Sae opens up the door; it’s made of heavy mahogany, slamming right back at you after he strolls in. You take a deep breath, pushing on the door to open and barely making it in, sucking it up because the last thing you want after an entirely shitty day is to have an argument.

Sae doesn’t even stop, just keeps walking, placing his suitcase in what seems to be the master bedroom. Truthfully, you wouldn’t know; this is the first time you’re even seeing the apartment. This entire place is huge, and thanks to this being on the top floor, there’s two floors and a high ceiling. All crisp and clean, walls a bright white, full contrast to the outer walls of the apartment.

Ten seconds later, Sae comes back out, finally making eye contact as he looks at you like you’re dumb for just standing there. If he does think that, he doesn’t say it out loud.

“There’s another room at the far end down the hall, you can use that one,” he tells you, matter-of-factly, as though you wouldn’t retort. (You don’t, but it’s annoying that he takes it as a given.) “And there’s only one key, but I’ll make a copy tomorrow and pass it to you.”

How romantic. The first night of your new life together and he’s relegated you to the far end of the house to sleep alone. You’re sure it wouldn’t be past him to enforce a rule of minimum contact at this point.

“Yeah, sure.”

You’re trying not to make a big deal out of this, because what would it even amount to? It’s not like you can get out of this, or else what’ll that do? Just impact your sister. But still, it completely sucks that your husband isn’t someone you love, isn’t someone who even wants to give it a shot, isn’t someone who’s willing to make himself bearable to live with.

An exhausted sigh leaves Sae’s lips as he tosses the keys onto a tray placed carefully atop the kitchen island. “I don’t think I need to remind you, but I didn’t want this and I think neither do you,” he says, his eyebags more apparent now that some of his makeup has caked off. “So I’ll keep out of your way if you keep out of mine.”

Spoken as if he truly hates your guts.

The wariness from everything that happened earlier—the wedding, the entertaining, the scepticism, your unwilling husband. What’s supposed to be a typically happy occasion has drained the complete life out of you, though it deigns to strip your hope entirely. Some nauseatingly optimistic cell in your brain is telling you that you still have to try, that it takes longer for some people to warm up to you, that if you give up then this might really just be it for the rest of your life.

So you nod your head and force a smile, even when Sae doesn’t return it, even when you know he won’t. “Mhm, okay,” you say, obediently, even though Sae just looks on at you emotionlessly, the only sliver of human that you see in him being the slight furrow of his brows. When he turns to walk back to his room, you call a goodnight! to him. All it gets you is a grunt of acknowledgement before he slams the door once he’s in.

Trudging your bags behind you, you dump them on the floor of your bedroom. The walls are pearly white, and the dresser is huge, a top-to-bottom mirror rests on the wall next to the closet. There’s even a bathroom inside, too, though you’d bet it’s smaller than the one Sae’s room has. 

It’s all very nice. Expensive, like the suite of a five-star hotel, and decorated lavishly.

But that’s all this is.

Nice. On the surface. It’s nice only to the eyes. Yet it can’t shake the foreboding feeling inside you that nags at you, warning you that Sae is just going to get even worse as you go.

Right as you’re about to spiral into a descent, you get a text from Reo.

You smile at his offer. Maybe if this was a few years ago. Maybe if both of you had acted on it when you knew the feelings were there. It’s been too long since then, everything that could’ve been is not—but what is doesn’t seem to have any hope of working out. 

Sighing to yourself, you make a mental reminder in your head to keep trying tomorrow. After all, you’re probably the only hope this sham of a marriage has at making it.

taglist: @kimvmarvel @mxplesyrvp @yuzurins @futuristicxie @kiopanxp @k0z3me @y-sabell-a @sae1toshilover @xoxojisu @karmatiz @sagejin @minnieminnie00-got7 @hearts4heidi @shiinobu-x @n1uh @prepchuu @leeyzhuo @shidouryusm @kaiserkisser

[bagopucks]

A. Matthews - Mean Words Hurt People

✄————————————

Auston Matthews x Fem!reader

Requested✨

Word Count: 2.1k

Warning(s): none! Just light angst.

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“Hudson just take the pills.”

“No!”

“Hudson please! They’ll help.”

“No! Go away! I can’t do it, I hate you!”

It had been an awfully stressful week. Auston and I were both feeling the irritability. With the second round knock out, I was patient. I assumed he might need time alone or with his team, and it was time I was willing to grant. What I hadn’t expected was for him to dive headfirst into the fire. I worried that we never got time to discuss it or that he never got time to cope with it, but at the same time I wondered if Auston coping was spending time planning our wedding and being a father to Auston. I always wanted to ask, but I never wanted to overstep my boundaries.

Until it came to hell week. Hudson’s allergies had been horrible. I worked overtime almost every night, and Auston was left with most of the work. It was bumpy, sure, but even if it had been myself and Hudson, I knew it still would have been bumpy. Hudson was tired and cranky, and stuffy and itchy and miserable. Auston was miserable navigating everything, trying to keep the kid happy, trying to make him take his pills, trying to find ways to entertain him. I felt horrible coming home each night, some worse than others. Some more peaceful than expected.

Some days Auston would be out cold on the couch, his clothes a mess, his hair pulled up, exhaustion laced in his furrowed brow. Other days I could hear the screaming and fussing from Hudson well before I even got up the front porch steps.

Hudson’s allergies and attitude couldn’t have come at a worse time. Halloween was around the corner and I had so many plans as to how I wanted to share it with Auston and Hudson. The last thing I wanted was for my miserable and moody kid to put those on the back burner. Especially because it was a chance to go out and have some family fun. Even if we hadn’t been the most stable of families recently.

I reminded Auston to be patient, but it was never really him that seemed ready to give up. Sure he got overworked, sure he was as miserable as Hudson, and as lost, but not once had he turned to me and told me he couldn’t do it. Until the night I came home to quite the tense scene. Auston sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. Toys were everywhere, Hudson was nowhere. He looked a mess. He looked exhausted. And when he looked up at me and told me he needed a break, I couldn’t get mad. I understood. When Hudson had spells like these, I often found backup was the best way to handle it.

“Was it worse today?” I asked softly as I closed the door, assuming Hudson was asleep.

“I stopped asking myself that a while ago.”

“I’m really sorry, hun.” I sat down next to him on the couch, gentle as I rested my hand on his back.

“I don’t know what his problem is.” The tension in his voice was something foreign to me. Auston was usually so collected and relaxed.

“It’s just his allergies. He just doesn’t understand why he’s feeling so miserable, and why it won’t go away. Just give him time.”

“I really need a break.” A piece of me wanted to tell him parenthood is a full time job. But I couldn’t, because while I knew it was a full time job, I liked my vacation days. And the perfect babysitter came in the form of my mother.

“Maybe Hudson needs a few days with grandma.”

“You think?” I pulled back at the tension in his tone. “I’m sorry.” Auston was quick to apologize, running his hands through his hair and sitting back. When I finally got a good look at his face, I raised a brow. There was more than just exhaustion in his features.

“Did Hudson say something to you?”

“What?” I watched Auston’s deep brown eyes meet my own. “No.”

“Aus. Did something happen?” I quickly placed my hand on his thigh.

“No. Okay? It’s fine. I just- I’d like to go home… alone- to sleep in my bed. With my dog.”

“Okay… okay if that’s what you need. Auston, just- I’m here for you. Okay?”

Auston stood up, and I watched him walk toward the door. For reasons I didn’t understand, he was more than overworked. He didn’t seem interested in sharing, but I assumed a full night of rest would help. “Drive safe, okay?” I watched him nod as he put his shoes on, and I locked the door behind him after he left. I hoped to delve deeper into the issue when Hudson awoke in the morning.

“Hey sweetie.” I spoke from the stovetop, cooking a few eggs for Hudson to eat for breakfast. I watched the boy peek around the kitchen and dining area before he padded off into the living room. When he returned, he came to my side and hugged my leg. “Sleep well?”

“Okay.” His distant and somber tone made me sigh. Both of my boys were anything but happy. It hurt knowing I could do nothing to help either.

“We have to talk, okay?” I watched his big eyes shoot up to my own. I wondered if he already knew what was on my mind. “Go sit. I’ll bring your plate over.” And I did just that. Once I finished cooking the eggs, I put them on a small plate and grabbed a fork, carrying the items over to set them down on the table. I pulled my chair out across from Hudson. The lack of Auston at our table was oddly unsettling. We’d both grown used to his presence in the mornings.

“Auston‘s really stressed.” The mention of the man lost my son’s interest. His eyes didn’t lift from his plate. “You’re not making things easy, hun. And I understand your allergies are killing you, but that doesn’t give you any right to be difficult or mean.”

Hudson dropped his fork on his plate, looking down at his lap.

“Have you been mean?” I leaned forward slightly, listening in the silence. Listening until I heard a quiet sniff. “Hudson?”

“I didn’t mean it.” His broken tone made me raise a brow.

“Honey, what didn’t you mean?”

“Did I make him leave? I didn’t want him to leave. Is it my fault?” His questions made me shoot up from my chair to cross the table, kneeling on the floor by Hudson.

“Honey.” I spoke in a stern yet soothing tone, reaching upwards to cup his tear stained cheeks. “Hudson you could never scare Auston off. He loves you.” I cooed.

“I’m so sorry, momma… I didn’t mean it!” Somewhere in the midst of the chaos, mistakes had been made, and i finally understood the issue. An issue I never should have left Auston alone with. “I don’t really hate him… I didn’t mean it.”

“Hudson, why would you say that?”

“I didn’t mean it, momma.” His quiet cries turned into sobs.

“Shhh.. okay honey.” I rubbed my son’s head, my heart hurting for both Auston and Hudson. They both needed comfort I wish I could have provided sooner.

“I don’t hate him.” Hudson whispered in a broken tone.

“I bet Auston would like to know that.”

“Not if he’s mad at me.” I shook my head.

“He still loves you, honey.” I wiped his tears one last time. “You just need to apologize.”

From day one, Auston’s mind had been plagued with worries. What if he wasn’t good enough? Or what if he couldn’t be a good father? What if he wasn’t cut out for all the responsibilities, or he couldn’t be a good role model? He never actually prepared himself for the day the kid he’d worked so hard to earn the favor of, would say he hated him. Auston had been floored when Hudson screamed it across the house. It was worse than any pain he’d ever felt before. It was the last thing he’d wanted. And he didn’t know how to tell me. I couldn’t blame him. Because it was a situation I didn’t actually understand. When I turned up with Hudson on his doorstep, a piece of me didn’t expect him to be home, but sure enough, Auston had opened the door just minutes after knocking. Felix stood at his feet, clearly oblivious to the situation, panting excitedly at the sight of Hudson. His best friend.

“Hey Aus.” I flashed the man a tender smile. Auston breathed a sigh that made his shoulders droop.

“Hey.. is everything okay?” Auston opened the door wider, an invite inside. I hesitantly stepped into the home, resting a hand on Auston’s hip and pressing a quick kiss to his chest.

“I came to check on you.. Hudson did too.”

“I was uh.. Felix needs to go on a walk.”

“Let me handle it.” I slid past Auston to grab the dog’s leash, calling Felix and kneeling to get him hooked up. “I’ll be back soon.”

I had faith in my boys making up. Despite the fact that Auston wasn’t Hudson’s father yet, I still knew that they had the ability to talk about their emotions and communicate well. They had never fought before… but I had faith they could apologize and move on.

“Mom,” Hudson called for me softly.

“I’ll be back soon, honey. I promise you’ll be okay.” I pressed a kiss to my son’s head before patting his back, and gently pushing him inside. “Fifteen minutes max. That’s how long I’ll be gone.” I reassured both boys before stepping out the door. Auston hesitated before shutting it behind me.

Was I worried? Sure. But again, I knew they’d be fine.

Auston shuffled his feet nervously for a moment before glancing back down the hallway. “You thirsty, bud?” He asked Hudson, the two making eye contact for the first time since their fight.

“A little.” Neither knew how to begin the conversation, so instead, Hudson and Auston walked down the hall and fetched two glasses of water, before settling in the living room on the couch.

“Your mom wants us to talk.. doesn’t she?” Auston took initiative, holding the cold glass of water between his hands.

“Yeah.” Hudson nodded, eyes examining his own water like a science experiment.

“I’m sorry your allergies have been so bad.” Auston slid a bit closer. “I know that stuff sucks. And I wish I could have been a better help.”

“Mom said we’re gonna see a doctor next week.” He paused. “She said they’re gonna give me something that should work better than the pills.”

“Hudson I was only trying to help.” Auston could barely handle dancing around the subject, so he decided to face it head on.

“I know.” Hudson’s little voice quivered.

“There’s nicer ways to treat the people trying to help you. And I understand if you had frustrations. It’s okay to have those, but there’s better way to communicate frustration than insults. Mean words hurt people.”

“I’m sorry,” Hudson whispered, peeking up at Auston, guilt in his sad features. “I don’t hate you.” The words took a huge weight off the shoulders of both boys. Auston let out a shaky sigh, and Hudson felt far less guilty than before. “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay.. Hudson it’s okay.” Auston set his glass of water down, reaching for Hudson, who slowly got up and climbed into his lap. Auston rubbed Hudson’s back while the boy sat with him, a mutual understanding between them that there was still love shared. Their relationship remained strong despite what had happened.

“You’re not mad?” Hudson pulled his head from Auston’s shoulder to look at the man.

“Nobody’s perfect, Hudsy. You’ll learn that as you grow up.. and you’ll make other mistakes. Just like I will. And that’s okay. It’s important that people have patience with one another… I’m not mad. I love you so much. Just do me a favor and try to communicate a little better in the future when you’re upset, okay?”

“You’ll help me.. right?”

“Absolutely.”

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

[multimousefanatic]

The temptation to write a one shot set in the future where Adrien proposes with the Graham De Vanily rings and Marinette is like “ABSOLUTELY NOT!” Is so strong

But I feel like…. On one hand, it’s SO obvious, somebody has to have already done it, right?

On the other hand… The Graham De Vanily rings are wedding bands and technically you don’t wear those until the actual wedding right? You have an engagement ring while you’re engaged and then you put the wedding bands on during the ceremony?

But then I’m like… it’s all the more dramatic if she doesn’t know until the actual wedding ceremony when she sees the rings and they have to stop the wedding to have the argument like

Oh who am I kidding? Here’s the dialogue only rough draft:

“Adrien… Sweet heart…. Kitty… You know I want to marry you, I’ve wanted to marry you since we were 14, but I will absolutely not, under any circumstances, be wearing that ring.”

“But I want you to have it, M’Lady.”

“No, you’re the only one who gets to wear those rings. They’re yours.”

“And I am yours, so why shouldn’t you have one?”

“Because it’s too important! People lose or chip their wedding rings all the time, Adrien, and I don’t know if you’ve forgotten but you’re actually marrying a walking natural disaster.”

“You are not a disaster and there’s no one I would trust more in the world with one of these rings.”

“Why don’t you get it? If something happens to the ring, something could happen to you. And it would be all my fault. I’m sorry, Chaton, but I love you too much to take that risk.”

“You’ve managed to care for a particularly coveted pair of earrings just fine. Are you really telling me that a ring is too much responsibility for the great Ladybug?”

“I haven’t, actually. I lost the earrings in Shanghai when we were kids.”

“What?”

“And if I lose this ring, or damage it in any way, I will never forgive myself. This is your life you’re trying to gamble away, here.”

“It’s not a gamble. If you’re so worried about it, just don’t take it off.”

“Right and then what happens when my fingers swell up so bad that it’s cutting off my circulation and they have to cut the ring off my finger? I’ll tell you what’ll happen, they’ll have to cut my whole finger off!”

“That’s not a thing.”

“It is actually, specifically with wedding rings because it’s so common for people to not take them off for years at a time. Most people would cut the ring instead of the finger, but I’d rather lose a finger than lose you.”

“Listen, Bugaboo, I knew you’d be a bit… apprehensive about this, but it’s really important to me. These rings felt like such a heavy weight to carry when I learned what they were and you’re the one who’s been there to make sure I actually carry it instead of locking them in a drawer and pretending they don’t exist to keep myself from throwing them away or cataclysming them. You’ve always handled them, and me, with care. If it weren’t for you, I don’t think I’d be able to wear them. But I am, because you’ve helped me to realize they’re not all that heavy, they’re just another part of me, and I’m asking you to help me carry them now, the way you always have. I’ve always felt safer in your hands than my own.”

“Your unwavering faith in me has put your life at risk more times than I can count.”

“And yet I’m still right here, thanks to you.”

“…Okay. But if I have to take it off for any reason, I’m giving it to you or putting it in a safe if I can’t give it to you. And if I have even one scare, if I misplace it once, if I so much as scratch it, I’m giving it back to you and I’m never wearing it again.”

“You won’t, you love me too much. And now you’ll always have a piece of me with you.”

“…I’m sorry I ruined your proposal.”

“Oh you didn’t. This wasn’t your proposal.��

“What?”

“Trial run. Now you know the real thing’s coming, but you won’t know when or where. I’m going to have a lot of fun faking you out for this next while.”

“I should have never made you watch the Office.”

[gabessquishytum]

Alpha Dream is an alien prince from a race with a/b/o dynamics, and is part of a delegation negotiating a treaty with Earth. It’s decided that the treaty would be sealed with a marriage with Dream, and he requests that his human betrothed be a male omega if possible, please.

Except humans are still normal humans with no such dynamics, and none of the human delegation understands what that means (either omegaverse never developed as a fanfic trope in this universe, or somehow absolutely none of the humans present have ever been to that part of the internet).

Both the aliens and the humans present are falling for the species-centric perspective of “they look enough like us that they surely must fuck like us”, so thanks to only responding with a couple of euphemistic explanations that don’t translate well to any of the human languages being used (unbeknownst to the aliens), the humans end up believing that a male omega is just “a male who bottoms”.

Weird to just blatantly ask for that, but it’s probably a cultural thing, and thankfully they do happen to have a betrothal candidate who fits that description.

Hob Gadling doesn’t get a ton of time to really get to know his alien fiancé, but what they do get is enough that both of them are pleased enough with the match, and they’re definitely both looking forward to consummating the marriage on their wedding night.

Cut to the wedding night in question, when the clothes finally come off.

If male omegas of Dream’s species are meant to have any kind of vagina, then the night probably stops there in favor of serious conversations and clearing up of misunderstandings. However, I think it’d be funnier to keep the misunderstandings going, so let’s suppose that the alien male omegas have all their business up the ass 😁

Hob and Dream get right down to business exploring each other’s bodies, and are having a grand time doing so. But when Dream gets to Hob’s hole, he doesn’t find any trace of slick there. Unexpected, but it’s not unheard of for some omegas to need a little extra stimulation to get wet, even if they appear to be enjoying themselves. With the help of a little lube for just such a situation, Dream is quite happy to spend the extra time and effort getting his new mate wet and loose.

(Hob wasn’t expecting his new husband to be so committed to fingering and eating him out, particularly since he had specifically asked for a husband who likes to be fucked, but Dream is so good at it you won’t hear him complaining (though he would like to get that alien dick inside him at least once tonight, if he can somehow manage to pull his alien husband’s face away from his ass at some point—Dream’s already made him come from this once, but doesn’t seem ready to move on from there))

Dream is starting to grow concerned. He wants so badly to please his new mate, but despite his clear enjoyment of Dream’s attentions Hob still doesn’t produce any slick. Even when he comes, the only real response comes from his cock and nothing from his ass. Dream dearly wants to properly mate his lovely and responsive alien omega, but if he tries fucking that pretty little hole with it as naturally dry as it is, it might be uncomfortable or even painful for Hob, which is simply unacceptable! Maybe human omegas require more orgasms first…?

At some point, one of them will finally call for a timeout to ask what the deal is, and they finally have a chance to talk and realize the misapprehensions they were both under about how biologically similar their species’ are. Thankfully this doesn’t really change how much they both want to make the marriage work for themselves as much as for the treaty, though Dream does have new worries about potentially hurting Hob by knotting an ass that wasn’t made for it. Hob though is stubborn, horny, besotted, and willing to try anything at least once, so they’ll probably work that out somehow without many issues.

-🪽anon

YESSS alien omegaverse!!! I honestly really like the idea of Hob being an avid omegaverse-reader before his marriage to Dream, so he actually starts to have suspicions about Dream having a secondary sex, but he doesn't want to say anything in case he's wrong... when Dream finally gets a chance to explain his biology, Hob is like "Hang on a second!" and digs out his favourite omegaverse romance novel to show him. Dream is relieved to discover that Hob DOES know what he's talking about... its even a little gratifying to know that his husband gets off on the whole concept of Dream’s basic biology.

So the only problem is that Hob isn't designed to take a knot - which means he'll have to practice. That means waiting and training his hole and his inside muscles to stretch and relax gradually. He doesn't really want to wait. But Dream is very insistent. He's going to keep on rimming Hob’s lovely little hole just as much as he was before, but he'll now also be inserting toys which can swell and train him to take a knot someday.

Hob shyly asks if Dream is disappointed that he isn't a proper omega like he wanted. But Dream firmly explains that he's fallen for Hob, not his genitals, and that there's no one else he'd rather be married to. Sex with Hob is already amazing (now Dream understands that he is pleasing his husband and getting him sufficiently aroused, phew) and he's sure it will only get better as their marriage goes onwards. Especially because Hob is proving himself a natural when it comes to training his hole. He's really, really looking forward to getting fucked, and it even shows in his body - he may not be an omega, but he's so fucking ready to be knotted by his alpha. One of these days Dream is gonna wake up to a very enthusiastic husband riding his knot, and he'll be very glad that he married a resilient, stubborn, gorgeous human.

[samaraannhan20]

Austin Butler Imagine: College AU! Yes to the Dress

Warnings: College! reader, Agegap! (About 10 years)

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“What time are your friends arriving tomorrow?” Austin asks me as we lay down in bed for the night. I curl myself up into his side before I respond. 

“Well Kyra is driving in and will get here around 6 pm. I have a girls day with the whole group on Saturday. Tara and Alice are flying in and we need to go pick them up at noon. Oh and my mom and sister will be here by 6 as well.”

“What are you doing for your girls day on Saturday?” he asks as he reaches over and turns off our lamp which in turns places us in the dark, with only the glow of the background movie still giving us light. 

“We’re going to brunch, and then going dress shopping. I’m going to ask everyone to be my bridesmaid after they all get here tomorrow night, so we’ll also look for bridesmaid dresses while we’re dress shopping probably,” I say as I turn the tv off. 

“Are you excited?” he asks me as we turn and face each other in the bed. 

“I am. I am so excited to have a wedding and end the day married to you. Although, as much as I love weddings I could probably just go to the courthouse and marry you right now.”

“I would do the same. But there is no reason to rush it. It won’t be a huge wedding anyway. Family and friends,” he says with a small smile. 

“Yes. Family and friends. I hope Baz and Catherine can come. I miss getting to see them,” I say as I close my eyes. “And Miss Priscilla. I’m already trying to figure out a way to wear the bracelet she gave me at the premiere on our wedding day.”

“No one will even notice if it doesn’t match. If you want to wear it and it's important to you, wear it,” he says, placing a kiss on my forehead. “Now turn around so we can cuddle and go to sleep. We can keep wedding planning tomorrow,” he says, and moves away so I have room to turn over. 

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“Hey Aus?”

“Yeah darlin?” he asks as he rounds the corner to the living room where I am seated. 

“Mom said she should be here in like an hour and a half. Is that guest room ready?”

“You mean the one on the exact opposite side of the house than our room? Also known as the room we only use when your family is in town?” he says with a small laugh, pressing a kiss to my forehead as he comes up behind me. “Yeah, it’s ready.”

“And what about Ella’s room? Right next to it?” 

“Yep. Both rooms that are the farthest away from us are ready, in order to stop family members from being scarred by the fact that we have sex,” he says with a laugh and then starts massaging my shoulders. “Baby you need to loosen up. It’s not the wedding weekend yet. We’re ten months away from that.”

“Yeah I know, but I’m asking the girls to be my bridesmaids this weekend, and asking Kyra to be my maid of honor, and not all of the parts of the gifts are here yet and I need them to be here before Kyra, Tara, and Alice get here because I don’t want them to see it before I give it to them later tonight.”

“You could always give it to them tomorrow night,” he says as he continues massaging my shoulders. 

“No, because I want to look at a few bridesmaid dresses while we’re dress shopping tomorrow,” I tell him, bending my head back to look at him. 

“Oh right,” he says, and lets go of my shoulders, choosing instead to walk around the couch and sit down, grabbing my arm and pulling me into him. “Speaking of dress shopping, there’s a credit card on the counter for you.”

“What? Why?” I ask him, pulling a little away so I can look into his eyes. 

“Because you’re still paying student loans, you shouldn’t be worrying about how you’re going to pay for a wedding dress. It's as much for me as it is for you, so I want to pay for it. And for the bridesmaid dresses so that no one has to worry about how they’re going to pay for it.” 

“Austin, no. If the tabloids learn about that they’ll call me a gold digger. Again,” I say, enunciating the ‘again’ because I have been accused of that at least three times in the past.

“So what if they do? You and I both know that is not why you’re with me. Along with our entire group of family and friends. I want to take care of it, please let me,” he says, whispering on the last part. I launch myself into his lap, and pepper kisses all over his face and neck.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“Hey everyone! Dinner is ready!” I holler from the kitchen where I stand with Austin. He drops a kiss on my forehead as he walks out of the room, heading to the living room to avoid the chaos that is about to ensue. I wait silently as my closest friends and mom and sister walk into the kitchen. They all start to reach for plates, but I stop them. 

“Actually, there is one thing I would like to do before eating. If you would follow me,” I say with a smirk and then walk into the dining room. I walk to stand next to Austin as they all walk in the room, and notice the different boxes with each of their names on it. “Please find your name and then sit down at that spot. Do not open your box until I say to open it,” I tell them, and they all follow and sit down in their seats. When they are all sitting and settled down I speak up again. 

“You all already know what this is,” I start with a small laugh, and they all laugh and cheer in agreement. “However, there is an order I would like to do this in. Starting with Kyra, you can go ahead and open yours,” I say, and she immediately opens her box. She tears up when she realizes what it is. 

“You want me to be your maid of honor?” she says with tears in her eyes, looking at me. I nod, also tearing up. She stands up and walks over to me, giving me a hug. When she pulls away she looks from me to Ella and then back again. “What about Ella? She’s your sister,” she says, concern washing over her face. 

“We talked. We both agreed it was more of a job for someone who was old enough to drink legally when I turn into bridezilla,” I say with a laugh, wiping my eyes. Everyone in the room laughs, and I give Kyra one last hug before shooing her back to her seat. “Okay, everyone else you can open your boxes now,” I say to them, and they all rip open their boxes. “Mom there is also one for you, but just a gift. Not asking you to be a bridesmaid,” I say with a laugh, and watch as she rips into her box as well. 

As they get into their boxes they jump up and down and start crying, before swarming me into a group hug. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Austin standing in the corner taking a picture of us, and I start to cry even more. 

“Okay wait though, do you guys wanna see what I got Ashley’s daughter to ask her to be my flower girl?” I say after a few minutes when we all pull away and are wiping our eyes. They all cheer yes, so I go over to the hall closet and pull out the box that I got her. I bring it over to the table and open the box, causing a loud chorus of ‘aww’.

“That is the cutest thing I have ever seen,” Tara says, and we all just laugh. As I close the box up and go put it back in the closet I shout over my shoulder “there’s pizza in the kitchen!” I laugh as I hear everyone stampede into the kitchen. While they’re all distracted I walk to Austin and wrap my arms around him. 

“I love you,” he says as I lay my head on his chest. 

“I love you. And I can’t wait to be Mrs. Austin Butler,” I say, pulling my head back to look up at him. He leans down and kisses me, and as he does we hear another chorus of awws and pull away with a laugh, turning to look at the doorway to the kitchen where all of the bridesmaids stand. I feel him press a kiss to the top of my head as he pulls out of my arms, and takes my hand to lead me into the kitchen for food. 

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“You know, you never told me how you and Austin met,” Alice says in the middle of brunch on Saturday. 

“Really?” I say around the mouthful of food I just shoved in my mouth. Kyra laughs with my little sister as little bits of food fly out of my mouth. 

“Graceful,” my mother mutters with a small smile coming across her face. 

“Yes, really. You just called one day and told me that I would never believe who you were dating before blurting out that you were dating Austin. And then you said you had to go call some other important family members because an article would probably drop before you had the chance to tell them if you didn’t tell them right then. And we never discussed it again,” Alice says, looking at me expectantly. 

“I know the story,” Kyra and Tara say at the same time, before looking at each other and laughing. 

“So do we,” my sister says, pointing at herself and my mother. 

“Oh. Well I guess you only got to know the full story if I lived with you,” I say, looking at Tara with a laugh. “Well mom, Ella, and Kira also knew because they have known everything since the start. Kira knows more than anyone else, because I had many anxious discussions with her leading up to us officially getting together three years ago,” I say, taking one last bite of food and then pushing my plate away, before diving into the story. 

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

Flashback to May 2021

“Okay. You guys have two hours of studio time to get this take today,” the executive says to the choir as we all stand in the recording studio. Our director nods and then gets our attention to start the singing. 

It takes probably an hour and a half before we have a couple of solid takes, and then the executive walks back in. 

“I think we got it guys! Now, can the soloist stick around? Everyone else can head home, and I’ll let you know if we need to find another day to try again, but I’m pretty sure we got a good take today” he says, and my choir director looks at me, before turning to everyone else and telling them it was time to go home. I shuffle forward as everyone else leaves the room, and then shoot a shy smile towards the executive. “If you will follow me I have a couple of people who want to meet you,” the executive says, and I nod with a smile, and clasp my hands together to hide the shaking. I follow him down a different hallway where no one is around, and then enter a room. I look up from my feet when I hear people stand up and see people who I never expected standing in front of me. 

“Hi, Y/N?” Baz says as he steps up to me and holds out his hand to shake. I reach out and shake his hand, hoping that my shaking isn’t too obvious, and mutter a small hello. “I’m Baz,” he says, and I shoot him a small smile. “Of course, you probably already knew that,” he says with a laugh, and I laugh along with him. “And this is Austin,” he says, motioning towards the person standing next to him. I mutter hello to him, blushing as he takes my hands in his and clasps them together. 

“You sounded amazing,” he tells me, and I blush even more. 

“Oh I’m not even the best singer in the choir. This just happened to be the solo I was assigned for the semester. I don’t even think I should have been the one it was given to,” I say, looking away. 

“Oh nonsense,” Priscilla Presley says as she steps forward, immediately pulling me into a hug. “You were amazing. I am so glad that you were chosen for it,” she says, and then presses a kiss on my cheek. 

“I had a question I wanted to ask you,” Baz says, and then motions towards a chair and asks me to take a seat. I sit down and Priscilla sits next to me, with Austin and Baz sitting across from me. “There is one song that we were wanting to put on the soundtrack that we hadn’t quite found the right voice for,” Baz starts, and I get a questioning look across my face. “After listening to you sing the solo with your choir we wanted to ask you if you could do it,” he says with a small smile. “Of course, you can say no. I know that not everyone would be comfortable with something like that, especially if they didn’t want to be thrust into the fame spotlight,” he says, and I shrink down in my chair. 

“I’m really sorry,” I start. “I am so thankful for the opportunity, but I have to say no. I really didn’t even want the small solo on the song we just recorded, but since I’m a music major my director told me I couldn’t say no. I don’t want to be famous, I just want to teach music to little kids,” I say, and everyone around smiles. 

“That is completely okay,” Priscilla says, and takes my hands in hers. “I think you should do what you want to do, and if this isn't it that is okay. The world needs good teachers. And I can tell that you are going to be one,” she says, and I flush. Austin mutters something in agreement, and I flush even more. 

“I do know someone that could do it,” I say, and when Baz asks me who it is, I give them the name of someone else in my choir whose voice is like mine. They tell me thank you, and that they will get in contact with her. We all talk for a little bit longer and then Baz stands up as his phone rings. 

“I need to get this, but it was so nice to meet you, Y/N,” he says and holds out his hand for me to take. I take it, thinking that this would just be a hand shake, but he pulls me up from my seat and into a hug. I hear small chuckles come from the others in the room and laugh myself as I hug Baz. “You will make an amazing teacher,” he says as he pulls back, and then answers the phone waving goodbye as he steps out of the room. The executive that had been sitting in the room with us the entire time stands up saying he will lead me out, and I nod, and turn to Priscilla and Austin. 

“Thank you for asking me. It means a lot,” I say, and Priscilla stands up and pulls me into a hug. 

“While I wish you had said yes, I fully understand why you did not. I hope you succeed in everything that you want to. And I hope we see you at the premiere,” she says, and I nod.

“If I get an invite I will be there,” I say as I pull away, and then turn and hold out my hand for Austin. “It was nice to meet you,” I say quietly, and he takes my hand in his.

“It was nice to meet you. I can walk you out,” he says, turning to the executive looking for a nod of approval, and then dropping my hand and walking towards the door. I follow behind him, not sure what to say or what exactly is happening. We walk down the hallway making a bit of small talk as we walk down the hall. When we get to the door that leads out to the parking lot. 

“Well this is my stop,”  I say with a small laugh, and he laughs as well. 

“I guess it is. Can I get your number?” he asks, and I freeze. “I mean, just to make sure you do get an invite to the premiere,” he says quickly, trying to calm me down in some way. 

“Oh yeah, that makes sense,” I say as he pulls out his phone and hands it to me after opening the contact app and starting a new number. I place my number in his phone and then hand it back.

“It was nice to meet you,” I say and then wave goodbye before pushing the door open. I walk out into the parking lot to my car, and get in and start it. I pull my phone out to start music and notice I have a text from an unknown number. 

Unknown number

I hope you gave me your real number because I would love to get to know you more.

Austin 

I drop my phone in the seat next to me, and then quickly grab it, shooting a text back. 

I never give out fake numbers, there’s no telling who’s phone number they are. I would also love to get to know you more.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“And the rest is history,” I say as I finish my story, smiling absently as I reminisce on how Austin and I met.

“I totally forgot that your choir sang for the Elvis movie,” Alice says. 

“Yeah. I think if I wasn’t with Austin because of it I probably would have forgotten too. Other than meeting him and Miss Pricilla it was almost just a normal recording experience, and we do that every year,” I say with a shrug.  

“You guys literally had a real-life meet-cute,” Ella says, and we all laugh. 

“You’re not wrong. Some days I wake up having a hard time believing that this is my real life,” I quietly say. “I mean, I love Austin with everything that I am, sometimes it’s hard with his fame though.”

“Yeah I don’t think I could ever get used to that,” Alice says, Tara and Ella nod in agreement. 

“I wouldn’t change it for the world though. This is how it was meant to be. And I’m so excited to spend the rest of my life with him,” I tell them, a blush coming across my face.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“Going to the chapel and I’m gonna get married,” the three of us sing off key as we walk to the bridal shop, my arms interlinked with Kyra and Tara’s arms. We all laugh as we hear the laughs of the rest of our group behind us. 

I remove my arms from Kyra and Tara and open the door of the shop, holding it open for everyone. My mom is the last person to walk in, and she holds her hand out for me to take as we enter the shop. 

“Hello, welcome!” the owner exclaims as she walks up to our group. “Do you guys have an appointment?” 

“Yes,” I say. “It’s under Y/N,” I tell her, and she unlocks the ipad she had been holding and looks at her calendar.

“Oh, yes! It’s so good to see you! I’m Sarah and I’ll be helping you today! Do you know what you were wanting to start with today?” she asks, and I look at the girls. They all shrug in response, so I turn back to Sarah.

“The main goal for today is to hopefully find my wedding dress, but I was also wanting to look at a few bridesmaid dresses, just to get an idea,” I say to her, and she nods in understanding. 

“Okay! Do you want to start with the bridesmaid dresses?” 

“Yes please!” I say, and she guides us over to a section of the store that has bridesmaid dresses. 

“Do you know what your colors for the wedding are?” she asks as the girls split up to thumb through dresses. 

“Darker pastel colors, kind of dusty colors. Leaning towards dusty purple and colors like that. The wedding is October 28th, and I thought that dusty colors went best with that.”

“Is the wedding indoors or outdoors?” she asks. “So I know if we should be looking for things with sleeves or the option to add sleeves.”

“Indoors. I didn’t want to have to worry about weather conditions or the paparazzi’s ability to hide in a bush and take pictures.”

“Paparazzi?” she questions, and I can see in her eyes that she is trying to figure out if she knows who I am, or if she has seen me somewhere before. 

“Um, yeah. My fiance is Austin Butler,” I say quietly, and I see the recognition in her eyes the moment she connects the dots. 

“Oh! Well we run a shop that focuses on the privacy of our customers, so you won’t have to worry about anyone finding out. We were actually the shop that Ashley Tisdale found her wedding dress in,” she tells me and I quietly laugh.

“Yeah, she recommended it to me. She would have been here today, but she had some meetings happening,” I tell her. She nods and then turns to a section of the shop. 

“Okay, well, we are so glad that you chose our shop. These dresses over here come in whatever color you want, and you should be able to get sleeves added onto most of them if you want. Were you wanting your bridesmaids to all wear one color?”

“No. They can all wear whatever color they want as long as they all look good together. I think I just want them to try on one each while we’re here, just to start getting some ideas,” I explain and she nods. 

“While they look at these, why don’t you and your mother go and start choosing some dresses you might want to try on today,” she says, and motions to where the wedding gowns are. I nod and take my mom’s hand and walk over to that side of the store. My mom and I shop side by side, pulling things that I would like to try on for about twenty minutes.

After that time, Sarah comes over to us. 

“Your bridesmaids are ready to show you what they found, and then we can start trying on the dresses you chose. I also pulled some that I thought you might like based on what you had told me when you scheduled your appointment and what you had been pulling today,” she tells us, as she points us in the direction of where the girls are trying on dresses. 

“We all originally had different ones,” Kyra calls out from the dressing room. 

“But then we saw this one and thought it looked better than all the others,” Alice shouts from her dressing room. “Let's go girls!” she continues, and they all three step out of their dressing rooms in the same dress. My eyes well up as I take them in. 

“Guys. This is perfect. How did you find it?” I ask them as I wipe tears off my face. 

“Kyra found it,” Tara says, and I turn to Kyra. 

“Yeah. We’ve been discussing your wedding for years, and when I saw this I knew it was what you would want. And it looks good on all of us,” she says, and I run to her and pull her into a hug. 

“Already going above and beyond in your maid of honor duties,” I whisper, and she laughs. 

“What can I say? I’m good at my job,” she says, and I laugh before pulling away. 

“Well,” I start, turning to Sarah. “We found our bridesmaid dresses.” 

“Amazing. I will get Rosie,” she says, and then motions to another worker standing a few feet away. “To write down the style and everyone’s sizes while you and I head into that dressing room and get into your first gown,” she says, and then turns towards everyone else. “I will make sure you are all back out here and comfortable before I bring her out in her first dress.” They all smile and nod, before the four girls head back into their own dressing rooms. My mom sits down on the big couch as I head into my huge dressing room with Sarah. 

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“How do you feel?” she asks as we slip the eighth dress onto my body. 

“Honestly, starting to feel a little discouraged. I really wanted to find my dress today and be able to go home and tell Austin that I found it,” I tell her as she clamps the back up. 

“Well, don’t get too discouraged because this one looks amazing,” she says, and then taps my shoulder, which I have discovered throughout the last hour  means to turn around and look in the mirror that is taking up the entirety of the wall behind me. 

“Oh…” I gasp as I turn around. Tears well up in my eyes as I look at myself in the mirror. “Sarah, did I grab this?” I ask her as I stare at myself in the gown that was meant to be mine. 

“No, I think your mother did, or maybe one of your bridesmaids,” she tells me, resting a hand on my shoulder and handing me a tissue with the other one. 

“I think… I think this might be the one,” I tell her as I continue to stare at myself, taking the tissue from her hand in order to wipe the tears off my face and running my other hand across the fabric. 

“Hurry up!” we hear come from the waiting area, and I chuckle, wiping a spare tear that is falling down my face.

“Are you ready to go show them?” Sarah asks me, and I nod, allowing her to walk out of the room before me. “Ladies, I think this might be the one,” she says as she walks out before me, and I hear them all gasp as I turn the corner and walk into the room, looking at my feet as I walk. 

“Oh, Y/N,” I hear my mother mutter as I stop in front of the mirror that surrounds almost the entire area. I look up from my feet and out at my family and friends, and tear up when I see tears in their eyes as well. 

“Y/N, please tell me that’s the one,” Kyra says, and I smile. “Please say that’s the one, because you look amazing in it. And you look so so happy.”

“It’s the one,” I say, with another tear falling down my face. “This is the one. Mom,” I say, looking at her, “did you pull this one from the rack?”

“I did. You brushed past it, but I saw it and knew you should at least try it on. It looks so much better than I could have ever imagined. You look radiant in it,” she says, trying to hold her sobs in as she takes me in. 

“Thank you Mama,” I respond, tears streaming down my face, as well as all my friends' faces and my sister's face. Everyone jumps up and gives me a hug, resulting in a huge group hug. “I love all of you. I can’t wait to be able to celebrate this big day with you,” I say and then squeeze my arms a little tighter around everyone. “Okay, you’re all suffocating me now. And we’re going to mess up the dress,” I say after another minute or two, with a slight laugh. They all laugh and pull away and I turn and look at myself again. 

“Were you wanting to try a veil on with it?” Sarah asks as I stare at myself in the mirror. 

“Oh! I hadn’t even thought about that. Yes I would love to,” I respond, and everyone chuckles as she heads off to grab one that will look good with it. She comes back with a few, and I try a few on before deciding on one. I stare at myself in the mirror a little longer, and notice my friends taking pictures of me in the background. 

“Okay. I think it’s time to get out of this dress until the next time,” I say, turning to Sarah. She nods and we go back into the dressing room.

“Okay, before we get you out of this dress I need to take some measurements so we can make sure to get it altered correctly,” she says, and I nod in understanding. For the next fifteen minutes she takes some measurements and then pulls back after the last one. “Okay, now we can get you out of it,” she says, and I laugh. She helps me out by unclamping the dress and helping slip it down over my hips. I step out of it and over to my clothes, slipping the dress I had worn back on quickly. 

“Is there a certain place for me to pay for everything?” I ask, and she laughs. 

“Actually, your fiance called about an hour ago and gave us his information to have us charge your dress, anything else you may want, and the bridesmaid dresses to his credit card. He asked me to tell you he found the conveniently forgotten credit card you had left behind.”

“Dang it. I was hoping he wouldn’t find that until after I got back,” I say with a small laugh. She also laughs in response, and then we are back in front of my friends and family. 

“Do you want to take an ‘I said Yes to the Dress’ picture?” Sarah asks as we all gather our things. Everyone cheers yes, and she ushers us together before grabbing the sign from somewhere nearby. I hand her my phone, and she takes multiple pictures of us before handing it back. “Okay, Y/N, I will see you back here in about a month to try on the dress after alterations.”

“Awesome! Thank you so much for all of your help Sarah,” I tell her, and then pull her in for a hug. 

“You’re welcome! I’m so glad you were able to find your dress today,” she says as I pull away from the hug. We all say our goodbyes and head out the door. We laugh and talk as we make our way down the sidewalk to my car. 

“I’m so excited!” Alice says, and I laugh. 

“Believe me, no one is more excited than I am.” 

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“Honey I’m home,” I call out as I walk in the door. Everyone had taken my car and gone out to see a movie in order to give me some time alone with Austin after finding the dress.

“I’m in here,” he calls from the office, and I toe my shoes off by the door before walking over to it. 

“Hey sweet boy,” I say as I walk in the door and see him looking over a script at his desk. 

“Hi darlin’,” he says, pushing back from the desk and opening up his arms for me to walk into. I sit down on his lap and wrap my arms around his neck, giving him a small kiss. “Where is everyone?”

“They wanted to give us some time alone so they went out to see a movie. They’ll be back for dinner later. I think their movie started like five minutes ago,” I tell him, laying my head on his chest. “You’re sneaky, you know that?” 

“Hey you’re sneaky too, trying to hide that credit card so I wouldn’t find it,” he responds, pressing a kiss to my forehead. 

“Yeah I guess so. And I mean, how would anyone even know that you paid for it, not me?” I say, and he smiles.

“Exactly my point. Now, how was dress shopping?” he asks. A huge smile breaks out on my face and I lift up and kiss him again. “That good huh?” he says as I pull away again, and I laugh.

“Not only did we find bridesmaid dresses, but I also found my wedding dress!” I exclaim, and he squeezes my sides where his arms are wrapped around me. 

“That’s amazing darlin’,” he says, and then pulls me in for a kiss. When he pulls away he asks, “I know I don’t get to see the winning wedding dress, but can I see some of the other ones you tried on and the bridesmaid dresses?” I laugh and nod, pulling out my phone and plugging it into his computer so he can see the pictures I had been sent. No one had sent me pictures of the winning dress, because they knew Austin could get onto my phone at any minute and they didn’t want him to find the picture. 

“Okay, so these are the bridesmaid dresses,” I say as I pull up a picture of all of them in their dresses. 

“Those look great!” 

“That’s what I said! And they perfectly fit the theme I was going for,” I tell him, placing a kiss on his cheek before turning back to the computer. “Okay, so this is the first dress I tried on. Everyone cried simply because it was my first time in a wedding dress, but we all agreed it wasn’t the one,” I tell him, and he laughs. “This one we thought looked good, but there wasn’t an immediate connection. If I hadn’t found another one I would have tried that one on again, but probably would have left empty handed. This next one I hated but I tried it on to appease my mother,” I tell him, and he laughs. We sit like that going through all the dresses until I get to the last one. “This is the one where I was starting to lose hope, because I felt like I wasn’t going to find one today. If you look at my eyes you can see how tired I am and how much I was hoping we could just call it quits soon. But then, they convinced me to try on one more dress, and sure enough the next dress was the one that was it.”

“Do you have any pictures anywhere of that one?” he asks with a sly smile on his face. 

“They do. I don’t. They wouldn’t send me any because they knew you would know the password to my phone and would try to find it. I think I’ll have someone post it early on the wedding day as a throwback of sorts, to show when I got the dress,” I tell him, and he nods. 

“And that will work because neither of us will be on our phones that day. We'll be so busy,” he says, and I laugh. 

“Yep. With a 2 o’clock wedding we’ll be busy all morning. And then all evening. Honestly I probably won’t be on my phone or checking social media until we’re on the plane on Sunday morning. And even then I might not. I will have to be texting my parents though when we leave here and arrive in Paris.” 

“Speaking of, I finalized those flights earlier. And booked the hotel rooms.”

“Yay! I go back in a month for a fitting to make sure the dress fits correctly, and if it does I can bring it home that day. Except I might take it over to Ashley’s because I love you, but you are a snoop. And I don’t want you to see it before the day of,” I say with a small smile, and he laughs. 

“You know me too well. Oh! Ashley called earlier and asked what night you were wanting to have dinner this week?”

“Oh right! Gotta ask Jupiter to be my flower girl,” I say, laying my head on his shoulder. “Whatever day works best for you honey. I’m taking Mom and Ella to the airport really early in the morning, and when I leave to take them Kyra, Tara, and Alice are going home. So even tomorrow night would work, but only if I get a nap. If I don’t get a nap I will be going to bed at like eight.” 

“I know. I know how you function sweets,” he says. 

“Speaking of, can we go lay on the couch for a bit? I want to change first, but then I want to cuddle with you before my family comes back. I’m exhausted,” I say, sitting up and looking at him. 

“Of course,” he says, and then pats my leg to get me to stand up, before heading to the couch as I head to our room to change. 

“One last thing,” I say when I get into the living room after changing. “Was that script you were reading any good?” 

“Maybe. I need to finish it in the morning while you nap, but it seemed promising.”

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“Jupiter,” I call out as I sit down in the living room at Ashley’s house. I laugh as I hear her little feet come running from the room she was in. 

“Aunty Y/N!” she exclaims as she jumps into my lap. 

“I have a present for you Jup,” I say as I give her a hug, smiling over her head at Ashley, Christopher, and then next to me at Austin. She wiggles out of my arms and slides down to the floor to stand in front of me. 

“Give it,” she states in her little toddler voice, and I laugh. 

“Jupiter! Ask nicely!” Ashley exclaims with a small laugh. I wave her off and grab the box from the table behind where Jupiter is standing. 

“Jupiter Iris, will you be my flower girl in Uncle Austin and I’s wedding?” I ask her as I open the box for her. She immediately takes the sunglasses out of the box and puts them on her face. 

“Can I wear these sunglasses?” she asks and I laugh. 

“Yes Jupes, you can. But you have to take a picture with me tonight before you run off again.” 

“Yes Aunty Y/N,” she says with a small nod. I laugh and gather her into my arms holding the box as best I can as Ashley grabs her phone and takes a picture of the two of us. I place a big wet kiss on her cheek as everyone laughs, including her. “Gross Auntie,” she says as she giggles and tries to wiggle out of my arms. I loosen and let her go, and she bolts out of the room. 

“Well,” I say as I slide over on the couch into Austin’s arms. “I guess we have a flower girl.”

[thefallennightmare]

Arranged-three

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: language, smut, angst, fluff, mentions of death.

Summary: Reader would do anything to make her parents happy and that included agreeing to an arranged marriage. She never expected it to be to one of New York's most feared Mob Boss: Bucky Barnes. He is anything but loving towards Reader however when her parents are mysteriously killed, Bucky makes it his mission to find out who were at fault. And in the process, ends up coming close to losing Reader.

Authors Note: This one seems kind of boring, but the excitement is coming soon! Tags for this will be open, just shoot me a message or comment if you're interested!

Tags: @alexxavicry @mdpplgtz03 @broadwaybabe18

Arranged Masterlist

I rushed around the room, trying to get all of my things together before meeting Bucky for breakfast. Even with our disagreement last night, I still wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt and try to make this work. It was the least I could do for my parents, I didn’t want to disappoint them. 

At the thought of Bucky, my feet stopped momentarily wondering if we were even still on for breakfast. I hadn’t heard from him since he had to leave last night and didn’t even know if he was back. My mind then wandered to what was so urgent that Bucky had to run out the way he did last night. He was into some questionable things, that was certain. But I couldn’t help but wonder if I actually wanted to know all the details. 

With a sigh, I made my way out of my room and as I walked down the stairs my eyes landed on my soon to be husband who has his own eyes on his phone. He was dressed in a suit,  minus the tie, but seeing him made my heart flutter. Even with a couple of his men behind him, Bucky stood out. 

At the sound of my heels clicking on the hard floor, Bucky looked away from his phone, swallowing deeply, before giving me a smile.

Morning,” I matched his smile. 

“Good morning. Ready for breakfast?” He asked. 

I nodded before pointing to the men behind him. “I’m assuming they'll be joining us?” 

Bucky hesitated before answering. “They’ll be watching from afar, don’t worry.” 

Giving the men a quick once over, I raised a brow while looking back at Bucky. “Where’s Steve?” 

Bucky quickly licked his lips and stuffed his hands deep into his pockets, his shoulders went rigged. “He’s busy. Running an errand for me.” 

Not wanting to press him even more, knowing that Bucky was hiding something, so I merely nodded towards the front door. 

“Let’s go. Im fucking starving,” I’m exasperated. 

Bucky chuckled. “You’ve got a dirty mouth, doll.” 

My cheeks flushed with heat and my core twitched with not only his nickname for me but the way he said it. 

I coughed, trying to mask my arousal, and adjusted the strap of my purse. “Let’s go.” 

With his metal hand ghosting over my lower back, I allowed him to lead me towards his car, an army of his men following close behind. 

“So,” Bucky took a quick sip of his drink before continuing, “Have you given any thoughts to the wedding?” 

We were sitting in a secluded room of the restaurant, with two of his men guarding the entryway to the room, and we were finishing up our breakfast not saying a word until now. 

“Uh, not really. To be honest, I would be fine with a courthouse wedding; just sign the paperwork and call it a day,” I admitted. 

Bucky leaned back into his chair. “Why? If money is an issue, you don’t have to worry about that. You can have the dream wedding you want.” 

I shook my head. “No it’s not that.” 

My hands shook with nerves, unsure of the words to use in order not to have Bucky take offense. 

“Then what is it?” 

“I mean, this whole situation isn’t exactly dream wedding worthy,” I gnawed on my bottom lip. 

There was an instant flash of disappointment in his eyes but it was gone just as quick as it appeared. “Shouldn’t that be the reason why you get the dream wedding you want?” 

I shook my head. “The courthouse is fine.” 

Bucky sighed, knowing he was defeated, but eventually agreed. “Whatever you want, doll.”

My heart fluttered and I found myself slowly loving the pet name. 

“Do you have any other plans today?” Bucky questioned. 

I shrugged. “I’d probably head back into my room and read.” 

“You know you can go to other parts of the house; what’s mine is yours now,” Bucky offered. 

“I just don’t want to overstep.” 

He placed his flesh hand over mine, giving it a soft squeeze. “You won’t, Y/N. All I ask is if you remember the door policy.” 

There was an undeniable spark when our skin touched but I couldn't relish in it for long, his hand was gone before I realized. A frown pulled low on my lips, one that didn’t go unnoticed by Bucky. 

“Goes both ways,” I winked. 

We shared a laugh and for the next few minutes, we enjoyed the easy flow that fell between us. He asked me how it was growing up and some of the things I was interested in, trying his best to get to know me. Given who he was and his reputation, I was shocked at some of the things I found out about him. 

He was a huge science nerd, it being his favorite subject in school. He was always interested in the future of technology and life, trying to find his own way to enhance something. 

Steve and him grew up together, always being there for one another. Bucky’s dad was in the army and passed away when he was older while his mom passed away when he was younger. For a long while it was just him and younger sister, until she died in a car accident a few years ago. Even with all of his men that worked for him and Steve, Bucky was still alone at the end of the day. 

“Can I ask you something?” I asked. 

“Sure.” 

“Why did you agree with my parents for this arrangement?” 

The question had been burning into the back of my mind since I found out a few months ago, not knowing why anyone would agree to it. 

“Given who you are, you could have anyone. I didn’t think you would need to arrange a marriage.”

“I don’t.” 

I blinked at his bluntness. 

“If I’m being honest, my dad was in the army with your dad. Story goes that your dad saved mine and owed him a favor. But with my dad dying, yours found me in order to cash in that favor,” Bucky admitted while smiling thanks to the waiter who refilled our coffee mugs. 

I scoffed. “Of fucking course.” 

Bucky looked at me confused. “What did your parents tell you?” 

“The same old bullshit. They wanted to make sure that I was set up for the rest of my life, money wise. I didn’t have the best of luck with dating either. They claim its from the heart but still.” 

I trailed off, the anger I felt about it being replaced with disappointment; not in my parents but me. 

I was such a failure in the dating department that my parents had to reach out for a favor on my behalf? It wasn’t just insulting but embarrassing. 

“You know,” Bucky leaned in closer towards me. “I find it hard to believe that you would have trouble finding someone to spend the rest of your life with.” 

I raised a brow at him. “Are you flirting with me, Mr. Barnes?” 

A flesh finger brushed underneath my chin, bringing my gaze closer to him. My heart hammered hard in my chest from how close we were. His warm breath fanned over my lips and I was filled with this sudden hunger, wanting to taste them. 

“Trust me, doll. You’d know when I’m flirting with you,” Bucky breathed. 

His finger brushed up from my chin to move a strand of hair from my face, tucking it softly behind my ear. His touch was gentle, comforting, and I leaned into his touch. 

“Boss?” 

We both quickly looked away from each other and saw Steve standing in the doorway, hands grasped behind his back. 

“We’ve got an issue at the lab,” Steve kept his gaze strictly on Bucky. 

Bucky’s shoulders tensed. “We’ll swing by after we drop Y/N off at the house.” 

“No time,” Steve informed. 

Bucky cursed under his breath and ran a hand over his chin then gave me his attention once again. “You stay in the car, understand?” 

“Uh, yeah. Of course. Where are we going?” I questioned while he pulled me to my feet. 

He helped me slip into my jacket before handing me off to Steve. “Get her in the car, I need to make a quick call.” 

Steve’s hand was at the low of my back, ready to lead me out of the restaurant, but I turned back towards Bucky. 

“Can I atleast know what’s going on?” 

Bucky gave Steve a hard look and without another word, he grasped my elbow and began walking me out of the restaurant. He was so close, I could almost feel his heartbeat against my back. 

“Trust me, Y/N. It’s better that you don’t ask questions and listen to Bucky’s orders. It’s the only way to keep you safe,” Steve suggested. 

“Safe from what?” I asked, voice raising slightly. “You guys have to give me some kind of leeway in information, so I know what I’m getting myself into.”

Steve remained silent and when Bucky’s sleek black SUV pulled up, he ushered me inside, not before giving a quick glance over his shoulder.

[sophierequests]

call me what you like

Navigation┃Main Masterlist┃Requests

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x f!Reader

A/N: Hello thereee, I just saw that I still have some drafts of non-requested fics, so I may just finish some of these before moving on to the newer requests. This is pretty short (and kinda stupid), but I just needed something cute for the vibes.

Summary: Kaz and the reader have been married for quite some years now, unbeknownst to their friends. But what if a slip up causes this shared secret to come to the surface?

Genre: Fluff and Comedy

Word Count: 1.9K

Warnings: Slight ooc!Kaz, marriage, cringe

“Kaz, do you still need the blueprints of Hoede’s mansion, or can I stow them away? They’ve been rotting here for weeks now, and I doubt that they’ll be needed in the near future.” you inquired gently, watching Kaz as he looked over the bank statements of the Crow Club.

His eyes darted to you and the rolls of blueprints, as he began to mentally consider the possibility of requiring the maps in the following missions.

“There won’t be any need for that any time soon. You may put them away.” he answered, his voice rough from spending the majority of his day working.

You sighed, meeting his gaze again. He was overworking himself again, and both of you knew that. But, no matter how hard you tried, he wouldn’t back down until everything was meticulously planned out.

“Do you need anything else? I can get you some tea? Have you eaten? You should consider taking a break.” you asked softly, stepping closer to his desk.

“I’m finishing that paper, and then I’ll join you for dinner.”

“You better do. Or else I have to drag you down there myself.” you playfully threatened, pointing the blueprints in the direction of his face.

His lips twitched into something akin to a grin, as he eyed you carefully.

“Thank you, darling. What would I do without you.” he cooed, his voice uncharacteristically caring.

Well, uncharacteristically to basically everyone else. Not to you.

“What was that, Brekker? Don’t let anyone else hear that, or they might think Dirtyhands has gone soft.” you teased with a smile, very much enjoying his flattery.

“Am I not allowed to talk to my wife that way?”

“I’m not complaining, love. But someday you might let it slip in front of someone else.”

Kaz nodded, knowing what you were referring to. The two of you had been married for quite a while now, unbeknownst to anyone else. Not even the Crows knew of your marriage or your relationship for that matter. It was hard keeping it a secret from everyone you loved, but in the Barrel, love was not a thing to portray publicly, especially not for one of the most notorious criminals in the city. So, in order to keep the both of you safe, you decided to act as if nothing had ever happened between the two of you.

This had worked surprisingly well. While you and Kaz spent way more time with each other, even trying to work on his touch aversion, your friends tried their best to get you together. They were convinced that there had to be some chance to bring you to admit your feelings for the other. You had to try your best to not let anything slip. To not accidentally touch his shoulder comfortingly after a failed job, or stand just a little bit too close to him while you were out. Especially, having to hide your wedding band pained you deeply, but you managed to attach it to a chain, hanging it around your neck and saying that it was your parents’ wedding ring. Kaz, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have any problems with hiding his genuine feelings towards you. As the years went on, however, he started to act a little bit more careless. His longing gazes getting longer, and his attention span during meetings getting shorter. It scared you that even the Bastard of the Barrel was beginning to crack when it came to his love life.

“Quit worrying. It doesn’t suit you.” your husband smirked, turning back to his work.

You only shook your head, flashing him a quick smile, as you left his office.

This play went well for a few more weeks. Until it didn’t.

It should’ve been a simple meeting. And it was for a while.

The Crows were all sitting at their respective places in Kaz’s office. Jesper and Wylan were sat right next to each other in a love seat, barely inches away from being situated in each other’s laps. Nina and Matthias had gotten, more or less, comfortable on the small couch that was facing the work desk, with Inej lounging on the thick armrest next to them. You sat on the small platform leading up to the window, close enough to Kaz so that you could see every tiny change of expression that flew across his face.

“Kaz, we’ll definitely need the keys to get into the warehouse. I checked the locks, and there’s no way, not even for you, to solve these without triggering the defence mechanism.” Inej stated after recounting some of the other observations she had made on her previous trip to the warehouse district.

“Don’t tell me that we have to go back into Hoede’s mansion.” Wylan groaned, throwing his head back, visibly not enjoying this suggestion.

“I fear we have no other choice.” Kaz grumbled, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

He was obviously unamused by the prospect of breaking into Councilman Hoede's mansion again, but there seemed to be no other way to get into the warehouse.

His hands wandered to the edge of his desk, irritation evident as they reached an empty spot, where the blueprints should’ve been. Embarrassingly, his eyes met yours in an instant, pleading for you to do something about the missing papers.

“Oh, I put them in the upper left drawer.” you answered the silent question, causing Jesper to smirk at you, entertained by the abstract communication system the two of you had established.

Before Kaz could get up, you hopped off the platform and crossed the room to get to said drawer.

“Don’t bother, I’ll get them.”

You heard some of the others - Wylan, Jesper and Nina, to be exact - chuckle at your statement, amused by your quick reaction.

Quickly, you found the plans and handed them over, receiving a thankful nod from Kaz. However, his next words caught you completely off-guard.

“Thank you, love.”

After uttering these words, the room went quiet. Everyone staring at you and Kaz. Your eyes flashed in his direction, shock was plastered on your face, as you searched his eyes, waiting for the pointe of a joke you missed. He already noticed his slip up, the cogs turning inside his head to come up with a possible way to talk himself out of this dilemma. You sat back down slowly, feeling a faint blush taint your cheeks, whilst Kaz turned his attention to the plans in front of him again, acting as if he didn’t just drop a massive bombshell.

“We have to look into an alternative escape route, in case things go south. Our last route worked out pretty well, but we can’t rely on it too heavily, otherwise we’re getting too predictable.” he tried to turn the team’s attention back to the plan again.

Inej either knew exactly what was going on, or she just tried to play into his attempt at saving face, because the professional expression returned to her face.

“As far as I know, there’s a barricaded basement door close to the west entrance. If we’re careful enough, we can slip in almost unnoticed.” she started, her gaze wandering between you and Kaz.

The general attention of the others, however, wasn’t even close to being focused on the factual discussion. Nina wasn’t leaning on Matthias anymore, instead, she was sitting up straight, a mischievous grin graced her face, whilst Matthias just stared straight at Kaz. Jesper’s face wasn’t as joyous anymore. He was currently trying to sort out his thoughts, straining to understand what was going on. Wylan looked utterly shocked, his eyes meeting yours, an unspoken question lying within them.

Before Kaz could continue to speak, however, Jesper shook his head, removing his arm from his partner’s shoulder and shaking his hands profusely.

“Are we not going to talk about what just happened?” he asked, his voice playful, but also genuinely shocked.

“What did just happen? I don’t think that there’s anything to talk about, but the plan, so if you don't mind-” Kaz inquired calmly.

“Oh, you’re not getting away that easily.” Jesper retorted, his gaze moving towards you again, “You can’t deny it, Kaz. You just called Y/N ‘love’!”

“Jesper, I doubt that this is relevant t-”

“Saints, just ask her out already!” Nina interjected, throwing her head back into the couch, “It’s getting painful to watch. And you embarrassed yourself enough already with that statement.”

Kaz paused, his face turning towards you almost pleadingly. You knew that there was no other way out of this situation, so you just nodded slightly.

“Am I not allowed to talk about my wife that way?” he asked, his question sounding rather like a statement.

The room went quiet again. Even Inej stopped dead in her tracks, as her brain steadily connected the dots.

“Wife? As in, you’re officially married and all that jazz?” Wylan sputtered, almost tripping over his own words as he talked.

“Brekker, you’re not serious, are you?” Nina added, her mouth staying a little agape after finishing her sentence.

“He can’t be serious. We would’ve definitely noticed if two of our best friends were married.” Jesper tried to rationalize the uncomfortable situation.

“And also, the Demjin wouldn’t have the guts to ask someone out.” Matthias said, acting as if you and Kaz wouldn't be in the room too.

Inej’s eyes travelled between you and Kaz again, as a knowing smile formed on her lips. She shook her head in disbelief, as she started to talk.

“The ring around your necklace didn’t belong to your parents, did it?” she asked, looking at you intently.

“Nope.” you replied, grinning back at her, as you took off the necklace carefully.

Her head turned, and her gaze shifted towards her boss again.

“There also was no trading mission in Ravka that the two of you had to attend all these years ago, was there?” she added, barely being able to contain her laughter.

“There was. It just wasn’t the reason why we had to delay our departure for two weeks. Adding a honeymoon to a business trip is definitely something to experience.” he answered matter-of-factly, a crooked grin on his lips.

“Don't tell me that you're in on the joke too, Inej?” the sharpshooter inserted himself back into the conversation, still not believing anything that was said.

“Jes, we’re serious.” you chuckled, removing the wedding band from its chain, and putting it on your ring finger.

Kaz’s eyes followed your motions intently, a content expression settling on his face.

“Wait, that job in Ravka was like,” Wylan started, pausing quickly to sort through his memories, “three years ago?”

“You’ve been together for three years?” Nina blurted out, also continuing to stare at you.

“Don't be ridiculous, Zenik. We’ve been married for three years. We’ve been together for way longer.” Kaz stated coolly, having to force a controlled expression onto his features, whilst a smile was trying to break through the surface.

“What?” was the general reaction you got from your friends, some still shocked by this new revelations, others just smiling at the two of you.

You tried to meet Kaz’s gaze again, but he was focused on something else. With controlled motions, he began removing his black leather gloves, revealing a pair of slender pale hands. The golden wedding band he wore on his left finger was a stark contrast to the almost white skin of his hands.

“Djiel receive me, the Demjin is wearing one too.” Matthias muttered under his breath, as your friends started bombarding you with questions.

[suddencolds]

The Worst Timing | [5/5]

we made it!!! part 5/5 + a mini epilogue (5.6k words) at long last 🥹 (aka the installment in which i remember that h/c has a c in it in addition to the h, haha.) [part 1] is here!

this is an OC fic - here is a list of everything I've written w these two!

Summary: Yves invites Vincent to a wedding, in France, where the rest of his family will be in attendance. It's a very important wedding, so he's definitely not going to let anything—much less the flu—ruin it. (ft. fake dating, an international trip, downplaying illness, sharing a hotel room)

—

The world comes back to him in pieces—first the wooden panels of the ceiling, the sloped wooden beams. The coldness of the room, the slight, monotonous whir of the air circulating through one of the vents overhead.

He’s leaned up against the wall, seated on the floor in the hallway, and Vincent is kneeling beside him, his eyebrows furrowed.

It takes him a moment to realize where he is. He had been about to head back to the courtyard, hadn’t he? He doesn’t have much memory of anything that happened after, but judging by Vincent’s reaction, he thinks he can probably guess.

“Hi,” Yves says, for lack of a better thing to say. 

He watches a complicated set of expressions flicker through Vincent’s face—relief, first, before it turns to something distinctly less neutral.

“You’re awake,” Vincent says. He turns away, for a moment. Yves notes the clench of his jaw, the tightness of his grip—his fingers white around Yves’s sleeve.

“Was I out for long?”

“A couple minutes.”

Yves wants to say something. He should say something. Anything to lighten the tension, anything to get the point across that this is all just an unlucky miscalculation, on his part. It really isn’t something Vincent should have to be worried about. 

“I’m sorry for making you wait,” he starts. Really, what he means is, I’m sorry for making you worry about me. “I promise I’mb fine.”

The look on Vincent’s face, then, is something that Yves hasn’t seen before. 

“Why do you have to—” he starts, frustration rising in his voice. He sighs, his jaw set. “I don’t understand why you—” He drops his hand from Yves’s sleeve, and it’s then when Yves notices the stiffness to his shoulders, the tension in his posture. He runs a hand through his hair, lets out another short, exasperated breath. “You’re not fine.” 

It’s strange, Yves thinks, to see him like this—Vincent, who usually never wears his emotions on his face, looks clearly displeased, now. 

“Hey,” Yves says, softly. He reaches out to take Vincent’s hand. Vincent goes very still with the contact, but he doesn’t say anything. “I—”

Fuck. His body seems to always pick the worst time for unwanted interjections. He wrenches his hand away just in time to smother a sneeze into his sleeve, though it’s forceful enough to leave him slightly lightheaded. 

“Stay here,” Vincent says, getting to his feet. “Lay down if you get dizzy again.”

Yves blinks. “Where are you going?”

“To tell the others that we’re leaving.”

Yves wants to protest. Dinner is already halfway over. It’s not as if the festivities are particularly strenuous. They’ll probably move inside after dinner, where it’s warmer.

But he thinks better of it. Judging by how exhausted he still feels, how much his head aches, it probably wouldn’t be wise to push it. 

“Don’t tell them about this,” he says.

Vincent’s eyebrows furrow. “What?”

“Aimee is going to worry if she finds out,” Yves says, dropping his head to his knees. He doesn’t want to look at Vincent, doesn’t want to know what expression is on his face. “Just—let them have this night. It’s—supposed to be perfect.” I really wanted it to be perfect, he almost adds. There’s a strange tightness to his throat as he says it, a strange heaviness to his chest.

He knows what it means. If, after he’s tried so hard to do his part, their evening still ends up ruined on his own accord, he’s not sure if he could live with himself after.

For a moment, Vincent doesn’t say anything at all.

“Okay,” he says, at last. “Just stay here.”

And then he heads down the hallway. The door at the end of the reception hall swings shut behind him. Yves thinks he should be relieved, but he finds that he doesn’t feel much other than exhausted.

—

The ride home on the shuttle is silent. Vincent sits next to him, even though all of the other seats are empty. Yves thinks the proximity is probably inadvisable. He opens his mouth to say as much, and then shuts it.

Vincent sits and stares straight ahead, his posture stiff, and doesn’t say anything for the entirety of the ride. It’s strange. Yves is no stranger to silence—Vincent is, after all, a coworker, and Yves has endured more than a few quiet elevator rides and quiet team lunches at the office, but it’s strange because it’s Vincent.

Vincent, who usually takes care to make conversation with him, whenever it’s just the two of them. Vincent, who stayed up through the lull of antihistamines a couple months ago to talk to Yves, until Yves had given him explicit permission to go to sleep.

Yves tries not to think about it. Through the haze of his fever, everything feels unusually bright—the interior of the shuttle, with its leather seats and metal handrails.

The shuttle stops just outside the main entrance to their hotel. Just before he gets to the doors, he stumbles. Vincent’s hand shoots out, instinctively, to steady him.

“Sorry,” Yves says, a little sheepishly. It’s not that he’s dizzy. The roads are just uneven, and it’s dark. “I can walk.”

But Vincent doesn’t let go—not for the entirety of the walk through the cool, air-conditioned lobby, through the hallways to the hotel elevators. Not when the elevator stops at their floor, not when they pass by the grid of wooden doors leading up to their room. 

Before Yves can manage to reach for his keycard, Vincent has already swiped them in, scarily efficient. He slides the card back into his pocket, pushes the door open. 

“Thadks for walking me back,” Yves says. “Sorry you couldn’t stay longer. You mbust’ve been halfway through dinner.”

“I already finished eating,” Vincent says.

“Even dessert?” Yves says. “I think Aimee got everyone creme brulee from one of the local bakeries. I was excited to try it. Maybe Leon can save us some.” he muffles a yawn into his hand. It’s too early to be sleeping, but his pull out bed looks very inviting right now.

“Take the bed,” Vincent says.

Yves blinks at him. “What?”

“The bed’s warmer.”

There’s absolutely no way he’s going to let Vincent take the pull-out bed in his place, Yves thinks blearily. He’s spent the past couple nights muffling sneezes into the covers—if there’s anything he’s certain of, it’s that he really, really doesn’t want Vincent to catch this.

“I dod’t think we should switch,” he says, sniffling. “I’ve been sleeping here ever sidce I started coming down with this. I’mb— hHeh-!” He veers away, raising an elbow to his face. “hh—HHEh’IIDZschH’-iEEW! Ugh, I’mb pretty sure I contaminated it.”

“We can both take the bed, if you’d prefer,” Vincent says. As if it’s that simple.

Yves opens his mouth to protest—is Vincent really okay with sharing a bed with him?—but then he thinks about Vincent finding him in the hallway—the stricken expression on his face, then, his eyes wide, his jaw clenched—and thinks better of himself. 

Instead, he lets Vincent lead him to the bedroom. The bed is neatly made—the covers drawn, the pillows propped up against the headboard.

“Lay down,” Vincent says, pushing lightly down on his shoulders. Yves sits. He peels off his suit jacket, folds it, and sets it aside on the nightstand.

“Hey, I kdow that was sudden,” he says, in reference to earlier. “I’mb sorry you had to witness it. I… probably shouldn’t have pushed it.”

Vincent says nothing, to that.

Yves lays down, shuts his eyes. “You didn’t have to accompady me home, you know.”

Silence. He exhales, burrowing deeper into the covers. “It’s not as bad as it looks, seriously.”

He opens his mouth to say more. He has to say something, he thinks, to convince Vincent that it’s really not that big of a deal. Anything, to assuage that look on Vincent’s face.

But he’s so tired. He can feel the exhaustion now that he’s finally let himself lay down. The bed is traitorously comfortable, with its soft feather pillows and its fluffy layers of blankets, and Vincent was right—it really is warmer.

He feels the press of a hand on his forehead, feels the cold, unyielding pressure. Feels gentle, calloused fingers brush the hair out of his face.

“Sleep,” Vincent says, firmly. 

And Yves—

Yves, already half gone, is powerless, when Vincent says it like that.

—

When he wakes, it’s just barely bright outside. He takes it in—the first few rays of sunlight, streaking through the curtains. The bed, a little more well-cushioned than the pullout bed he’d spent the past few nights on—higher up and decisively sturdier. He blinks.

Beside him, seated on a chair he recognizes as belonging to the desk at the opposite end of the room, is Vincent.

Vincent, awake. Yves isn’t sure if he’s slept at all. He certainly doesn’t look tired, at first glance, but closer inspection reveals a little more. It’s evident in the way he holds his shoulders, stiff, and perhaps a little tired, as if there’s been tension sitting in them all night. 

He’s reading a book. Whether he bought it at the convenience store downstairs, or on one of the other days when Yves was busy running errands for the wedding and Vincent was elsewhere, or whether it’d been sitting in his suitcase since the start of the vacation, Yves doesn’t know.

“How’s the book?” Yves says.

His throat is dry, he realizes, for the way it makes him cough, afterwards. Vincent’s eyes meet his, unerringly. He shuts the book, sets it down on the bedside table.

“It’s a little boring,” Vincent says. “How’s the fever?”

Before Yves can answer, Vincent leans forward and presses the back of his hand to Yves’s forehead. His touch is unerringly gentle, and Yves allows himself to look. 

Vincent’s eyebrows are furrowed, his eyes narrowed slightly in concentration, and Yves wonders, suddenly, if he’s been this worried for awhile, now. If he’s been this worried ever since he’d walked them both back into the hotel room last night.

“I’m fine,” Yves says. 

It has the opposite effect he intends it to.

Vincent’s expression shutters. “The last time you said that, you passed out in front of me,” he says, withdrawing his hand with a frown. “So forgive me if I don’t entirely believe you.”

Yves sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. It’s a fair point. “I’m usually more reliable whed it comes to these things.”

“What things?”

“Kdowing my limits.”

Vincent says, “I think you knew your limits. I think you just didn’t want to honor them, because you decided the wedding took precedence.”

He’s… frustrated, Yves realizes. Still. He’s sure he can guess why. Their fake relationship does not extend to Vincent having to look after him, to Vincent having to drop everything in the middle of a wedding, of all things, to take him home. To Vincent having to worry about all this—the fever Yves knows he has, now, and the bed he’s currently taking up—on top of everything else. As if being in a foreign country, surrounded by people he knows almost exclusively through Yves, who, for the most part, converse in a language he barely speaks, wasn’t already enough work on its own.

And Yves gets it. He hadn’t wanted this to happen, either. He’d told himself that if this—this pretend relationship, this pretense—is contingent upon both of them playing their part, the least he can do is be self-sufficient outside of it.

But now—because Vincent is here with him, and because they share a hotel room—all of this is now Vincent’s problem, too, by extension.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” he asks.

Vincent smiles at him, a little wryly, as if the answer is evident. 

“You gave up your bed just for me to steal it,” Yves says, in an attempt to lighten the mood. “It’s really comfortable, and all, but I’mb pretty sure they make these kinds of beds for two.”

“Is that a proposition?” Vincent says.

“Maybe.” Yves thinks it through. “Realistically, probably ndot, until I have a chance to shower.” He’s still dressed in his dress shirt and slacks from yesterday, a little embarrassingly—he should probably get changed. “Speaking of which, I should do that soon, so you don’t feel the need to stay up all night reading—” Yves leans forward, squints at the book cover on the nightstand. “—Hemingway? Somehow, I didn’t expect you to be the type.”

“I’m not,” Vincent says. “Victoire lent it to me.”

“Oh,” Yves says, trying to think of when Vincent would’ve had time to ask her for a recommendation. “Yeah. She’s—” He twists aside, ducking into his elbow. “hHEH’IIDzschh-EEW! snf-! She’s quite the literary reader. Is it really that boring?”

“I can see why people think the transparency of his prose is appealing,” Vincent says. “But I’m fifty pages in, and nothing has happened.”

“Isd’t that the sort of thing Hemingway can get away with, since he’s straightforward about it?”

“In a short story, maybe,” Vincent says. Then: “You are trying to make me feel better.”

Ah.

Yves laughs. “Where in the world did you get that idea?”

Vincent just sighs. “I would be exceptionally unobservant not to notice when I’ve seen you do the same thing all this week.”

“What?”

“Telling people that you’re fine,” Vincent says. “And distracting them when they don’t believe you.”

Yves doesn’t think that’s entirely accurate. It’s not like he was trying to be dishonest. It’s just that it was never the most important thing to address.

“Distracting is a bit disingenuous.”

“I don’t get it,” Vincent says, with a frown. “You’re so insistent on putting yourself last, even when you were obviously—” He sighs. There it is—that expression again, the one that makes itself evident through the furrowed eyebrows, the tense set of his jaw—frustration, and maybe something else. “You’re surrounded by people who care about you, so why not just—”

“There are plenty of things more important than how I’mb feeling,” Yves says.

“I don’t think that’s true.”

But of course it is, Yves thinks. A wedding is a once in a lifetime occurrence. An illness is nothing, in the face of that.

“I promised I’d be there,” he says, because when it really comes down to it, it’s true. He had no intention of going back on his word. “I didn’t want to be the one to let them down. Is that so hard to believe?” He reaches up with a hand to massage his temples. His head aches, even though he’s slept for long enough that he feels like it ought to feel a little better, by now. “It’s already bad enough that I had to drag you into this.” 

“You didn’t drag me into this,” Vincent says. “I came on my own volition.”

Yves tries a laugh, but it’s humorless. “I made you leave halfway through the wedding dinner.”

“I’d already finished eating.”

“Ndot to mention, you practically had to carry me upstairs.”

“Because you’re ill.”

“That’s no excuse.” Yves wants to say more, but he finds himself beholden to a tickle in the back of his throat—irritatingly present, until he concedes to it by ducking into his elbow to cough, and cough.

When he looks up, blinking tears out of his vision, Vincent isn’t looking at him.

“You should get some rest,” he says, simply.

Yves can tell—just by the way he says it—that there is no argument to him, anymore. Just like that, Vincent is back to being closed off—poised and perfectly, infuriatingly unreadable, just like he is at work, his face so carefully a mask of indifference, even in the most stressful presentations, the most frustrating disagreements. Yves wants none of it.

 “Hey,” he says. A part of him itches to crack a joke, to change the subject—anything to take away this air of seriousness. A part of him wants to reach out, again—to take Vincent’s hand, entwine their fingers; to reassure him, again, that he’s really fine.

“I’m sorry,” he says, instead. Maybe it’s the fever that loosens his tongue. Maybe it’s just a combination of everything.

He can feel Vincent’s eyes on him, still. Vincent has always held a sort of intensity to him, a quiet sort of perceptiveness. “I’m not sure I follow,” Vincent says.

“This visit was supposed to be fun for you,” he says. “And now you’re here, stuck in the hotel room because of me, even though today was supposed to be for sightseeing.”

It doesn’t feel like enough. What can he say to make it enough? There’s a strange ache in his chest, a strange, crushing pressure. Yves is horrified to find his eyes stinging. He’s held it together for so long, he thinks. Why now? Why, when Vincent is right here?

But a part of him knows, too. Of course traveling to a different country would be more involved than going to a party, or spending an evening at a stranger’s house. But there was a time when he thought this could really just be a fun excursion for the both of them—half a week in his family’s home country, with someone who he thoroughly enjoys spending time with. 

And now, because of this untimely illness—or because of his own short-sightedness in managing it—it isn’t. He didn’t get to stay through dinner, didn’t get to wish Aimee and Genevieve a good rest of their night, like he’d planned to. He has no idea if things went smoothly in his absence. To make matters worse, Vincent is here, having endured a sleepless night, instead of anywhere else.

And really, when he thinks about it, who does have to blame for all of this, except himself?

“I didn’t mean for it to turn out like this,” he says. “So I’m sorry.” He resists the urge to swipe a hand over his eyes—surely, he thinks, that would give him away.

He turns away. It’s convenient, he thinks, that the embarrassing sniffle that follows could be attributed to something else. 

“You’ve been nothing but accommodating to me, this whole visit,” Vincent says. “If anything, I should’ve insisted that you take the bed earlier. You haven’t been sleeping well, have you?”

He says it with such certainty. Yves opens his mouth to protest this—or to apologize, for all the times he must’ve kept Vincent up, including but not limited to last night—but Vincent presses on.

“You spent all of yesterday morning helping everyone get ready, and when I got back, you apologized for not being around—as if the reason why you weren’t around wasn’t that you were so busy making sure everything was fine for everyone else.” Vincent pauses, takes in a slow, measured breath. Yves is surprised to hear that he sounds… distinctly angry, in a way that Yves is not used to hearing.

“And then you showed up to the rehearsal and the wedding, even though you weren’t feeling well. And you still think you have something to apologize for? Are you even hearing yourself?” Yves hears the creak of the chair as he stands, the sound of quiet footsteps. Feels the dip of the bed as Vincent takes a seat at the edge of it. 

“You know, after you left the dinner table, Genevieve was talking about how much she liked your speech? Do you know that yesterday morning, Solaine told me how grateful she was that you helped her with fixing her dress? Do you know that when I got lunch with Leon and Victoire, they told me how much time you spent preparing for everything—the speech, and the wedding, both?”

Oh. Yves hadn’t known any of those things, and he knows Vincent isn’t the kind of person who would lie about this sort of thing.

“I don’t get it,” Vincent says, sounding distinctly pained to say it. “How could you possibly think that you haven’t done enough?”

Yves finds himself taken aback—by the frustration in his voice, by the fact that Vincent has noticed these things in the first place, by the fact that he’s deemed them important enough to take stock of. He makes it sound so simple. 

“I don’t know,” Yves says, at last. He shuts his eyes. “If it was enough.”

“I’m telling you that it was,” Vincent says.

But Yves knows that he could have done more, if the circumstances were different. If he hadn’t been so out of it during the wedding. If he’d taken the necessary precautions to avoid coming down with this in the first place. If he’d been able to stay through dinner, at least; if he hadn’t needed Vincent to accompany him home. 

“You don’t believe me,” Vincent says, with a sigh.

Yves doesn’t say anything, to that.

“I can’t speak for anyone else,” Vincent says. There’s the slight rustling of the covers as he shifts, rearranging one of the pillows at the headboard. “But I had fun.”

Yves’s heart twists.

It’s sweet, unexpectedly. “You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better,” Yves says.

“When have I ever said anything just to make you feel better?” Vincent says, with a short laugh. When Yves chances a look at him, he’s smiling down at himself. “I mean it. Meeting your family has been a lot of fun. It’s not often that I get the chance to be a part of something like this.”

Whether he’s referring to France, or the wedding and the festivities, or being surrounded by Yves’s large extended family, Yves isn’t sure. But if Vincent is trying to cheer him up, it’s working.

“I can see why you like France so much,” he says, turning his gaze out the window, though the view outside is filtered through the semi-translucent curtains. “It’s beautiful.”

“Today was supposed to be the last day for sightseeing,” Yves says, a little regretful. “But you’re stuck here.”

“In a sunny, luxurious hotel room, with a view of the pool and the garden?” Vincent says, with a scoff. “I could think of worse places to be.”

Staying up all night, just to check up on Yves, more accurately. Vincent must be tired, too—yesterday was already tiring enough. And now it’s morning already, and he hasn’t gotten any sleep. 

“Reading Hemingway,” Yves adds.

Vincent looks a little surprised. Then he laughs. “Yes. I guess you’re right. Perhaps it’s an agonizing experience after all.”

The yawn he stifles into his hand, after that isn’t half as subtle as he tries to make it.

Yves feels his eyebrows creep up. “Are you sure you don’t want to get some sleep? There’s plenty of room.” He scoots a little closer to the edge of the bed, just to make a point.

Vincent peers down at the space beside him, a little hesitant. “At 10am?”

“It’d be, what, 4am, back in Eastern time?” Yves says. “By Ndew York standards, you’re supposed to already be asleep.”

“That’s not how it works,” Vincent says, but he dutifully moves a little closer to Yves anyways. He’s changed out of yesterday’s wedding attire, more sensibly, but now he’s wearing a knitted cardigan which Yves thinks looks unfairly, terribly good on him. Yves finds himself marveling at the unfairness of it all. How can someone look so good wearing something so casual?

Vincent smells good, up close. When he lays down next to Yves, pulling the covers gingerly over himself—leaving a careful amount of room between them, but still dangerously, intoxicatingly close—Yves feels his breath catch in his throat.

Vincent is right there, less than an arm’s length away from him, closer than he’s ever been, and Yves—Yves is—

“See,” Yves says, as evenly as he can manage to, in his current state, as if his heart isn’t practically beating out of his chest. He swallows. His throat feels dry. “This bed definitely fits two.”

“I suppose it does,” Vincent says. “Now you can tell me if I’m a terrible person to share a bed with.”

“After everything I’ve put you through,” Yves says, “I think I’d honestly feel reassured if you were.”

Vincent smiles, again, as if he finds this humorous. “Are you sure you’re going to be fine?”

“Positive,” Yves says. “You should sleep. I’ll wake you if I ndeed anything.”

“Okay. If you’re sure.” Vincent shuts his eyes.

It’s not long before his breathing evens out, not long before he goes perfectly still. He must really be tired, Yves thinks, with a pang.

Yves, for some reason, finds that he can’t get to sleep. He stares up at the ceiling for what feels like minutes on end, shuts his eyes, all to no avail. Maybe it’s because he’s already slept far more than his usual share. Maybe it’s the jetlag. Maybe it’s merely Vincent’s unusual presence—the strangeness of having him so close, in an environment so intimate.

But when he allows himself to look, he sees—

Vincent, his eyes shut, his eyelashes fanning out over his cheeks. From the window, the filtered light gleams unevenly across the crown of dark hair on his head. There’s almost no movement to him at all, aside from the even rise and fall of his shoulders.

And Yves knows what the feeling in his chest is. He’s regrettably, intimately familiar with it.

He just isn’t sure he likes what it means.

—

Vincent—despite falling asleep so quickly—is up before him. When Yves wakes, next, it’s to a hand to his forehead.

“Hey,” Vincent is saying, softly. “Yves. You have a visitor.”

Yves opens his eyes.

He’s feeling—a little better, remarkably. Still feverish, still a little unsteady, but leagues better as compared to yesterday. When he looks over, he sees—

He doesn’t jolt upright, but it’s a close thing. “Aimee!”

He barely has a chance to ask before she’s crashing into him, encircling him in a tight hug. “Yves!” she exclaims, pulling back from him. “How are you feeling? Oh my gosh, when I heard you left early because you were unwell, I was so worried…”

Yves grimaces, turning away. “Sorry, I had every idtention of staying until the end—”

“You came all the way out with the flu!” she says. “I honestly can’t believe you. The fact that you still took the trouble to attend with a fever—”

“It—” Yves starts, but he finds himself twisting away, lifting an arm to his face. “hhEH-! HEEhD’TTSCHH-iiiEEw! Snf-! It’s fide, snf-! I’mb practically recovered already.”

“I should’ve told you not to push yourself when you told me you were coming down with something,” Aimee says, shaking her head. “And you stayed and gave such a lovely speech, even though you weren’t feeling well? When I was talking to Victoire after, she mentioned that you’ve been sick for days and Genevieve—you should’ve said something.”

“I’ll say somethidg next time,” Yves says, a little sheepishly. “Did the wedding go okay?”

Aimee visibly brightens, at this. “It was more than okay,” she says, her eyes gleaming. “It blew every expectation that I had out of the water.”

Aimee fills him in on everything that happened after he left, last night—dessert, the first dance, the cake-cutting; her favorites out of the photos they’d taken after the ceremony (a shot of Genevieve braiding her hair during the cocktail hour; a shot of them leaning in close, for the dance, tired but smiling; a shot of the cake with its multiple tiers, the frosting strung like banners across it; another where both of them are holding onto the cutting knife together and Genevieve looks like she is trying not to laugh; a shot of the bouquet toss, the flowers suspended in mid-air). She tells him about the conversations she and Genevieve had with others about marriage and their futures and their plans for their honeymoon.

Then she lectures him on how he should worry about his health first, next time. She tells him, in no uncertain terms, that she’s fully prepared to give him a piece of her mind the next time he tries to pull something like this. She insists that his health is more important than anything. Vincent stands off to the side the entire time, his arms crossed, passively listening in, but when Yves looks over helplessly, mid-lecture, he definitely looks a little smug. 

All in all, she doesn’t seem disappointed in him at all. And, more importantly, she seems happy. Yves finds himself relieved, at this.

Genevieve stops by, too, a little later, to thank him for the advice he’d given her the day before the wedding. She hugs him too, and she leaves him a bag of tea that she promises “is practically a cure to anything—I hope it makes your flight home tomorrow a little more tolerable.” Victoire stops by, with Leon, and Yves resigns himself to more lecturing from the both of them. It’s humbling, a little, to be lectured by his younger sister and his younger brother, though he concedes that perhaps this time, it might be at least partially warranted.

Then Leon opens their hotel fridge to show him the two creme brulees he and Vincent had missed out on, packaged nicely in small paper containers. (“Vincent told me you were interested in these,” he says, and Yves finds himself slightly mortified—but perhaps also a little endeared—that whatever it was that he’d said last night, offhandedly, Vincent had deemed it important enough to text Leon about.)

Later, after Yves showers and gets changed—when he and Vincent eat the creme brulees at the table in the living room, and Vincent tells him that he’s finished the book, perhaps a little masochistically (“it doesn’t get any better,” he says, sounding a little spiteful)—Yves finds himself smiling.

He’s happy, he realizes, despite everything that’s happened. Even with the slight headache, and the lingering congestion, the fever that hasn’t quite gone away entirely. The revelation comes as a surprise to him, at first. But when he thinks about the people he’s surrounded with, he thinks perhaps it isn’t all that surprising.

—

EPILOGUE

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” Vincent asks.

“Yes,” Yves says. It’s not a lie.

This time, he’s seated right next to the window, and Vincent is in the middle seat. Yves had offered to take the middle seat instead, but Vincent had insisted(“If you wanted to sleep, you could lean against the window,” he’d said, and Yves had accepted only because it would be better to fall asleep against the window than do something embarrassing, like fall asleep on Vincent’s shoulder).

“It’s just the annoyidg residual symptoms, now,” he says. “I—”

God. He always has the worst timing. He veers away, muffling a tightly contained sneeze into his shoulder.

“hHEH-’IIDDZschH-yyEW! Snf-! I’mb — hHhEHh’DjjsSHH-iEW! Ugh, I’m fine. I feel better thad I sound.”

“Bless you,” Vincent says, leaning over to press his hand against Yves’s forehead. “No fever,” he says. “That’s good. But you should take another day off when we get back.”

Yves doesn’t think taking another day off is necessary. “I spedt the entirety of yesterday sleeping,” he says. “I think I’ve rested enough.”

Vincent just raises an eyebrow at him. “Need I remind you that someone very wise told you to take it easy?”

“Since when has Aimee been your spokesperson?”

“She made a lot of good points,” Vincent says, deceptively unassuming. “I think you should consider taking notes.”

Yves looks at him for a moment. “You’re laughing at me.”

This time, Vincent smiles. “Maybe.”

Yves leans back in his seat, reaching up with one hand to massage his temples. The changing cabin pressure is not exactly comfortable—his head still hurts a little, but he’s flown enough times to know that it won’t be as much of a problem once they finish their ascent. 

“Thadks again for coming,” he says, unwrapping one of the small, packaged pillows the airline has left on their seats. 

“You invited me,” Vincent says, blinking. “All I did was show up.”

But that isn’t true at all, Yves thinks. Vincent is the one who spent time learning basic French, who met Yves’s family and who spoke with everyone with genuine interest, who bought Yves medicine and water, all while being careful to not be overbearing. Vincent is the one who left the wedding early to walk Yves back to the hotel, who stayed with him the entire day afterwards.

“That’s such a huge understatement I don’t even kdow where to get started,” Yves says. “Thanks for meetidg my family—they love you, by the way. They’re going to be askidg about you every summer from now on, I just know it.”

He can already picture it—June, this year, after busy season is over, if their fake relationship lasts that long. Another flight where they’re next to each other. Another dozen conversations about how they’d met, about what it’s like dating a coworker, about what their plans for the future are.

Perhaps it’s wishful thinking. This was never meant to be a long-term arrangement in the first place. But something about this—about being here with Vincent—just feels so unthinkingly easy.

“It’s no problem,” Vincent says. “The feeling is mutual. I’m glad I got to meet them.”

“Thanks for looking after me, too,” Yves says, with another apologetic smile. “I’mb sure being stuck in a hotel room all day wasn’t how you were planning on spending your last day of vacation.”

“I don’t mind,” Vincent says, sounding strangely like he means it. “I like spending time with you.”

Yves nearly drops the pillow he’s holding. 

When he looks back at Vincent, Vincent looks faintly amused. “Is that so surprising? I think I’d be a terrible fake boyfriend if I didn’t.”

“You make a really good one, as it stands,” Yves tells him, sincerely, and Vincent smiles.

Yves looks out the window—where the city beneath them begins to resolve itself into miniature, where the sky stretches where he can see Vincent reflected faintly back at him, from the glass—and finds that he feels impossibly light.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Garden of Secrets [13] - Sundews

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support my loves, it made my whole week, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler​ for helping me with the chapter!

Summary: Meeting the family can be quite challenging.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of sex.

Word Count: 4400

Series Masterlist

You had to admit, planning a wedding that was caused by a scandal was already quite difficult as you knew it would be, but pretending to be in love and having to convince others around you of your excitement for the said wedding was more difficult than you had assumed it would be.

And the fact that you were having your wedding gown made by your future husband’s former mistress was not even in the top ten reasons why this was so damn stressful. 

The wedding was in a week, and your nightmares had come back with their full force, waking you up gasping every night.

At least everyone else was excited though.

Your uncle was in his study, no doubt going over some papers, and Teddy was in one of the rooms, studying math with his tutor. You had left your aunt in the drawing room going over the list of the last-minute guests to the wedding breakfast an hour ago. To be honest, you weren’t even sure she noticed your absence considering how stressed she was about the wedding.

Well, you were more stressed out about what would happen after the wedding.

You shook your head slightly, forcing yourself to push the thoughts away. Snipping what seemed to be a wilting leaf of the rose in front of you, you huffed out a breath and leaned in to look at the stem closer in case you were missing anything, but then you heard your aunt clear her throat behind you.

“Auntie, I swear I do not care who comes to the wedding breakfast,” you said, your whole attention still on the rose. “You can invite whoever you want. Every guest will attend that thing for you or the Bridgertons anyway, not me.”

“Eh,” a familiar voice said. “Not every guest.”

Your head shot up and you dropped the shears, then jumped on your feet and whirled around, a breath leaving your lips. She looked exactly as you remembered her, as if it had been merely three days instead of over three years.

“Josie?” you whispered and she leaned on her hip.

“I look away for one moment and you fall in love?”

“Oh my God!” you exclaimed, flinging yourself to her and she took a step back as soon as your body collided with hers but she hugged you tight, a small laugh escaping from her lips.

“I missed you too Clover.”

“You’re here?” you asked, still holding her tight and your aunt clapped her hands together.

“Oh this is so wonderful! Josie my dear, why did you not tell us you were coming?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” she said as she pulled back, then cupped your cheek to see you better. “You look amazing.”

“Don’t go anywhere, I’ll get Teddy!” your aunt said and rushed back into the house while you clasped Josie’s hand with yours.

“Are you here for the wedding?”

She grinned at you. “And afterwards,” she said. “I suppose you could say that I’m back, permanently.”

You pulled back slightly. “Josie what about—”

“Don’t worry,” she cut you off. “I can handle mother and father if they dare step wherever I am. Let’s not talk about them now.”

You couldn’t help but pull her into another hug, your eyes burning as she placed a kiss into your hair.

“Besides, my little sister is getting married,” she said. “I will kind of have to keep an eye on you.”

You let out a teary chuckle, then pulled back and nodded. “I am.”

“I have millions of questions.”

“All in due time. Where are Bess and Andrew?”

“They’re dealing with the houses.”

You frowned. “Houses?”

“Yes well, Andrew inherited a house down the street where we’ll live, and Bess’ late husband had a house here as well, she owns it now,” she said. “They’ll hire the staff and everything, they will join us later on. They both missed you.”

“I missed them too!” you said. “And is everything alright?”

“More than alright,” she said. “Everything has been amazing lately, aside from you giving me a heart attack. What kind of a letter was that?”

“Well how was I supposed to—” you started but stopped talking when you saw your aunt enter the garden with Teddy and Josie followed your gaze, then turned around.

Teddy looked a bit shy as he approached you two, still holding your aunt’s hand, his other hand by his mouth so that he could bite at his nail. Josie gasped, her jaw dropping as Teddy and your aunt reached you, and she let go of his hand, gently nudging him forward.

“Go on,” she said in a soft voice and Teddy cleared his throat, then looked up at Josie.

“Hello, I’m Teddy.”

A small sob climbed up Josie’s throat and she sniffled, her eyes fixed on him. She opened her mouth but no voice came out, so she took a deep breath and tried again.

“Hello Teddy,” she said. “Do you remember me?”

Teddy thought for a moment, then shook his head.

“But I know you’re Josie,” he added in a haste. “You sent me letters. Y/N read them to me.”

“Dear God you grew up so much…” Josie whispered as she crouched down to get to his level. “You were a baby when I last saw you.”

Teddy looked at you as if asking for your help with how to answer that, and you motioned at him to come over. He rushed to you, half hiding behind your skirt and you fixed his hair.

“See, I told you she would come back,” you said softly and Teddy tilted his head.

“Will you stay?” he asked her and Josie wiped at her eyes, then smiled.

“I will.”

“Here?”

“Very close to here,” she said. “And you can come and stay with me whenever you want.”

Teddy stole a look at you again, waiting for your permission and you nodded fervently.

“Should be fun, no?” you asked him. “This way you will have three rooms Teddy. Here, my house and Josie’s house.”

Teddy bit inside his cheek. “Can I put my toys there too?”

“Well yes, but if you want we can buy you new toys as well,” Josie said, making him smile wide.

“Really?”

“Oh yes. Different toys for different houses, it only makes sense.”

Your aunt let out a laugh at the sight of pure excitement on Teddy’s face and you ruffled his hair. Teddy paused for a moment, then shifted his weight.

“Is it okay if I don’t really remember you though?”

Josie took a deep breath, then nodded.

“It’s alright,” she said. “It just means we will make new memories, hm?”

Teddy grinned and hugged your legs sideways. “Uh huh. Can Y/N come to your house too?”

“We’ll see,” Josie winked at you, making your jaw drop.

“Oh I see how it is,” you said with a laugh. “I knew you were lying when you said you missed me.”

“I did miss you but Teddy is much cuter than you.”

“She’s cute too!” Teddy protested, still hugging you tight and you leaned down to press a kiss on top of his head.

“She’s joking Teddy,” you said. “Of course I’ll be there.”

Your aunt fanned her face with her hand. “Oh dear God, I feel emotional…” she said, sniffling. “All of you together and happy, just as it was always supposed to be.”  

“Took us long enough,” Josie said, still smiling and you heaved a sigh.

“It really did.”

Your aunt clapped her hands together.

“Josie, come with me,” she said. “Your uncle will lose his mind when he sees you!”

                                            *

It felt almost surreal that Josie was here with you after years, and that she would stay. You were so happy that you couldn’t even sit still and by the time she was done talking to your uncle and aunt and sent Teddy to his tutor so that he could continue his lesson, you were almost buzzing with anticipation.

“So,” she said as she came to plop down on the bench next to you. “It is very clear that I have much to hear.”

“So do I,” you said. “How are Bess and Andrew?”

“They’re as you left them but you are not,” she said. “Clover. Come on, tell me.”

You cleared your throat and sat up straighter. “I’m getting married.”

“I know,” she said. “What I’m wondering is how it came to be.”

“Fate.”

“Y/N.”

Heaving a sigh, you leaned back on the bench, resting your elbows on the marble as you looked up at the sky with narrowed eyes, enjoying the warm sunlight on your skin.

“Is he forcing you?”

You turned to her and shook your head. “Of course not.”

In a way it was true. Benedict wasn’t forcing you into anything, he was being forced into this as much as you were.

But you couldn’t tell her that. She had just returned to the country and you didn’t want her to be worried about you or your upcoming marriage. You knew her, she would stop at nothing if she so much as heard an implication that you did not want this wedding.

“Benedict is not like that,” you added in a haste and she tilted her head.

“Is it love then?”

And this right there was where it got tricky.

Josie was the one person who knew you the best, and she would see right through you if you tried to lie to her. It had been that way since you were little, and just a couple years apart didn’t change that, so instead of outright lying to her, you were going to have to bend the truth a little by telling her only a part of it.

“It’s something,” you ended up saying and she scoffed a laugh.

“Come on,” she insisted. “You can tell me whatever it is, you know I would never say anything to anyone. And if you happened to fall in love—”

“I’m too smart to fall in love,” you cut her off and she raised her brows.

“Alright,” she said with an amused smile on her face. “What is it?”

“Not love,” you said, “Out of question.”

“Fine, then what?” she insisted. “Why are you marrying him? Letter after letter you wrote how he annoyed you, how you couldn’t stand him and all of a sudden you woke up a changed woman—”

“It’s not the emotional aspect,” you cut her off. “It’s physical.”

Which wasn’t a lie at all.

You did not believe in love for yourself at least, but you knew very well that desire existed. That fire that burned through you when he had kissed you, the way your fingers almost twitched to at least touch him whenever he was around you, it all signaled the same thing. You weren’t blind, you were aware of just how attractive he was and that he was quite…skilled in matters of intimacy if his kiss was anything to go by.

Josie pulled back slightly to see you better. “Pardon?”

You rolled your eyes at her. “Don’t pretend you do not know what I speak of—”

“I know very well what you speak of,” she tried to suppress a smirk. “What did you two do?”

You shot her a light hearted glare. “Not that.”

“But whatever it was, it was enough for you to accept his proposal?” she asked and took a deep breath. “Clover I’m glad you enjoyed what took place but you cannot build a life on desire alone—”

“It’s not just that,” the words left your mouth before you had a chance to stop them. “Besides, I’ve made my decision. I’m not going to change my mind no matter what you say.”

She held up her hands, gesturing surrender.

“Just answer me this,” she said. “Do you only enjoy his presence when it’s a moment of desire?”

You pulled your brows together.

“I um…” you trailed off. “I like his presence in other times as well, not just then.”

She tilted her head, watching you in silence as you sat up straighter, fixing your hair.

“Benedict is interesting,” you ended up saying. “I do not get bored at all when he is around, and being around him makes me feel—”

Happy.

Being around him made you feel happy. It was almost easy to slip into that warm, fuzzy comfort and finding yourself smiling even if you tried your hardest to focus on what could happen at any moment.

But it just meant that desire you felt for him was clouding your judgement, and you knew you couldn’t let that happen.

“I want him to be around me,” you said and Josie’s lips pulled into a sly smile.

“I see,” she said after a beat. “And when do I get to meet this infamous betrothed of yours?”

“Whenever you want,” you said. “Lottie said they’re all going to have a picnic by the park so we can go as well if you’d like?”

“Lottie?”

“My best friend.”

“You’ve made a friend?” Josie asked and your jaw dropped.

“Why do you sound so shocked?”

“You’re not very friendly.”

“And you are?”

Josie shrugged her shoulders. “No but I can hide it,” she said. “Unlike you.”

“Fair,” you said. “She was Benedict’s friend first by the way. Then she decided we would be friends and I kind of followed her lead.”

She let out a laugh and stood up, then pulled you up by the hand and threw an arm over your shoulder.

“Come on then,” she said. “Let’s go meet Bess and Andrew first, then we can all go by the park.”

                                           *

Even though it had been years since you had last talked to Bess and Andrew, it still felt like yesterday. You had always liked them, and Andrew’s marriage to Josie was the perfect arrangement for all parties involved. Bess was Andrew’s cousin and the love of Josie’s life, and Andrew only desired gentlemen and not ladies, so the marriage was a formality that worked out for all of them.

You were sure the ton would be clueless to the reality behind closed doors.

It had taken you almost two hours to catch up with what had happened while they were in Spain, and after that you all had decided to go by the park. As Lottie said, she and her family were there and though there was no sign of Bridgertons yet, Lottie had told you they would be there soon.

It came as a surprise to no one that about five minutes after they had met Lottie, they were all smitten by her. Even Josie who was always politely distant with everyone seemed to love her and had assured her that she wasn’t even interested in being a bridesmaid let alone the maid of honor. Soon enough though, her mother had called her to keep an eye on her siblings so she had to leave you four there, promising she would be back soon.

“You know, I have to admit I did miss here a bit,” Andrew said as he laid on his back, looking up at the sky with his hands neatly folded over his stomach. “Spain is nice and all, but there’s no place like home.”  

Bess tilted her head.

“You hate the ton.”

“Don’t we all?” he asked and you held up your hand.

“I’m right with you on that.”

“Thank you, my dear sister-in-law,” Andrew said with a smile. “You’re getting married at a perfect time by the way. I needed to get away from my former lover.”

“Was it that bad?” you asked and Josie scoffed.

“It was very explosive.”

“No it wasn’t!”

“Yes it was!” Josie and Bess said at the same time and Andrew rolled his eyes.

“You challenge someone to a duel one time during a lovers’ quarrel and all of a sudden your whole liaison is explosive, unbelievable…” he grumbled as he sat up and Bess repressed a laugh.

“How about you Y/N?” she asked. “What of your betrothal? Tell us more about him, we barely know anything!”

“Oh he’s—” you started but as soon as the sight of Benedict caught your eye, you stopped talking. “That’s him.”

Andrew and Bess followed your line of sight while Josie looked over her shoulder and turned around, and Andrew raised his brows as if he was impressed.

“There is the answer to your question Jo,” he told Josie. “You were wondering why Clover changed her mind about marriage right? It’s because he looks like that.”

You gently kicked at his foot. “Shut it.”

“He looks like that and he’s an artist?” Bess asked and you nodded, trying to ignore the warmth of pride in your chest.

“Mm hm.”

“Well done,” Andrew winked at you and Josie clicked her tongue.

“Now our earlier conversation makes sense,” she said. “You really are a cliché.”

“Josie!” Bess scolded her lightheartedly. “Don’t listen to her, please. We’re all very happy for you!”

“I’ll uh—I’ll get him here,” you said as you stood up, then made your way to Benedict who was talking with Colin while Anthony made his way to Charlotte to greet her.

“Y/N,” Benedict said, a smile warming his handsome face and you cleared your throat.

“Hello,” you said. “I need to borrow you for a moment.”

“Sure, why?”

“To meet my family,” you said and motioned between you. “Since, well—since we’re getting married, it’s kind of necessary.”

Benedict tilted his head. “I already met your family?”

“Some of them yes,” you said, snapping your fingers. “But my sister is back.”

Benedict’s eyes widened. “Oh? Of course, I’d love to meet her.”

“She’s over there with her husband and her…best friend,” you pointed back with your thumb and both Benedict and Colin followed your line of sight to see Andrew waving at them while Josie narrowed her eyes into a glare.

“Is she nice or is she more like you?” Colin asked and you gasped in a rather exaggerated manner.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Colin,” Benedict warned through his teeth and he shrugged.

“What?” he asked and motioned at you. “We’re going to be family, should I lie to family?”

You curled your lips. “Now that you mention it, I have always been the nice one between the two of us.”

Benedict gawked at you in silence for a couple of seconds, then took a deep breath.

“Oh this is how I die then,” he said and turned to Colin. “Promise me you will make sure people see my paintings after my death.”

“Sure but I’ll put my name under those paintings.”

“Do you want to join us?” you asked Colin and he shook his head.

“As much as I’d love to watch this, I promised Pen I would find her,” he said and slapped Benedict on the back. “You’ve had a good life brother.”

“And apparently a very short one,” Benedict deadpanned as Colin walked away and you shot him a lighthearted glare, trying to repress your laugh.

“I’ll make sure Colin doesn’t write his name under your works if you do die,” you pointed out and Benedict nodded his head.

“Much obliged—you were jesting, were you not?” he asked. “About you being the nice one?”

“Not at all,” you said. “Josie can seem a bit intimidating sometimes.”

“Does she have a knife as well?”

“Yes, the knife is hereditary.”

He tilted his head to the side. “You realize that in order for you to be a widow we have to be married first?”

You pursed your lips, still trying to control the laughter threatening to climb up your throat.

“I thought artists liked suffering,” you said. “Everyone keeps saying that makes your art better."

“I wouldn’t call myself a fully artist yet.”

“I would,” you said and a small smile warmed his face before he cleared his throat.

“Do you have any tips on how to charm her to get her approval?”

“Her approval barely makes any difference, we’re already engaged,” you said. “Besides you could charm a goddamn rock apparently, you’ll be fine.”

He repressed a proud grin.

“Well it’s still important,” he said, stealing another look at her. “Especially since it looks like she doesn’t like me already.”

“What, a glare? That’s nothing,” you said with a scoff. “Trust me, you’ll know if she doesn’t like you.”

He let out a noise of disagreement. “I won’t if she’s anything like you.”

You pulled your brows together. “I think people can tell whether I like them or not.”

“Not at all,” he said. “Half of the time I can’t tell whether you want to kiss me or kill me.”

Your heart skipped a beat but you forced yourself to roll your eyes, then started walking in Josie’s direction. He caught up with you almost effortlessly and you tried to ignore how your face was burning.

“See?”

“Shut up.”

“This is exactly what I was talking about—”

“She doesn’t know by the way,” you cut him off, desperate to change the subject. “The details of our…engagement.”

He raised his brows. “You didn’t tell her?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because if I did, Josie would certainly find a way to stop that wedding,” you pointed out. “And I’m not going to put my aunt and uncle through that.”

Benedict looked like he wanted to say something but you had already reached the tree under which Josie, Andrew and Bess were sitting under and they all stood up when you got there

“Everyone, this is Benedict Bridgerton; my betrothed,” you told them. “Benedict, this is Josie; my sister. Lord Andrew Walcott, her husband and that’s Bess Hadfield, Andrew’s cousin and Josie’s best friend.”

“I’m honored.”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Bess said and Andrew elbowed Josie so that she could stop glaring at Benedict before offering his hand, and Benedict shook it.

“Call me Andrew,” Andrew told him. “So you’re the man who made the impossible happen and got Y/N to fall in love?”

Benedict smiled softly and nodded. “It was a surprise for me too.”

“Me as well,” you deadpanned and Josie clicked her tongue.

“I’ve heard you’re an artist, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Oh I wouldn’t call myself an actual artist yet—”

“People call you that,” Josie tilted her head. “Are they dishonest or are you just being humble?”

“Josie,” you said warningly and she shrugged her shoulders.

“What? I’m trying to get to know my future brother-in-law.”

“We will have all the time in the world to do it after the wedding,” Bess said in a haste before you could retort. “I can’t wait. So, have you two decided on where you will go on your honeymoon? Josie and Andrew went to France and I—they liked it a lot.”

“France is a great option.”

“We’ll stay here,” you and Benedict said at the same time and Andrew pulled his brows together. Josie crossed her arms, her whole focus on you and you felt your heart dropping to your stomach before you cleared your throat.

“We actually haven’t talked about it because of the excitement of the wedding, excuse us for just one moment,” you said and grabbed Benedict by the arm, then led him away from them even though you could feel their -and other people’s- eyes following your every move so you remembered to smile up at him.

“You want to stay here?” Benedict asked and you nodded.

“Uh huh.”

“You don’t want to go to France? Italy? Anywhere?”

You scoffed and shook your head. “I’d rather if we didn’t leave the country.”

“The countryside then?” Benedict suggested. “And that way you’d see the house as well, I can just write a letter to the staff there—”

“No,” the word left your lips as you felt the fear churning your stomach at the idea of being in a remote place with him alone. You knew he had promised you that nothing you didn’t want would take place in your wedding night or honeymoon but you still—

You still didn’t know whether he would change his mind or not.

“It’s just that I promised Teddy I wouldn’t disappear after the wedding just like Josie did,” you said in a haste. “And the season has just begun and it’s my first one so I’d like to see it through. Besides I’m pretty sure Duke Hastings will propose to Daphne soon so we cannot miss that, she’s your sister so it’s not like you can ride into sunset either. We should stay.”

Benedict’s brows furrowed.

“Oh,” he said. “London then?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I mean it’s not like we will see each other that often in the house either,” you said. “So it’s really not going to make any difference if we’re here or anywhere else.”

A sad light crossed Benedict’s gaze but it was gone as soon as it came.

“…Right,” he said. “I guess not.”

“And then you know, once the dust is settled you can visit France or Italy or wherever it is that you want,” you added quickly. “I’d still convince people that we’re in love, no worries.”

“Or you could come with me?” he offered. “Once the dust is settled?”

The idea felt tempting only for a moment before the fear hit you again, so you shook your head.

“I don’t think so,” you said and snapped your fingers. “But you could take Madame Delacroix with you? Or anyone else who you…have an arrangement with. I wouldn’t mind as long as it’s kept a secret from the ton.”

To be completely honest, even the thought of it was enough to bother you. Though you were quite certain you didn’t want to be alone with him in case he changed his mind about how your marriage would go, that bitter taste at the back of your throat was back upon imagining him with Madame Delacroix or anyone else for that matter.

Him kissing her, or—

No.

You were not going to do that to yourself.

A painful smile curled Benedict’s lips at your suggestion and he took a deep breath, then swallowed thickly.

“Yeah, who knows?” he said. “Let’s just get through this first, right? The wedding is next week and I’m sure your family has a lot of questions.”

Next week.

Right.

You nibbled on your lip, a nervous lump growing bigger and bigger in your throat but you managed to smile.

“Yeah,” you said and clicked your tongue. “Let’s pretend to be lovesick then.”

Chapter 14

[kanerlove88]

I am always thinking about post-canon RoyJamie. Roy moves out of his own way. All that work they put into becoming better people and becoming friends works out so well. They’re beautiful together, Roy and Jamie. Incredibly codependent and god, they’ll live under each other’s skin if they could but boy do they make it work. It baffles everyone around them but they don’t even realise it’s not normal to spend that much time around your partner. Freak4freak but very much in love about it.

They’re not perfect of course. They fight like any couple would. Probably more than most couple even. Neither of them are easy individuals. They both learned to hurt each other long before they ever fell in love and it shows sometimes. But they learn to give each other space, to take a breather when they’re furious. This understanding comes with time and a lot of therapy of course. They weren’t always so good at that but they learn to be patient with each other.

Even if talking about feelings always feels like pulling teeth, they force themselves to do it. It’ll never come naturally to them but it does become easier over time.

Anything they can’t solve themselves, they go to therapy for. They go to couples therapy because you don’t only need help when your relationship is falling apart. You’re gonna need help along the way and they know not to take that for granted. Both of them still see Dr Sharon individually too. They’re better off for it.

Jamie loves Phoebe. They get along like house on fire and it makes Roy so happy, to see his favourite people get along this way. It doesn’t take long before Jamie becomes Uncle Jamie. The next Uncle’s Day, Phoebe has two Uncles to celebrate and she tackles it with gusto. Jamie definitely will cry a little about it. That boy staring at his Roy Kent poster in his childhood bedroom could have never known that one day he’ll have all the love he could have ever asked for and it’d come from Roy Kent himself.

They’re it for each other, that much they both know. Roy worries, of course he worries. A 15 year age gap looks like a lot when you’re 40 and your partner is 25. Worries he’s too old for Jamie, that he’ll hold him back. He’s 40 and all he wants to do is stay at home and read a book cuddled up with Jamie but would Jamie want that too or would he be giving up nights out at clubs for him?

Jamie, who used to wake up at 4am to train with Roy. Jamie, who is very much aware of the age gap and has definitely thought about what it’ll be like as they both grow older. Jamie who would live in Roy’s ribcage if he could. Jamie who will choose Roy no matter what. Roy will understand soon enough. And what do you know? A 15 year age gap doesn’t look too bad when you’re 85 and your partner is 70.

Their wedding is beautiful. 2 years, maybe 3 years after getting together. Roy proposed but Jamie had a ring too. When they get married, every greyhound who has ever played under Ted will descend onto London, Ted included. It began with Roy and Jamie in the locker room, touching foreheads in anger and it ends with Roy and Jamie at the altar, touching foreheads, so in love with each other. Husbands. What a beautiful life they will live together.

[mynameismckenziemae]

In Case You Didn’t Know

Part 5

(previous part here, next part here)

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x You

Summary: Jake takes you on the date he wishes he would’ve all those years ago.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, oral (m receiving), etc.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

Jake’s phone vibrates on his nightstand as he gets into bed.

🐓: So? Did you talk? Was I right?

Jake: Yeah we talked.

🐓: And?

Jake: …you were right.

🐓: HELL YEAH! I fucking knew it! You could cut the tension between you two with a knife. Did you…you know 😏

Jake: I want to take her out on date first.

🐓: Where are you gonna take her?

Jake: I don’t know, kind of limited with the leg. I just want it to be special.

🐓: Where did you take girls for dates in high school? Do that with her.

Jake: We’d pick up food at the local car hop, park somewhere to eat then fool around in my truck bed.

🐓: Sounds…great?

Jake: 🖕🏻there wasn’t much to do for teenagers around here back then. But honestly, I think Charlie would love it. I’d have to ask my sister for my truck back though. She takes care of it while I’m gone for me.

🐓: Emma? She’s a 10 🥵

Jake: No.

🐓: She single yet?

Jake: She’s not interested.

🐓: So she is single.

Jake: I’m going to bed.

🐓: You realize I’m going to meet her at your wedding, right? You’re just putting off the inevitable.

Jake: Goodnight Bradshaw.

Jake smirks at the thought. Bradshaw probably thinks Jake’s just being a protective older brother but it’s just the opposite. Emma looks like a sweet southern belle but she would eat him alive.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

He hesitates before biting the bullet and texting Emma; he’s always been a little scared of her.

Jake: Hey Emma Lou.

Emma: Hey! When did you make landfall? Everything go okay?

Jake: Almost 2 weeks, and not really. I was hit on the way back to the carrier and had to eject. I broke my leg and got a little beat up on the way down. I left the hospital forgetting Ma and Dad are gone so I’m staying with Charlie. They don’t know yet, please keep it that way. You know how much this trip means to them. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, my head was a little messed up and just didn’t want you to worry or take time off from that new job.

Emma: WTF!?!?? That’s fucking bullshit, Jake. I’m a large animal vet with 2 partners that are happy to cover for me. I wouldn’t have had an issue getting off of work and you know it.

Jake: I do know. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight.

Emma: No shit.

Emma: Are you okay?

Jake: Getting there. Charlie’s been doing my PT, I saw ortho and that’s healing okay. I have a video visit with a therapist tomorrow.

Emma: Therapist?

Jake: Diagnosed me with PTSD after the accident. I’m feeling better already but if I don’t go to therapy they’ll ground me longer.

Emma: The Navy grounding you will be the least of your worries once Mom finds out. I’m not gonna be the one telling her.

Jake: Thanks. I really am sorry. Any chance you’re coming this way in the next few days? I need the truck if you don’t.

Emma: How are you gonna drive it? Not sure how bad you hit your head but you need 2 feet for a manual.

Jake: I’m not, Charlie’s going to.

Emma: Did she get new furniture and not tell me?

Jake: No…it’s a lot to text. I’d rather tell you in person.

Emma: I’ve got a sick heifer to see in the morning but otherwise I’m free. I’ll be there around 11. I think Lee’s got a vet call in the area around 2 so I’ll see if he’ll take me back home so you can keep the truck.

Jake: Sounds good. Love you.

Emma: I’m still mad, but I love you too.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

Jake’s up before you and has a cup of coffee waiting as you stumble into the kitchen with a yawn.

“Don’t make plans tonight. I’ve got something in mind,” he says, leaning on his good leg before pulling you into his chest.

“Mmkay,” you yawn, snuggling into his chest like you’ve always wanted to with his hugs. “Can’t wait.”

“I told Emma last night, she’s going to come over around 11 so we can talk,” Jake cringes.

“Will she be gone by the time I get back?” You joke, all too familiar with her temper.

“Why? You scared?” He teases.

“Yes. I know you are too,” you laugh.

You let him hold you for a few minutes, both enjoying the intimacy.

“I’d ask you to join me in the shower but that’s an accident waiting to happen,” you smile, pulling away from his chest to press a kiss to his lips.

His eyes fall closed at your words. “Soon enough.”

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

Jake stares at your butt in your scrubs from the porch as you walk to your car. You catch him looking as you open the door and quirk a brow at his sheepish grin.

“Can’t figure out if you’re wearing underwear, I didn’t see any panty lines.”

“You don’t get panty lines if you wear a thong,” you wink as you get in, laughing at the way his eyes widen.

You’re normally a no-show underwear kind of girl, but you felt like wearing something sexy today when Jake said he had plans.

You give him a little wave as you head to work.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

Jake had just finished his virtual visit with the therapist when Emma pulls up in his grandpa’s old Chevy that he and his dad fixed up together.

Emma gives him a bone-crushing hug before smacking him upside the head.

“Ow,” Jake grumbles, rubbing the spot she hit him.

“You deserve a lot more than that. You’re lucky you’re injured,” Emma says before bending down to greet Cash.

“So why does Charlie need the truck?” Emma asks, throwing Cash’s ball.

“She doesn’t. I’m taking her out tonight. Well, she’s driving but I’m planning it.”

“Taking her out where? Why do you need the truck for that?”

“Ray’s and then up to Breakneck Hill,” he responds, not looking at her.

“Isn’t that where you used take your dates to park?”

“Yep.”

It takes her a minute to catch on, but she jumps to her feet with a whoop when she does.

“Seriously?!” She laughs, “Man, it’s about fucking time.”

He looks at her puzzledly.

“You’ve been in love with each other for years,” she sighs. “That’s a great idea though. I just washed ‘er so the bed is clean. Want me to throw some blankets back there for you?”

“I didn’t think that far, but yeah, that’s a good idea.”

20 minutes later, Emma’s got the back of the truck filled with blankets and pillows, a perfect place to eat and watch the sunset.

“Perfect! Now you have a place to stretch out and bang. Do you need condoms? Wait no, forget them. I’m ready to be an auntie,” Emma says as she steps back to look.

“Uh, no. We haven’t-I mean, we aren’t-“ Jake stutters, flushing bright red.

“I’m kidding, Jesus. Don’t stroke out on me. Got anything for lunch?” Emma laughs, patting Jake on the shoulder, right where he’s bruised.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

Emma wraps his cast and stays nearby just in case he falls while he showers.

“Lee’s almost here,” Emma says, giving Jake another hug. “Let me know how it goes. And tell Charlie I’m not mad at her, just you.”

Jake rolls his eyes but hugs her back. “Will do. Thanks, Em, love ya.”

“Love you too, don’t forget to forget the condoms!” She replies as she heads out the door.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

You smile when you see Jake’s old truck in the driveway, wondering what he’s up to.

Jake’s asleep on the couch when you get inside, but he wakes up when you close the door.

“Oh hey, sorry I must’ve fallen asleep after Emma left,” he yawns.

“Let me change and I’ll be ready to go,” you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek and slipping off your top as you walk down the hall.

Jake sgets down the stairs and hobbles along to the driver's side of the truck, awkwardly opening the door for you.

“You want me to drive? I don’t think I’ve driven it since you got too wasted to drive at Clay Williams's graduation party,” you laugh, climbing up.

“Ugh, I can’t even smell Jäegermeister without gagging,” Jake shivers as he closes the door.

You lean over and open the passenger side, taking the crutches he hands over. He surprises you with how easily manages to get in with one leg.

“Where to?” You ask, pushing in the clutch and starting the truck.

“Ray’s,” he answers with a smile.

“Then to Breakneck to fool around?” You guess, wiggling your brows.

He nods. “Only if you want to, we don’t-“

“I want to. I’ve always wanted to,” you reply, leaving out how jealous you’d get when he’d take girls out there.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

An hour later you’re sharing a chocolate milkshake in the back of the truck. It’s just the two of you in the empty lot.

“I wonder what my mom would think of us being together,” you say as you watch the sunset. The sky is a beautiful canvas of pinks, oranges, and reds.

“I think she’d like it,” he replies.

A flicker of movement catches your eye and you hold your breath when a butterfly lands on the hand that’s holding yours. It rests for just a moment, slowly flapping its orange wings before flying away.

“Me too,” you whisper.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

“So what’s next? We ate our burgers, shared the milkshake, and watched the sunset. Is it a dry handjob while you rub me through my underwear for 10 seconds then ask if I came?”

“How’d you know?” He teases, leaning in for a kiss.

He kisses you slowly and lazily, committing every sigh to memory. As his tongue flicks yours you can’t help but imagine it elsewhere.

You soon grow impatient and find yourself straddling his lap again.

“Jake, touch me. Please?” You pant.

“‘Course sweetheart. Here?” He asks, pulling the top of your sundress down, exposing your braless chest to him. “Damn, Charlie,” he rasps, looking over your breasts hungrily before sucking a hardened bud into his mouth. His fingers come up to pay attention to the neglected side and he alternates; biting, sucking, and pinching you into a frenzy.

You find his free hand and bring it under your dress, running his fingers over the soaked material of your thong. He shudders when he feels the evidence of what he’s doing to you.

Before his fingers even touch you without the barrier of your underwear, you cry out, your fingers in his hair pull; your orgasm taking you both by surprise.

“Did you cum?” He chuckles breathlessly against your chest as you come down.

“I did,” you smirk, trying to catch your breath too as you climb off him, then unbuttoning his jeans. “Your turn, but I want to get my mouth on you.”

Your eyes widen as you pull him out. “Jesus. Not sure if you’ll fit, but I’m gonna try.”

“That’s not…I didn’t know that was an option-oh fuckkkk,” he gasps when you pull his tip into your mouth.

Your eyes drift closed and you moan at the salty taste of his precum. More you think as you swallow and suck more of him into your mouth, using your hands to stroke his base.

He’s making the hottest, most desperate sounds as his chest heaves. It hasn’t even been a minute before he’s warning you. “Char-Charlie, wait sweetheart. I’m gonna cum,” He pants, gently tugging at your hair to pull you off.

But you shake your head and moan; you want to taste it.

“Oh…oh God,” he whimpers as he finishes in your mouth, jolting when he feels you swallow his spend.

You pull up the top of your dress after you release it from your mouth and gently tuck him back into his jeans. He surprises you when he pulls you up for a deep kiss, groaning when he tastes himself on your tongue.

“You’re…that was…holy shit,” Jake chuckles. “So much better than a dry handjob.”

You laugh before pulling him back in for a kiss.

You’re so wrapped up in each other that you don’t notice the squad car pulling into the lot.

The smug voice of the local police officer over the megaphone has you jumping apart.

“Keep it in your pants ‘til you get home, Seresin. Don’t make me call your mama.”

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

A/N: First date ✅

As always, any interaction is appreciated but I love hearing what you think in comments/reblogs.

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