#just go straight to the chapel and get married already | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

munson-blurbs · 1 year

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hiii i've gone through your whole masterlist and i'm obsessed with your works <333 an idea popped into my head and i just know you'll be able to bring it to justice because you're so talented hehe would you be down to write a friends to lovers fic about grooms man!eddie x bridesmaid!reader, like maybe it's nancy and steve's wedding, and everyone in the party just teases them like "oh so are you guys gonna be the next ones to get married" just so they'll admit their feelings to each othee once and for all hahaha sorry if it's too specific! love you <333

Eep this was so fun!

Warnings: some angst, language

WC: 2.6k

Divider credit to @firefly-graphics

“There we go.” You gently weave the clip of Nancy’s veil into her hair, fluffing the tulle so it brushes her shoulders. “Nance, you look stunning.” Her curly hair is perfectly coiffed, falling in soft waves. Her dress is classic and elegant; an off-the-shoulder bodice with a full skirt. Even her makeup is perfect, with eyeshadow shimmering on her lids, lips painted a soft baby pink.

“Seriously,” Robin agrees as she hands the rest of the bridesmaids their bouquets. “Steve is gonna lose his mind when he sees you walk down that aisle.”

Max pipes up from behind her. “I’ve started taking bets on how long it’ll take him to start blubbering.”

“Personally, I think it’ll be as soon as he hears the music,” Holly adds, smirking. This makes everyone giggle, and no one can disagree.

Once the laughter dies down, Nancy beams, looking at her bridal party. “I can’t thank you girls enough for everything you’ve done to make this day so special.” Her voice breaks on the last word, and maid of honor Robin dashes over with a tissue.

“Don’t cry! You’ll smudge your makeup!” she warns, contorting her face at her own words. “God, I sound like such a priss!”

“Yeah, but you’re my priss,” Nancy teases, carefully dabbing at the corners of her eyes. She turns to you with a smile. “Y/N, could you go see if the guys are ready? I have this fear that one of them is gonna show up missing a tie or a shoe or something.”

“I’m also taking bets on that,” Max calls out. “My money’s on Mike.”

You take Nancy’s hand and give it a little squeeze. “No problem. I’ll make sure everyone is fully dressed.”

She thanks you and pulls you in for a hug. “I’m so glad the gods of dorm assignments made us roommates,” she says as she lets you go. It seems like ages ago that you’d lugged your suitcases into the tiny dorm room your freshman year of college, greeted by the shy girl with big dreams of being a New York Times editor. The two of you had become fast friends, writing papers and cramming for exams together. After college, both of you had landed jobs at The Indianapolis Star, and the shared experience of being women in journalism had only brought you closer.

It had also brought you closer to Nancy’s friends from high school, many of whom were in the wedding party.

You rap on the door to the groom’s suite three times. “Is everyone decent?” you ask, pushing open the door slightly.

“10-4, we’re good to go!” Dustin’s voice calls back. He’s been taking his best man duties seriously–perhaps too seriously–since Steve first asked him to take on the role. You walk into the room and squeal with excitement at the guys in their tuxedos.

“You all look so handsome!” you gush. “Just wait until you see your bride, Steve. She looks even more beautiful than usual.”

Steve smiles, already blinking back tears. You’ll have to report back to Max that he didn’t even make it to the chapel before crying.

A clamoring comes from inside the restroom. “Stupid tie; won’t stay straight!” Eddie Munson grumbles, flinging open the door in frustration. “Does anyone here know how to–whoa.” He stops mid-sentence when he notices you in your lilac dress, accessory woes all but forgotten.

“Need some help?” you offer politely, trying to calm your nerves at the prospect of being so close to him. Eddie just nods, and you pray that he doesn’t notice your trembling fingers as you adjust his tie. “There; now it’s perfect.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles. “You, um, you look really…wow.” He blushes as he trips over his words. He’d been shy around you ever since you’d moved to Indiana after college two years earlier, but he’s never been this tongue-tied. Probably just nervous about the wedding, you think, shrugging it off.

“Good wow, I hope,” you tease, finding yourself unable to make eye contact with him. His gray suit is fitted to his body and his usually unruly hair is pulled back into a low bun. If it wasn’t for the signature rings adorning his fingers, the D20 cufflinks, and the guitar pick necklace peeking out from under his shirt, you might not even recognize him.

“Y-yeah, of course!” He rushes, shoving his hands in his pockets.

You blush at the compliment. “Well, you look very wow, yourself.” He looks more than wow; he’s downright gorgeous, but you can’t bring yourself to say it. Especially in front of a crowd.

“Okay, lovebirds, save it for your own wedding,” Dustin jeers with a roll of his eyes. “We gotta start lining up.” He reads out the pairs:Mike with Holly, Lucas with Max…and Eddie with you.

You loop your arm through Eddie’s, waiting your turn to walk down the aisle. Steve and Dustin are already at the altar; the former has tears streaming down his cheeks, and Nancy hasn’t even started walking with her father yet.

“He’s such a mess,” Eddie whispers to you, making you laugh.

“Careful,” you warn jokingly, “you might be the same way at your wedding.” Your heart skips a beat when you imagine him in Steve’s spot; only instead of Nancy, you’re the bride.

You and Eddie part once you make your way to the front of the chapel; he takes his place next to Mike and you take yours alongside Holly. Everyone stands when Nancy enters, and you find yourself nearly as emotional as Steve. Her eyes are glued to her groom, and she can’t seem to stop smiling.

Your gaze briefly shifts to the groomsmen, and you’re taken aback when you realize Eddie’s looking back at you. He notices the tears brimming in your eyes and quickly pokes his tongue between his lips to make you laugh. You mirror his action and he grins, looking down at the ground before he gets caught causing mischief.

The ceremony is simple and sweet, with Nancy and Steve reading handwritten vows. After promising to love and cherish one another forever, the minister pronounces them husband and wife, and all the guests burst into applause.

Steve places a deep, passionate kiss on his new wife’s lips, and the recessional starts. You hook your arm around Eddie’s once more and head to the cocktail hour.

Nancy grabs you as soon as you enter the sunlit room. “Can you help me with my bustle?” she asks sheepishly. “This dress feels like it weighs a hundred pounds!”

You nod emphatically, ignoring your growling stomach. You really worked up an appetite being a bridesmaid. “Of course, Mrs. Harrington,” you say with a smile.

You’re kneeling on the ground of the bridal suite, determined to hook the loop around the buttons dotting the back of Nancy’s dress, when you hear a knock on the door.

“Special delivery!” Eddie’s voice alone makes you blush. Nancy, always astute, catches your pink cheeks in the mirror and makes kissy faces. You swat at her playfully.

“Come in, we’re decent!” you call back, and he enters with a plate of hors d'oeuvres.

He extends the plate out between the two of you. “Figured you ladies might be hungry,” he says. Nancy grabs a mini quiche, but you don’t want to get grease on your hands while touching her pristine white dress.

“You can just leave the plate there,” you tell him politely, jutting your head toward a nearby table. “I’ll have some when I’m done with this.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nuh-uh. Max told me you’ve barely eaten anything all day, and I’m not waiting for you to faint. Really cuts into our dancing time if you’re unconscious, y’know?” He pinches a mushroom cap between two fingers and motions to your mouth. “How’s it?”

“Delicious,” you report. “Hit me with another.”

He laughs and obliges. This time, his fingers gently graze your lips, and you have to stop yourself from visibly shivering.

“Thank you,” you say softly, retreating into yourself after the accidentally intimate moment.

“Not a problem,” Eddie replies, unfazed by the ordeal. “Anything else I can help with?”

“I think we’re good here!” You finish fastening the bustle triumphantly, and Nancy breathes a sigh of relief now that she no longer has to drag the long train.

Eddie nods and steals a bacon-wrapped scallop from the plate. “I’ll see you two out there, then,” he says, but he’s only looking at you.

With Eddie safely on the other side of the door, Nancy looks at you with her arms folded across her bodice. “Now do you believe us when we say he’s in love with you?”

You bark out a laugh. “Because he brought a plate of food? It was for you, too. Is he also harboring a secret crush on you?”

“He didn’t feed it to me,” she shrugs, giving a knowing smirk. “And he didn’t mention dancing with me, either. Only you. And the way he looks at you? Come on, Y/N.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you mutter. “Let’s just get you to your husband.” You can’t let yourself develop stronger feelings towards Eddie. You’ve been through this before–everyone convinces you that a guy likes you, you let yourself get attached, and then your heart gets broken when he inevitably starts dating someone else or says he only sees you as a friend. No, that can’t happen again.

The band plays song after song as you and your friends dance the night away. Robin, four shots of tequila deep, starts a conga line to Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance with Somebody.” Between the endless barrage of photo taking and the sheer happiness radiating through you, your cheeks hurt from smiling.

Eddie’s among the group of you on the dance floor, laughing and moving along to the beat. This is probably what he meant by ‘our dancing time,’ you think; to your dismay, you’re disappointed by this realization. You could, in theory, ask him to dance to a slow song–it is 1992, after all–but you can’t stomach the idea of him rejecting you. Or worse–taking pity on you.

“Having fun?” Max shouts over the music, and you give her a thumbs-up. “How about you?” she asks Eddie, who’s sulking now that the band is playing some overdone Madonna song.

“Would be better if we could get these guys to do some Metallica or Black Sabbath,” he jokes, although you suspect there’s some truth to his statement.

Max rolls her eyes and says, “Don’t worry; you can have a metal band play when you and Y/N get married.” Your eyes widen at her brazenness, and you try your best to be inconspicuous as you shuffle back to your seat.

“Y/N!” Max calls after you. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” Her cheeks are flushed, though it may be from the drinking and dancing.

“‘S not just that,” you mumble, slumping into your seat. “Sure, it’s embarrassing; but it’s also…I don’t wanna get my hopes up.”

“Get your hopes up?”

“Yeah, get my hopes up that…that he feels the same way about me.” You feel your voice warble, and you take a deep breath to quell your emotions.

“Are you kidding?” Max asks incredulously. “Eddie is pathetically obsessed with you; it’s so obvious.”

“Then why hasn’t he asked me out? We’ve known each other for two years, Max. Two years. And he can make me feel like the most special person in the world, but he never makes a move.”

Max is uncharacteristically quiet for a moment, chewing on a painted fingernail. “You didn’t know Eddie back in high school,” she starts, “but he’s basically spent his entire life being rejected, especially by girls.” She sits down next to you and rests her palm on your knee. “He asked this one girl to prom–a cheerleader–because he thought she was into him. And maybe she was, I don’t know. But her ex-boyfriend ‘won her back’ the day before they were supposed to go together, and she left Eddie in the dust.”

“That’s…that’s terrible,” you manage, a bitter taste settling on your tongue. “I had no idea…”

“He’s told us a hundred times that he wants to ask you out. He has all these plans: dinner and a movie, or a concert; one time, he even thought of taking you to a cooking class because you mentioned how you went to one in college and really liked it.” She snorts at the idea of Eddie using a stove without burning the place to the ground. “But every time, he second guesses himself and chickens out. And every time, we give him shit for it.”

“So what do I do?” You gnaw at your bottom lip anxiously, looking at her through your lashes.

Max pauses, considering her options. “Wait here,” she says finally, bolting from the table and making a beeline to Lucas and Dustin. She whispers something to them, and they nod in unison. You watch as Dustin sprints outside, where Eddie is smoking a cigarette. Lucas talks to the band, who is in between songs. They’re nodding their heads and discussing something, and Lucas looks satisfied when he hops down from the stage.

Your pout softens when you hear the opening notes of “Nothing Else Matters” by Metallica. You glance over at Eddie, who is making his way towards you with a shy smile on his face. When he gets to your seat, he extends his hand.

“Can I have this dance?” he asks. You can see in his eyes that he’s nervous, maybe even more so than you.

“Of course you can,” you reply, taking his hand and joining him on the dance floor. You drape your left hand over his shoulder and his places his on your waist as the two of you sway to the music.

“It’s come to my attention that I’m an idiot,” he hums in your ear. “And that there’s someone really, really important to me that I’ve been hurting, and I didn’t even know it.”

You shake your head, hair tickling his face. “‘S not your fault,” you tell him. “I could’ve said something, too.”

“That is very true,” he teases, twirling you gently. “Maybe we can be idiots together?”

“I’d think we’d better, considering everyone’s already started planning our wedding,” you joke back. “Although I’d prefer to start with a date.”

Eddie holds you closer, pressing a light kiss to your nose. “I think that can be arranged.”

The two of you dance in comfortable silence, just holding one another. You rest your head on his chest, breathing in the scent of musky cologne and cigarettes. You feel so safe, so loved, with his strong hand holding the small of your back. “Hey, Eddie?” you murmur.

“Mhm?”

You shift your body slightly so you can look at him. His dark brown eyes are focused on you and you alone. He runs his tongue along his lower lip, and his jaw twitches slightly with nerves.

With all of the courage you can muster, you lean in and kiss him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He pulls you impossibly closer, resting a hand on your cheek and caressing it with his thumb.

“Can’t believe I waited this long to do that,” he muses. “I really am an idiot.”

“I don’t know what’s more unbelievable: Eddie Munson kissing me, or Eddie Munson in a tux.” You laugh and kiss him again.

“Well, you’d better get used to the first one,” he says with a smirk. “But the second one isn’t happening again until our wedding.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie x you #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #requests

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mousy-nona · 2 months

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Two's Company (Three's a Crowd)

In which Lilith makes Lucifer an offer he finds hard to refuse, and Alastor has to figure out just how far he'll go to keep him.

Or, Alastor deals with Feelings, breaks into the Sistine Chapel, and causes an international (inter-Ring?) crisis.

NOTE: A few mentions of Helluva Boss characters in here. I don't watch the show, so apologies if I got anything wrong!

Alastor knew something was wrong the second Lucifer clumped downstairs. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out; his body language was practically screaming I’m in a bad mood! Comfort me! His face was pale – even paler than usual – and he stumbled into three different doors before finally giving up on the whole ordeal and flopping onto the couch.

With a sigh, he summoned the darkness and willed himself to appear standing over Lucifer, casting a long shadow over his face.

“Why so glum, old chum?”

Lucifer turned even whiter and waved him away, rolling to his side to avoid his gaze. “S’nothing,” he muttered.

Odd. Usually he would bite back. Determined to get some sort of reaction, Alastor hummed and drummed relentlessly on the top of his white top hat. “Let’s see. Why is his Majesty upset today? Another duck explosion?” He paused. Silence. “So no adorable toys were harmed in the making of today’s tragedy. Perhaps something to do with Charlie?”

A flinch this time. He was getting warmer.

“Charlie and the hotel? Charlie and the angels? Charlie and her big break up?”

“What? ” Lucifer bolted straight up, his eyes saucer-big.

“...a break up that never happened, of course. I had to make sure you were still listening!”

He narrowed his eyes. “You are one sadistic asshole, has anyone told you that?”

“Constantly,” Alastor said, his voice deep with pride. “So are you going to tell me what’s on your mind, or am I going to have to make a few more educated guesses of my own?”

Lucifer sighed, rummaged through his pocket, and handed a piece of paper to Alastor. He’d clearly read it a thousand times over – the thing was crumpled, dog-eared, and folded over and over again. The smell of plum blossoms and gunpowder wafted over him as he carefully read the note.

Come up top. Tonight at sunset, the Sistine Chapel. Heaven has an offer for you. You may be able to fly with the angels again. -Kisses, L

“L…” Alastor’s eyes widened. “Lilith?”

Lucifer nodded, draping one arm over his eyes. “Lilith,” he said. His voice was distant, faraway. As if he was already out of Alastor’s reach.

A sharp pain like a gunshot ripped through his chest, so sudden he thought the hunter had come back a hundred years later to finish the job.

“Alastor?” Lucifer was staring at him.

“Yes?”

“What are you doing?”

Alastor glanced down at the couch – where his hand was clamped tightly over Lucifer’s wrist. He hissed and forced himself to let go, staring at his traitor hand in bewilderment.

“Are you going to go?”

“She is my wife, Al,” Lucifer sighed. “And her offer sounds like an interesting one, to say the least.”

His wife. Of course, Alastor had known Lucifer was married. But it was the first time it had seemed like anything more than a running joke. To think there was someone else Lucifer might belong to… He grit his teeth, his claws cutting deep into his palms.

Alastor did not share. Never had.

Especially not with selfish she-demons who abandoned their families at the drop of a hat.

Should have taken better care of your husband, Lilith.

“Are you sure that’s the best idea?” he asked, keeping his voice neutral. “What if it’s a trick?”

“She wouldn’t do such a thing,” Lucifer said, quick to jump to the traitor’s defense. He frowned, as if Alastor was the one in the wrong. “She’s not like that.”

That pain again. Alastor’s hand twitched, half-tempted to rip his heart out and be done with these annoying, needless emotions for good. He’d managed to live a hundred and thirty delightful years without this pain, amusing himself with deals, with blood and bone and screams. Laughing at the trials and tribulations of lesser demons from a distance, where nothing and no one could affect him.

Then Lucifer and this damned hotel had come along. They’d changed…things.

And after all that, Lucifer thought he was going to walk away from all of it? From him?

The shadows roared to life by his side. Reality glitched, light bent, green lightning flashed, trapping the two of them in a dimension of their own. One of his tendrils shot out, intending to cage Lucifer in further, but he missed and smashed through the top of the couch instead.

He missed. He didn’t miss. Ever. What the Hell was going on with him?

Your control is slipping, his shadow whispered delightedly in his ear. What next? Are you going to beg? Go all sappy and tell him you –

“Never,” he whispered.

“Alastor! What the Hell is going on with you?” Lucifer barked, backing away from the gaping hole his tendrils had left behind. Alastor whipped towards him, and Lucifer blanched. “You...are you okay?”

He could see his own crazed eyes, his wild, out-of-control grin reflected back at him in Lucifer’s concern. He took a few deep breaths, getting his voice under control before he said, “I don’t think you should go.”

Lucifer paused, then shook his head. “I have to. I have to know what she wants.”

“Fine.” Alastor snarled, one of his shadow tendrils snapping uncontrollably at the air. One of them crashed into the couch, snapping it in two, and nearly tore the floor in half. “Do as you please.”

Then he called his shadows, and melted away before Lucifer could say another word.

Unwilling to spend another second under the same roof as that sad excuse for a king, Alastor headed to the one place he knew he could find a kindred spirit – Rosie’s.

The second she saw the look on his face, she wheeled out an assortment of her best treats – ladyfingers, blood pudding, buck’s eyes, and ladies’ navels – and poured him a pot of her finest tea.

“What’s the occasion?” Alastor asked.

“Does there need to be an occasion for me to pamper my friend?”

“Rosie,” Alastor said, and she stopped bustling about. His voice sounded tired even to his own ears, scraped clean of his usual boisterous gentlemanly artifice. “What’s the occasion?”

“You look like you need it,” Rosie said, her brow raised as she gave him a significant once-over. “To be honest, sweets, you look like shit.”

“You have such a way with words,” he sighed, plopping down on an empty chair and helping himself to a few buck’s eyes. They squished delightfully between his teeth, but he couldn’t taste anything past the sour disgust in his mouth. Disgust with Lucifer, for running back to Lilith the second she called. Disgust with himself, for caring .

“So what did Lucifer do?”

He nearly spat out the eye, half-chewed cornea and all. “What makes you think–?”

“Sweetheart.” Rosie leaned forward as she popped a ladyfinger into her mouth. “I don’t pretend to know or understand what’s going on between you and Lucifer, but I wasn’t born yesterday. Of course it’s him. You only get that funny little twitch in your eye when he’s involved.”

It was getting worse and worse. Now he was predictable too. The thread of his sanity bent and stretched perilously thin. Like a sailor being pitched this way and that in a storm, he scrabbled for something, anything to hold onto, and eventually managed to calm himself down by thinking of increasingly creative deaths for the angel. No Lucifer, no more pesky feelings. He’d be able to return to his old self. Impenetrable. Cold. Unfeeling.

You know it’s too late for that, his shadow, his honest half, whispered in his ear.

I’ll kill you too, he promised the shadow.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he trilled. His voice was strained, he sounded half mad. “Lucifer is meeting his wife on Earth, that’s all. It sounds like she’s trying to take him back to Heaven.”

Rosie’s cup clattered onto the table and shattered. Shards of glass and Gluttony’s finest tea flew everywhere, but she didn’t even flinch. “Is that possible?”

He shrugged. “You’ll have to ask Lilith.”

“Leaving you here…in Hell.” Understanding dawned over her face.

“Please, Rosie! I’ve done quite well for myself for a hundred years without him, I daresay I’ll go another hundred without sparing him another thought.”

One of his shadow minions tottered over with another cup. She accepted it gratefully, poured herself some more tea, and sipped at it, staring at him over the rim. He steeled himself. Rosie always had something unpleasant to say when she was giving him The Look.

“Alastor, I’ve known you since the day you dropped into Hell. And no matter what this odd place has thrown at you, you’ve cut through it all with a smile. This is no different. It’s another kind of trial, to be sure, but you’ve never run away from something before.” “I am not running away ,” Alastor hissed, annoyed at the mere implication.

“Oh? What would you call this then? Having tea with an old friend while someone else comes in and steals what’s yours?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Why should I care about what Lucifer does?”

She scoffed. “There’s no one else here but you and me, Alastor. You can admit it here.”

“Admit what?” The world glitched and the light flickered, turning red, then green, then yellow. His voice was monstrous, split into four different harmonies and overlaid with heavy static.

Rosie continued on, completely unaffected by his display of power. “You may not love in the same way that the Princess does, but the king has won a special piece of your heart, hasn’t he?”

“I do not lo–”

She cut him off, skewering him with a hard stare. “How long has it taken for you to find him? And do you really think if you lose him, you’ll be able to find someone so important to you ever again?” She laughed and took another calm sip of tea, completely unimpressed by the massive shadow of antlers and teeth bristling in front of her. “I always knew you were destined for great things, but to find a partner in the Morning Star? You’ve outdone yourself this time.”

Alastor shrunk into himself until he was back to his normal, strawberry-suited shape. “I don’t need him,” he snarled.

“No, you don’t need him. But do you really think you’ll be happy with him gone?”

Unbidden, a tidal wave of memories came crashing down on him. Lucifer yelping as he accidentally sat on one of Alastor’s unfortunate meal choices, Lucifer destroying every one of his radios in the hotel as revenge, Lucifer gagging when he joined him for dinner one day, Lucifer’s annoyed taunts, Lucifer’s shock when he accidentally-on-purpose snuck in a compliment, Lucifer’s broad smile, Lucifer, Lucifer .

You’ve never run away before. Don’t run away from this.

“No,” he whispered. Rosie’s smile widened until it nearly cracked her face in two.

“Good. Now, you mentioned they were going to Earth?”

He nodded, struck momentarily mute by the strange emotions twisting and roaring in his chest.

“I happen to know of a certain someone who might be able to get you there.”

Alastor gripped the grimoire in one hand, ignoring the screaming pain that made itself known every time he stepped forward. The portal had been surprisingly easy to create once he’d gotten his hands on the grimoire. It transported him to the front doors of the Sistine Chapel without a hitch – which was good, since Stolas had turned one of his arms and who knew what else to stone.

That crazy owl, he thought, there was no need for all that fuss. I was only borrowing it.

The sun dipped low in the horizon, casting a heavenly orange glow over the grandiose halls of the chapel. He’d never had a chance to visit when he was a human, and a part of him marveled at the beauty of it. Truly a pinnacle of human achievement.

He would appreciate it more, if his feet didn’t feel like they were slowly being roasted over a pit. The holy power in the building was strong, and he felt it sapping away at his demonic energy like hungry parasites. His arm was growing heavier and heavier with each passing second. The distinct taste of iron tickled the back of his throat.

But Alastor plowed on. Left, right, right, left, until he finally came to a hall much greater than the others.

Voices, one cold and high, and the other so familiar it made his chest ache, filtered through the door. He put one hand on the flat wood, ignoring the fire that blazed through his body as it did its best to exorcise him back to Hell, and pushed.

Lilith turned around first, her cold eyes widening when she took in his antlers, his sentient microphone, his razor sharp teeth. “A demon? Here?”

Lucifer turned then, and a whirlwind of emotions flashed across his face. First disbelief, then anger, and finally pure, bright happiness . It made Alastor’s skin prickle. He wanted to bully him relentlessly so he could never smile like that again.

He had always liked dirty things. Liked to smudge and ruin and tear until the good was shattered in two. Lucifer was proving quite a challenge – despite spending the entirety of the universe trapped amongst sinners, despite being separated from everything good and holy, despite his depression and his growing disbelief, there was something about him that was still pure .

Alastor wanted to ruin him.

“Apologies for barging in without an invite–”

But his big speech was ruined by Lucifer, who took a step towards him, his eyes shining. Lilith was watching them both through narrowed eyes.

“You came,” he said, his eyes shining. “You actually came.”

“Don’t read too much into it,” Alastor grumbled, knowing he would anyways.

“How did you manage–?”

“Let’s get into it later.” Alastor raised his chin, staring Lilith in the eye. It was foolish, he knew. Even without the consecrated ground sapping at his demonic power and burning him alive, he was exhausted from his battle with the Goetic Prince. Roughly a third of his body had been turned to stone. He was in no shape to take on the Queen of Hell.

But he was here now. It was too late for regrets.

“What are you doing here?” Lilith asked, sounding more curious than anything.

“Merely an interested party. Please, continue with your meeting. I apologize for my rude interruption.”

Lucifer drifted closer, his eyes widening when he saw Alastor’s ripped clothes. Alastor straightened, doing his best to look as normal as possible.

“Apology accepted.” Lilith turned to Lucifer. “So, what do you think of the proposal?”

“It’s an offer of a lifetime,” Lucifer chuckled, one eye on Alastor, always Alastor. Despite the massive amounts of pain he was in, he felt a sizzle of pleasure crawl up his spine. “I thought I was banished until the end of this world.”

“Things are changing. Charlie’s little experiment is making the higher ups nervous. They’ve decided they might need your help to set things right. And if you play your part, well…who knows what might be possible?” She held out her hand. To anyone other than Alastor, she might look like the posterchild of sweetness, of love. But he was a master manipulator, and he could recognize a well-crafted mask when he saw one.

Lucifer closed his eyes, indecision warring across his face.

“We can both go to Heaven, Lu. We can be together again.”

“Stay.”

Lucifer’s eyes shot open and he whirled around to stare disbelievingly at Alastor. Lilith’s gaze shot to him too, the first flickers of anger cracking her mask. Alastor ignored her, keeping his gaze steady on Lucifer.

“Stay in Hell.” He’d rather get fully petrified by Stolas than say the next part, but he knew he must. Alastor the Radio Demon did not run away. Taking a deep breath, he choked out, “Stay with me.”

If he had been human, the radiance that shone from Lucifer would have been bright enough to melt his corneas. Lucifer stepped fully towards him – turning his back on his wife.

“I’m sorry, Lilith,” he murmured as he raised his hand, wonderingly, towards Alastor’s cheek. Alastor flinched, but forced himself to stay still as Lucifer ran one gentle finger down a scratch he hadn’t noticed was there. The flesh knitted together, the skin stitching clean. He smiled at Alastor, and Alastor was seized with the strange urge to bite it off. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m happy where I am.”

“What?” She stuttered, looking uncertain for the first time. “But you hate the sinners! You’re miserable down there!”

Lucifer laughed. “I was miserable up there too. And you know, they’re not all bad.” He looped one hand around Alastor’s waist as they headed for the door. “They don’t leave me for a year without a single word, for instance.”

The door snapped shut with a satisfying thump on Lilith’s shell shocked expression.

“Man, I’ve been dying to say that one for months. Did you see the stupid look on her face?” Lucifer crowed. Alastor let out a weak chuckle, struggling desperately to keep his feet underneath him. Now that the danger was over and the adrenaline was leaving his system, it was getting harder and harder to keep his legs moving. The weaker he grew, the more the holy energy gnawed at him.

With a whoosh, he felt his stone foot go limp. He staggered into Lucifer, who caught him easily. His eyes widened, his hands tightening around Alastor’s shivering body.

“That’s right, this is consecrated ground,” Lucifer swore. “How did you get in, anyways? There should be wards for that kind of thing. And how the fuck are you still standing?”

“Surely you’re not asking me to reveal my secrets?” Alastor managed, swallowing hard past the stone his stomach had become.

“Come on, I can’t open a portal while we’re still inside. There’s an exit nearby. You should feel better once we’re off the grounds.”

Lucifer picked up the pace, heading determinedly towards a small door Alastor had completely missed the first time around.

“But seriously, how did you get on Earth? You can’t make portals, and you don’t have –”

His voice trailed off when Alastor held up a blue-bound book with a giant gold moon stamped on the cover. Stolas’s grimoire.

“ Are you insane ?”

Alastor coughed, and a line of red streamed down the corner of his mouth. “It would have been rather easy, except the imp’s owl-friend happened to be in the room when I arrived. Unfortunate timing, that.”

Lucifer paused, his face going slack with an odd mixture of worry and fascination. “You took on a Goetic Prince? For me?”

“It wasn’t as difficult as I imagined it would be. I’ve faced Overlords with more grit.” Again, he coughed, and more blood started flowing. “But there may or may not be an international crisis waiting for you back home.”

“Fuck the crisis. Are you alright?”

“I’ll be fine.” Lucifer’s concern rankled. He was Alastor, for Hell’s sake. The Radio Demon, the strongest Overlord Pentagram City had ever seen. Even with his power half-shackled, he wasn’t some weak little imp that had to be coddled. “Stolas was too busy worrying about his favorite little pipsqueak to get off more than a few shots.”

Lucifer eyed the blood splattered down his front, but wisely decided against commenting further. As soon as they were off of sacred ground, Alastor started breathing easier. Lucifer summoned a portal and grabbed his hand to fly them into it – his left hand.

Lucifer yelped. “You – did your hand get turned into stone ?”

He shrugged. “Hand…and a few other things.” Lucifer looked horrified. “‘Tis but a flesh wound.”

“You–” Lucifer stopped, as if words failed to describe exactly how much of a lunatic Alastor was. “I gave up Heaven for you.” He said it slowly, as if he was testing the words, feeling out their price.

“I hope you’re not getting buyer’s remorse. It’s a bit too late for that.”

Quick as a flash, Lucifer grabbed Alastor’s neck and wrenched their mouths together. It wasn’t sweet. It was rough and desperate and bloody, and Alastor finally, finally let his instinct go free and slashed at Lucifer’s lips with his razor teeth. The golden blood that dripped from the shallow cuts was, for lack of a better word, heavenly.

Like burning ambrosia. A cloying warmth that bit and blazed while it healed. It made him shiver with delight. For this taste alone, he would blast through Stolas’s palace a hundred times.

When they broke away, Lucifer’s eyes were flames. “Never,” he breathed. Then he cracked his knuckles, his six wings flaring wide.

“But I do think I have a Prince of Hell to visit.”

#radioapple #alastor x lucifer #lucifer x alastor #hazbin hotel #appleradio #jealous alastor #alastor-pov chapters are the bane of my existence #duckiedeer

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hemmohaze · 20 days

Text

the one with the wedding

Word Count: 1,558

warnings: smut and mild cursing

January 2020

Bianca looked at herself in the full length mirror the hotel had provided her in the luxurious suite.

Her eldest cousin, Katherine was finally getting married today. She's already had her fair share of tears the past week they've been in The Dominican Republic where the wedding was being held.

She turned around and looked at the off the shoulder bridesmaid cream dress and cringed a little at her tattoo sticking out like a sore thumb.

"Espero que minha tia não esteja muito brava com isso." She thought to herself.

She continued to examine her outfit and makeup until she felt a familiar pair of hands on her waist stopping her mid spin.

"You look so beautiful Bianca." Luke's voice softly whispered to her as they stared at their reflections in the mirror.

"You don't look too bad yourself. You clean up nicely." She turned around in his arms and pecked his lips. They've officially got a label on their relationship as of 2 months ago. Even though only their families and his bandmates know. Everyone else on the internet has been too busy to even notice. They just think they’re really good friends.

Spending New Years and Christmas together was everything to Bianca.

Even though his fans appreciate Bianca for new Luke content she posts whenever she uploads her monthly photo dumps on Instagram.

She invited him to her cousin’s wedding as her plus one. One to sort of hard launch her relationship to distant family members and two so her aunts can stop asking her if and when she's going to get a boyfriend and start popping out kids.

"What the fuck are you staring at you weirdo." She asked as he had this dumb struck blank stare on his face.

"What? I can't stare at my sexy girlfriend? Who obviously wants to send me to an early grave." He whined slightly as his hands ran over her chest.

She smirked a little knowing what he was talking about. The dress had weird lines on it whenever she wore a bra so she decided to go braless.

"I dunno what you're talking about." She stated, feigning innocence as she over to the vanity to pretend fix her hair with Luke groaning behind her.

"Are you sure you're ready to meet all of my family at this wedding? They go on pretty much all night. It’s basically one big party.” She asked.

"If I can handle my life touring for 5 years straight, I can handle anything." He confidently said.

She got up wordlessly and fixed his crooked tie and straightened out his tuxedo.

"It's now or never then rockstar."

———————-

Luke and Bianca walked into the makeshift chapel as she greeted everyone from her family to some of the grooms family. The amount of hands shes shaken has her concerned.

Luke found Bianca's mom, Sonia and sat down with her as Bianca stood at the alter with the rest of the bridesmaids. Bianca zoned off for a while somewhere during the vows until she blinked a couple times to see Luke nodding off as her mother rubbed his shoulder affectionally trying to keep the blonde awake.

"Bianca go it’s your turn." One of the bridesmaids tapped her shoulder. She was too busy looking at Luke and her mom to notice it was her turn to leave the chapel.

"Oops my bad." She quickly walked down the aisle, quickly linking her arm with the best man as they made it down the steps to the beachfront where they'd all be taking pictures.

Katherine finally arrived as Bianca ran up to her newly married cousin. "Oh my gosh!! You're like married now." She gushed.

"I know right. I'm surprised your dad and mine aren’t loosing their shit right now." Katherine giggled.

The sun was setting creating beautiful pink and orange hues for pictures. Bianca took some with just Katherine, some with her family, some with the wedding party, and of course some with Luke.

Their poses ranged from one with them back to back with finger guns to the classic one where he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and held her close.

She watched him as he changed his phone background from a picture of Bianca and Petunia to one they just took.

“Who’s that cause she’s hot.”

————-

After pictures it was finally time for the reception.

Bianca and Luke sat with her family as Luke helped her 6 year old cousin, Maria color in her coloring book. All while Bianca talked with her mother.

"So Luke, I heard from Bianca that your band is working on an album right now" Her mother questioned him.

"Yes, we're actually almost done. It should be out sometime in March of this year." He smiled proudly and took a sip of his tequila and continued to color with Maria.

"Oh my sweetie that sounds amazing! You have got to let us know when the official date is. I’ll stream it or whatever you kids do nowadays.” Sonia gushed to him as Bianca raised her eyes from her Feijoada that she was stuffing her face with.

"Bianca. The food isn't going anywhere." Her aunt grimaced at her younger niece.

"Sorry, I'm just really hungry." She said, quite embarrassed.

Luke and Maria were whispering about something between the two as Bianca looked up.

“Mommy,” Maria tugged on her mom, Ana’s sleeve. “Can I get ice cream now??” She pulled her best puppy eyes.

Ana sighed and looked at Luke. “Could you take her??”

He nodded and got up so he could hold onto her hand and led her to the ice cream machine.

Bianca looked at the two and smiled at Luke being so gentle with her niece.

“He obviously makes you happy darling.” Sonia’s voice interrupted her daydream.

She flinched a little bit. “Ma, we’re just starting in our relationship. We just moved past the awkward sleepovers stage last night.” She groaned a little, remembering how uncomfortable she slept in worry that she would snore and disturb his sleep.

“The eyes never lie. Have you seen the way he looks at you or even the way you look at him?”

“Ok ma.” She said as the two arrived back at the table with ice cream.

“I got you some vanilla, since they didn’t have any mint chocolate chip.” Luke said as he placed the dessert in front of her face.

————————

Soon enough the reception was over as Luke carried Bianca bridal style to their shared hotel room. Their light giggles from Luke almost dropping her for the 3rd time rang through the hall.

Once they reached the room he sat her down on the floor softly. Once on the ground she went to a beeline to the mirror so she could take the dress off without getting makeup on it. Only thing is, she couldn’t get the zipper off.

She huffed in annoyance and knocked on the bathroom door. He opened the door, revealing him without a shirt.

“Could you unbutton my dress. I don’t wanna get makeup all over it.” She turned her back to him.

He fiddled with the button until he tapped her shoulder. “You’re all good now.”

She let the dress pool around her ankles as she hung it up on the hanger, He turned her around towards him swaying them slightly.

“Was your first wedding with your girlfriend just as you expected?” She asked him.

“It was better than I expected.” He responded.

They stood like this for a while until Luke’s lips crashed against hers. She let out a surprised squeal but melted into his touch. Their kiss was slow and passionate. All they wanted was to be close with one another.

He started kissing down her neck leaving little love-bites on her neck that she’ll definitely have to cover up with makeup in the morning.

He hoisted her up and gently laid her on their shared hotel bed. He kissed down every tattoo and birthmark until he squatted down.

He was face to face with her pink lace panties that she got from Victoria’s Secret a couple weeks ago.

“You rip these, you better be looking for a new girlfriend. They were expensive. ” She warned him.

He quirked an eyebrow at her, “You really wanna say that as soon as I’m about to eat you out.”

Bianca rolled her eyes and went to say another remark until she felt his thumb on the outside her panties her and rubbed her clit through it. She let out a soft moan at this action.

“May I?” Luke asked her, toying with the ribbon. She nodded earnestly.

She jutted her hips up so he could slide her panties down her slim legs. He situated himself in front of her glistening core.

“Aw who caused all this lovie?” Luke asked. He continued to kiss her angel tattoo above her pubic bone until he placed soft kisses on the insides of her thighs.

“You did Lu,” She groaned gripping onto his blond curls tightly.

“Damn right I did.”

“Luke..” She mindlessly cried, jutting her hips in his face.

“What baby? You gotta be more vocal than this.” He teased his pointer finger against her folds. “My mouth, fingers, both?”

“Both please I’m begging you.” She gripped his curls pulling him closer to her heat for some sort of relief.

She let out a gasp of pleasure when Luke finally sucked her clit lightly.

Her breathing picked up as she sat up on her elbows to look at Luke, already looking at her through hooded eyes, as he ate her out like it was his last meal. His nose brushing against her clit everytime he shook his head slightly.

It’s probably the hottest thing she’s ever seen in her life.

“That feel good pretty girl?” He asked her huskily.

“Oh my y-yes.” She sobbed in pleasure.

He sticks his longest finger in her dripping heat as she lets out a groan at the action. “Fuck your so tight.”

Bianca felt her orgasm creeping up as she tightly gripped his blonde curls in her hand.

“Oh fuck Luke. I’m gonna cum.” She panted as he curled his finger in her, hitting her sweet spot and continued his assault on her clit.

“I know. I know. C’mon lovie.” He encouraged.

Her orgasm hit her like a train. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” She moaned out, possibly knowing that the people next door could know what they’re doing she just didn’t care in that moment.

Luke chuckled more so to himself as he licked her clean with his mouth as he knew she was gonna need a minute to come down from her high.

He got up from his knees ignoring the loud crack in his and laid his head on top of Bianca’s chest as she was looking down at him with adoration.

“Ive never had an orgasm that good before, even with my vibrator and that thing is hell.” She wrapped her legs around his back.

“Good. Because you taste fucking delicious. I could be in between your legs all day.” He said before his breathing evened out and he fell asleep, her doing the same.

#luke hemmings #5sos #micheal clifford #calum hood #ashton irwin #micheal 5sos #5sos fanfic #luke hemmings fanfic #5 seconds of summer fanfic #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings imagines #luke hemmings smut

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smartycvnt · 7 months

Text

Vegas, Baby!

Title: Vegas Baby! Pairing: Bobbi Morse x Reader Summary: Bobbi and Y/n have their first kiss as a married couple. R WC: 967

Y/n watched the bleach take off the last remnants of blood from the bathtub. The mission had been messy, but an overall success. It was definitely the kind that Director Fury would have them stay in to think about all the ways it could have gone over better. Y/n wasn't going to do that though, Bobbi wouldn't let her. She'd drag Y/n with her for a night on the town. They were still in Vegas and would be until the next afternoon when their bus arrived. Bobbi had casually mentioned hitting up one of the casinos under the guise of it being suspicious for them to go to Vegas, but not been seen anywhere except for their hotel and the place where they killed a couple guys.

"Christ, you have got to air this place out," Bobbi said as she stepped into the bathroom. Y/n turned to face Bobbi, who was already done up for her night out. It was unfair how good Bobbi looked, especially since she would always be unavailable for Y/n. There would always be some other agent around who had Bobbi's attention. She had gone straight from her training crush to future husband, leaving no room for Y/n to really make an impression in between. "Is that what you're wearing out?"

"Who said I was going out?" Y/n asked. Bobbi shot Y/n a look, one that challenged Y/n to stay inside.

"Come on, are you really going to let me run around Las Vegas by myself?" Bobbi pouted as she took a step towards Y/n. Bobbi towered over Y/n, and Y/n tried to distract herself from all the ways Bobbi could have easily overpowered her in that moment. "Apparently, I'm a bit of a hazard."

"Fine, we can go out," Y/n agreed. Bobbi smiled and excitedly pulled Y/n out of the hotel room. There was a cab waiting for them on the street, which Y/n knew wasn't a good sign. Bobbi seemed to have their entire night mapped out. The cab brought them to a casino that felt a bit fancy for Y/n's black t-shirt and black jeans. Bobbi's cocktail dress made much more sense, and Y/n felt like Bobbi's bodyguard standing behind her all night.

Bobbi was unsurprisingly good at almost every table she stopped by. Bobbi didn't lose any money that she couldn't easily win right back. Even as the drinks began to flow, Bobbi was shockingly good at everything. Y/n tried to hold off on drinking, but her own boredom got the better of her. She busied herself with a few fruity drinks that turned out to pack a much bigger punch than Y/n ever would have thought.

The casino was much more fun when Y/n let herself relax. Now, it was Bobbi's turn to follow Y/n around and make sure that she didn't get into too much trouble. Their fun came to an end much quicker with Y/n when the woman started losing at Blackjack, the only form of poker she knew how to play. Bobbi hoisted Y/n over her shoulder and carried her out of the casino as Y/n shouted profanities that Bobbi hadn't heard since her time in the military at the security team following them out.

"What a bunch of-," Y/n started, only to be cut off by Bobbi.

"Not now," Bobbi warned. Y/n pouted as she looked up at Bobbi. It didn't take very long for Bobbi to register that Y/n was just staring at her. "What?"

"You're pretty, I'd like to marry you." Y/n's words were jumbled together, but Bobbi could still decipher them. "Why did you marry that stupid British guy instead of me? I thought we had something special."

"We did, and that's why I couldn't marry you," Bobbi confessed. Y/n didn't seem to understand it, but Bobbi doubted that it mattered when Y/n started trying to chase down a street food vendor. Bobbi thought they were in the clear until Y/n brought it back up again as they walked past a 24 hour wedding chapel.

"Will you marry me?" Y/n asked hopefully. "Come on, we're in Vegas. You know what they say, and it's not like we don't love each other. Please Barbie, I just wanna love ya."

Bobbi couldn't believe herself as she let Y/n walk her inside. They filled out the forms, which seemed very simple for legally binding contracts, and a man dressed like a wizard ushered them into a little room. There was a blood stain on the carpet in front of a table with a small memorial for a terrible Elvis impersonator. Bobbi had a nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach about this being a terrible idea, but if Y/n woke up in the morning regretting it, they had a great cop-out. Bobbi could pretend that she hadn't sobered up after Y/n caused a scene in the casino. They could pretend to never even know if they didn't want to.

"You may now kiss the bride," the wizard said. He took a step back and Y/n tried to dip Bobbi in a Hollywood kiss, but it was much less graceful than that. Bobbi caught Y/n before she could fully fall. Y/n stared up at Bobbi with a lovestruck look on her face, and Bobbi had no choice but to kiss her. The kiss was messy, as would any with the amount of alcohol that they consumed over the night, but to Bobbi, it was perfect. It was her first kiss with her wife, and she could only hope that they both remembered it in the morning.

#my writing #agents of shield x reader #agents of shield #marvel x reader #marvel #bobbi morse #bobbi morse x reader #mcu x reader #mcu #one shot

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dotster001 · 1 year

Text

Enemies to Lovers:Epilogue

Summary: Years have passed since you woke up Vil. And now....

A/N: stay tuned to the end to see a preview of the next fic I'll be writing for my coworker. She's a Leona, Floyd, and Jamil simp, and it's probably time to be nice to her 😂 let me know if you'd like to be on that tag list. It's a Jamil x reader series.

Chapters: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten

You looked in the mirror as Rook finished your makeup. Vil had made him practice the style twice a day, every day for a month to make sure he could do it perfectly. Of course Vil was a minor groomzilla. It only made sense, and you should have realized after how perfect his proposal had been.

You had gone to visit Epel and Deuce in Harveston. On the second day of the trip, you and Vil went out for a walk in the apple orchard. The apple blossoms had just come into bloom, and the smells filling the air were straight from heaven.

Suddenly, a soft breeze distracted you, as it caused the apple blossoms to fall off the trees and circle yourself and Vil….who was on one knee in front of you.

With the finishing touches done on your look, Rook signaled to the people in the chapel that you were ready. He escorted you to the door, where you waited.

Then he emerged. A bright smile on his face as he looked at you with total adoration. Rook pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, before giving your hand to Vil. He repeated the kiss on Vil's cheek, and then the music began.

Vil had insisted you walk out together, as equals. You couldn't help but be suspicious that he did this for dramatic effect, but in theory, you couldn't argue much with his reasoning.

As you walked down the aisle, you did your best to ignore the cameras. Vil was too kind to his fans to completely remove them from his wedding, so it was being live streamed.

"You look radiant, my apple blossom," Vil leaned in and whispered to you. "I know Rook promised he wouldn't cry, but with how beautiful we both look, it's impossible for him to keep that promise."

You playfully rolled your eyes, but couldn't hold back your giggle. Bless Vil. You knew he saw your anxiety over the cameras, and wanted to make it easier. It was moments like these you were happy you said yes.

You made eye contact with Crewel, who was asked to officiate the wedding for you. He was another one who'd promised not to cry. Yet he and Rook had both already cried when they were told of the engagement.

Rook and Crewel had stared at you with wide eyes, their coffee's going cold as they watched the two people they loved the most tell them that they were marrying each other. Rook broke the silence first.

"J'aurais pu être une mouche sur le mur quand le plus beau des Vil a professé sa dévotion éternelle à sa précieuse fleur!" Rook said, clutching onto both Vil and you, and sobbing.

Before you could ask what the fuck any of that meant, Crewel started crying as well.

"My beloved pups are all grown up, and have realized that the only ones worthy of them were each other!"

Once the sobbing stopped, both of them pulled out notebooks full of designs that they had apparently been holding onto since your graduation.

You finished the walk up to the aisle, and joined hands. The wedding went on as normal until…

"If there are any objections, speak now or forever hold your peace."

Floyd instantly stood up. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Vil's jaw clench. But it had been years since Floyd had confessed to you, and you knew he had a secret partner, so whatever was about to happen, was probably just to add some chaos.

"You promise you'll never hurt my Shrimpy, right Betta fish?" He said with a glare he reserved for those who had gone back on deals.

"Floyd, if at this point you truly think I would ever hurt Y/N, then you are a fool," Vil said with an eye roll.

Floyd grinned, "Ha ha, I know. But I was getting bored."

Azul yanked Floyd back in his seat as Jade laughed next to him.

Crewel heaved a sigh, and continued, "Then by the powers vested in me, I pronounce you Mr. and Mx. Schoenheit-L/N. You may kiss the…"

He didn't even finish before Vil's lips were on yours, his hands cradling your face like it was the most precious thing he'd ever beheld.

When he pulled away, you were barely able to process the applause as you stared into his violet eyes, and happily realized that this was just the beginning of a beautiful lifetime.

.....

Tag list-@shytastemakerthing @stygianoir @iruiji @da-disappointment

....................................................................................................

Sneak Peak . OoOoOoOoOoOh!

"Sure there is," you said scooching so half of your chair was empty. "You can join me." You patted the empty part of your chair, and he begrudgingly took it.

"Good call dude," Ace said through a mouthful of food, "Once they get here they'd have made that decision for you."

"They?" Jamil asked.

"That's my seat," he heard a low growl behind him, and turned to see Leona looking annoyed.

"Pardon?" Jamil asked.

"It's my turn for that seat," Leona said, looking, annoyed, between the two of you.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #vil x reader #vil schoenheit

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thewordworrier · 4 months

Text

If You Marry Me - Part Three

Series Masterpost

Word Count: 7,676 words.

Time for a ceremony and some shenanigans.

The walk to the chapel wasn’t a long one, but Shelly was still glad that she had picked shoes that weren’t massively high. Because she had purchased a new pair of shoes, and she’d been wearing them on the bus a bit to wear them in. They were cute, would later on go with other outfits and had a lower heel. Mostly because she didn’t like very high heels - she couldn’t walk in them for very long. That was the main reason.

The secondary reason was that shoes with too high of a heel would mean that she would be too close to Gerard’s height (or the height of any of the band members really) and… She didn’t want that. She liked being shorter than them. She especially liked being shorter than a… Than a romantic partner. It made her feel cute. It made her feel like she could be protected and she liked that. Not that she wasn’t capable of looking after herself, because she could. But sometimes she wanted someone else to look after her. Sometimes she wanted help. Most of the time she just found it really difficult to ask for that.

The guys were already waiting for them when the girls got to the chapel around the corner. It was kinda cute, and not too tacky externally, which did please Shelly a bit.

“Ah,” Lux said quietly to her as they saw the guys ahead. “Your idea to tell them an earlier time worked.”

“Of course it did,” Shelly smiled a little.

“True, you are the brains here after all.”

The girls greeted the guys before Shelly ushered the band to sit down. She then went to check in with the staff - unaware that Gerard was watching her the whole time.

He watched her as she leant on the counter to talk to the woman behind it - she leant on all counters in that same way; hotels check-ins, receptions, fast food counters, all of those kinds of things. She would lean her arms on the counter, one foot resting behind the other - one foot forward so to speak, while the back one had its toes on the ground, heel in the air. She stood very cutely and Gerard never got tired of seeing her stand that way.

She smiled at the woman behind the counter and they had some kind of conversation while she got up and went to check a side drawer. She pulled out a box and Shelly handed over her ID. Shelly then took her ID back accompanied by the box. She stood normally, asking the receptionist something else, and when she got a nod in response, she opened the box.

Inside that shipping box were the rings that she and Gerard had picked. She’d gotten them shipped straight to this chapel - after she’d phoned ahead to get permission, of course. She checked each ring before pocketing them and the paperwork inside the box. The receptionist took the shipping box from Shelly, as she said she would (which is what Shelly had asked just now) and Shelly thanked her before returning to the band.

“We’ve got a short wait time,” she said, sitting next to Lux.

Frank’s eyes had been drawn to her legs, or what there was of them on show, from the moment he’d seen that she was on her way back, and he kept his eyes on her legs as she sat down and crossed one over the other. That definitely showed off more. He peered closer, because it didn’t look like she was wearing tights or anything.

“Miss Shelly.”

Shelly glanced around Lux to look at Frank. “Mm?”

“You ARE wearing something under that coat, aren’t you?”

Lux smirked at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I would!”

“Well, I know what she’s wearing!” Lux stuck her tongue out at him.

“Children,” Ray shook his head.

“I should hope that I’m wearing something under this,” Shelly addressed Frank. “Considering the fact that I’m planning on taking the coat off in a minute or two.”

Frank hummed at Shelly before side-eyeing Lux, who just grinned innocently at him.

The group sat quietly for a little bit longer - not too much longer though, before they were called in. Shelly stood up and took a few steps over to Gerard, who had stood up as soon as she did.

“Hey,” she said softly, pretending to straighten his tie. “Are you sure about this?”

Gerard nodded, just once, but it was such a… Strong and firm nod.

“Yeah,” he whispered to her. “Yeah, I am. Because it’s you.”

Shelly glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow.

He swallowed under that… Almost questioning look of hers. “I mean, um, anything to help you. Because you do anything and everything for us, or to help us.”

Shelly smiled up at him, though she seemed… Amused. Gerard privately congratulated himself a little bit - that had been a relatively decent save?

“Okay then,” she said softly, pulling the ring boxes out of the coat pockets. “Take these for me?”

Gerard took them and put them in the pocket of his suit blazer.

Shelly turned to the others. “Mr. Toro, sir?”

Ray grinned at her. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Would you be so kind as to help a little lady with her coat?”

“Of course!” Ray just beamed, taking a step forward to help her out of the jacket.

As this was happening, Lux kept her eyes on Gerard, eager to see his reaction to the dress that Shelly was wearing. Black, shortish, kinda tight, lacey details… All things that Gerard would like - especially the lace bits.

And she was not disappointed - the singer definitely did a double take. He definitely gave her a proper look over at least twice. Both times with very wide eyes. The second time caused a blush to appear on his face as he swallowed.

‘Yeah,’ Lux thought. ‘He likes that; the dress, the way it looks on her, her in general. Of course he does, she looks like a fox; she looks incredible. And it’s pretty awesome to see him so speechless!’

Frank, being Frank, wolf-whistled at their tiny manager. “God damn. We should get you married more often if you’re gonna dress like that!”

“Frank!” Lux scolded. “You don’t talk about a man’s almost wife that way!”

“At least not in front of him,” Mikey added with a grin.

Shelly just rolled her eyes at them before turning her attention back to Gerard, who went very very pink when he realised that she had just caught him staring at her. He blinked rapidly, and was about to apologise when she smiled at him.

“Ready?” She asked gently. “You can still back out?”

“Nuh uh,” he muttered. “Not gonna, very ready.”

Lux grinned at the others at his reaction, who all grinned back. All while trying not to laugh at the look on Gerard’s face. At least, that’s what Frank was doing anyway - trying not to laugh at the vocalist.

Shelly hummed a little as she took in the look on Gerard’s face for a few more seconds.

“Oh! Wait a second!” Gerard moved back to where they had been sitting and returned to Shelly with a small bunch of red roses.

“On the way here, he realised that you two hadn’t discussed flowers,” Ray said.

“They’re probably not gonna last too long,” Gerard said softly. “And maybe they’re the wrong colour but -”

Shelly leant up and kissed his cheek before stepping back and quickly checking her face in her phone that she’d rescued from the coat pocket.

“I’d forgotten about flowers actually,” she confessed to him. “They’re kinda perfect Gerard. I really match the album aesthetic now.”

This made him chuckle. She smiled at this, handed Frank her phone so he could get photos and then took the flowers from Gerard.

“Sure?” She asked one more time.

“Yes.”

Shelly nodded and then led everyone into the room.

Gerard was actually kinda relieved to see that she hadn’t picked a Wedding Elvis. That might’ve been a step too far for either of them, to be honest. He knew that she thought Vegas weddings were… Strange would be the kindest way to word it. And not in a good way. When they had been talking about rings, she had said that she had wanted to make this whole thing as… Well, as normal as possible. Ish. Not extravagant, not tacky, just… Normal. He’d agreed, really. Just because it was a means to an end, didn’t mean that it couldn’t be… Nice. And she’d agreed with that.

The whole thing didn’t really take that long. Neither Shelly nor Gerard had written their own vows - what was the point, really? Besides, that kinda thing took time - more than the handful of days they’d had. (That’s not to say that neither of them might’ve mentally tried over the last few days - Gerard certainly had penned a few lines in his own brain.) Despite the fact that the whole ceremony didn’t take that long, Gerard kept his eyes on her the whole time.

When the officiant eventually got to the “you may kiss the bride” part of the vows, Shelly looked equal parts embarrassed and shy. To avoid looking at Gerard for a moment, she glanced down at their hands - because they were still holding hands from earlier.

Gerard had reached for her hands as soon as they’d turned to face each other in front of the preacher. She hadn’t minded at all, to be honest. They had then only stopped holding hands to exchange rings.

Except now, Gerard’s thumb was rubbing small circles into her skin and that was kinda soothing, actually. She wasn’t aware of the fact that he was doing it absent-mindedly.

It took Gerard a moment - if only because he was too busy admiring how pretty she was when she blushed - before he gently cleared his throat and let one of her hands go. He noticed her eyes widen a little when he did this, but he used his now free hand to gently lift her chin. She blinked rapidly at him so he smiled reassuringly in return, waiting until she smiled back before he leant forward to plant a small, soft - almost chaste - kiss on her lips.

When he kissed her, he both heard and felt Shelly make a little “mm” noise - and if this had been an anime or something, he knew that there would’ve been a little heart floating up from between them at that. If this was a manga, he knew she would be the type of character who spoke with heart emojis - that noise would’ve been written out like “mm <3” and it was adorable. He could hear that kinda thing in her voice when she spoke sometimes.

He didn’t know if the others could hear it on a regular, day to day basis. Normally he hoped that they could. But today? He hoped not. He hoped that bit was just for him.

From the moment the two had stepped up in front of the officiant, and the others had taken their seats, Lux had been a little bit misty eyed. The whole band knew how Gerard felt about Shelly - it definitely wasn’t a secret anymore. But not everyone was entirely sure how Shelly felt about Gerard - she tried so very hard to remain professional, but, because she was (remarkably and surprisingly) only human, sometimes her professional standards slipped and they’d catch her looking at Gerard a little too long, or Lux would hear her sigh a little too dreamily.

In addition to that, Lux and Shelly did talk a bit more around the topic than Shelly did with the other guys, and Lux did pick up on things here and there. Sometimes she would go on to discuss some of Shelly’s actions, or something that the blonde had said, with the others, but most of the time she didn’t - most of the time she would keep that information tucked away in her own mental vaults.

She got a little extra misty eyed when Shelly and Gerard exchanged rings and she sniffled when Gerard kissed Shelly. Mikey tried not to grin too much to himself at Lux’s reactions - it was cute! And he gently patted her knee, because of course he’d snagged the seat beside her.

Until he’d been a little distracted by Lux’s sniff, Mikey had been watching his brother. Gerard had been looking at Shelly so… So softly, that Mikey could practically see the hearts in Gerard’s eyes. Then again, to be fair, Shelly was looking at Gerard just as softly. She’d pretty much had a permanent light blush on her face for the entire time they were standing up there, and it had deepened in colour when they’d exchanged rings, and then even more when they had to kiss.

Frank had been busy taking photos with Shelly’s phone, like she’d asked, but had also ended up passing a slightly emotional Ray a tissue with a grin before leaning to talk into Ray’s ear: “are you sure you’re not the band mom here?”

Ray rolled his eyes at Frank before elbowing him gently.

If you had asked the rest of the band, away from Shelly and Gerard, they all would have agreed that the whole thing - the whole ceremony - was kinda adorable; mostly because of the way they looked at each other, and the fact that it was happening in the first place. But they would all also say that it was a little bit… Sad, really. Because Shelly and Gerard were clearly just so into each other, and they would just be so good together, and good for each other. They would look after each other and treat each other right - like they both deserved. They would love the other right, in the right ways, and bring out the best in the other.

That and Lux still thought that Gerard and Shelly would have the cutest babies.

Gerard kissed the bride, the officiant pronounced them husband and wife and Frank took a few more photos before Shelly and Gerard stepped aside to sign the paperwork. Before they left the room, Gerard managed to press a kiss to her forehead (and yes, Frank managed to get a photo of that too), and the group left the room. Shelly gestured for them to wait aside for a few moments while she hurried back over to the receptionist with the paperwork; she wanted to make sure all the things she needed - like the expedited options - were all paid for and all of that as well.

“Alright! Where’s the reception?” Lux said with a small grin, oblivious to the fact that her make-up was a bit smeared and her eyes were pink-rimmed.

Frank laughed. “I don’t know, where’s the nearest bar?”

“Is it too early to drink?” Ray asked, moving Shelly’s coat so he could check his watch.

“We still have a show tonight though guys,” Gerard said quietly, not taking his eyes off of the blonde.

“Oh! Well, then we’ll use the green room!” Lux nodded.

“Just, make sure that you can play your instruments properly, please?” Shelly said, as she returned to them while they were mid conversation. She tried to take her coat from Ray, only to have him help her into it instead. She giggled. “Thank you, kind sir. But seriously guys, people paid for their tickets for the show tonight, don’t let them down and don’t let me down, please?”

“We won’t,” they chorused.

Frank grinned slyly. “I suppose that you two will want some alone time now, huh? Don’t wear him out Shell, you said it yourself, we have a gig tonight!”

Shelly spluttered as Gerard went very pink.

“Frank!” Lux and Mikey scolded in unison before they glanced at each other.

Ray shook his head at Frank but sort of grinned at the other two before clearing his throat. “Now now children. May I suggest that we head back to the hotel for a bit so we can make sure that we’ve gone over the setlist properly? And so Miss Lux can change - I don’t think she’s going to want to drum in a dress.”

Lux nodded. “Oh absolutely! They get enough of a show!”

Frank looked at Ray as he spoke, and by the time the other guitarist had finished speaking, had sensed the opportunity for mischief - he even had a plan coming to mind.

“That sounds like a good idea,” Frank said. “Gerard, you can hang out with your wife for a bit while we go and do that.”

“I might need to change too -” Shelly started.

“Psh, it’s Vegas,” Frank waved it off, gathering the others. “You look fucking stunning and will fit right in.”

“I can’t really do my job in this dress -”

“You can’t really run either!” Frank added with a grin before quickly ushering the others away.

Shelly watched them leave with a frown on her face, Gerard standing close by her side.

“Do you ever get the feeling that they’re up to something?” He asked her quietly.

“Oh god. I get that feeling all the time when Frank’s involved.”

Gerard laughed and then caught her looking at him. “Um. Is everything done here?”

Shelly nodded. “Do you want to ignore them and just go back to the rooms, or… Do you want to get a coffee or something?”

“Er,” Gerard hesitated, looking at her to see if he could figure out what she would want. “I… What do you want to do? Because I don’t mind.”

“Oh Gerard,” she sighed softly. “I don’t mind either.”

“Maybe we could go and get a coffee then?” Gerard suggested, nervously. “I know it might fuel into whatever the others might say or think but -”

“They’re gonna make jokes anyway I think,” Shelly said with a nod. “I don’t think there’s anything we could pick that would get us the least amount of jokes and possible teasing.”

“Mm, I think you’re right.”

She giggled. “Well, this is a good start.”

“Hmn?” He tilted his head as she giggled.

“I mean, a good start to, ah um, married life? With you agreeing with me?”

“Oh!” He smiled. “Ah, well, happy wife, happy life, right? And you’re right most of the time so…”

Shelly leant up to kiss his cheek again. “So well trained already.”

Gerard had to bite his lip at that comment, because his brain did not keep that PG in the slightest. Then again, he was pretty guilty of doing that almost all the time when it came to Shelly and it was normally because of the language she chose to use. Not that she used vulgar language! Not at all. It was just the way she worded things sometimes. He just had a filthy mind when she was involved. He couldn’t help it. He wished he could, but every time he thought he was doing okay, she would go ahead and say something like that and… Nope. Time to flip the incident chart back to ‘0 days since…’

“Well,” he managed to get out eventually. “I try, you know?”

“I think you do well.”

That made him smile. She always made him smile. He offered her his arm, which, after a moment’s hesitation, she took.

“Let’s go and get a coffee, and delay having to go back and deal with the others -”

“Mostly Frank,” Shelly said with a nod.

“Mostly Frank, and the teasing and whatnot.”

Shelly giggled. “Sure thing. I think there’s a cafe just down the road.”

“Okay, let’s go there then.”

Of course Gerard opted to go and get a coffee with Shelly - now legally his wife. God. He needed to not think about it that way. Or at least, he needed to not think about it like that often, because it wasn’t real. It was just so they didn’t lose her.

But of course he was going to opt for that option instead of heading back to the rooms. Why would he pass up the chance to spend some more time with the woman he had feelings for? More to the point, why would he pass up the opportunity to spend more alone, one on one time with her?

Thankfully, she didn’t seem to have a problem with this. Gerard thought that actually, she seemed… Pleased? Maybe he was projecting, maybe he was being overly hopeful and reading too much into it. Or maybe he wasn’t. Maybe she was happy that they could spend a little alone time together. He wasn’t entirely sure and he really wished that he had more confidence with reading her. Then again, on the other hand, he didn’t think that he’d ever done anything that might’ve upset or insulted her, and he did know that because she was pretty good at telling them if something they did or said had hurt her or something.

So, he hoped he could continue that because he really did care about her, and he really didn’t want to hurt her at all, even accidentally. And he didn’t feel this way just because she was now his wife, nor was it because he had major romantic feelings for her. He didn’t want to hurt her because she was a good person, and because she was so good to and for the band.

~#~

While Shelly and Gerard went on their little coffee… Date? The rest of the band made their way back to their hotel rooms. Lux headed to the room she would be sharing with Shelly in order to change into what she would wear to the show later. The guys went back to one of their two rooms, just to hang out and wait.

They weren’t in there for very long before Frank had a visible lightbulb moment and dragged the other two to outside Lux’s door, without saying a word.

“Are you decent yet?” He called through the door.

There was a small ‘thud’ from the other side of the door, and not too long later the door opened. Lux stood in the doorway, dressed and ready for their show.

“Yeah,” she said. “What’s up?”

“I have a plan!” Frank said. “For mischief! And, it might even knock Gerard and Shelly’s heads together.”

Ray winced at the use of “mischief” but Mikey perked up at the last part of Frank's sentence.

“Okay…” Lux narrowed her eyes a little bit, leaning against the doorframe. “And?”

Frank grinned for a moment before looking as innocent as he could manage (which wasn’t very, this was Frank after all). “I think the newlyweds should share a room tonight.”

Ray’s eyes widened a little as he put it together quickly. “Are you saying that we should do some room swapping?”

The shorter guitarist nodded with a bigger grin. “Yes! But we’ll have to force them into staying together, as they’re not going to do it willingly after the fact, you know? Plus, maybe if they’re ‘trapped’ together overnight, one of them might give in and say something about how they feel.”

“I’ll start packing,” Lux nodded, letting the guys into the hotel room.

It was only when the guys were let into the room that the source of the thud from earlier was revealed. It turned out that the source of the noise had been Lux’s suitcase falling off of the bed. The only bed in the room. (But if the guys had thought about it for a few moments, they would’ve realised that duh, of course this room would’ve had one bed - their rooms had one bed too.) Frank really had to bite his tongue to stop himself from making a comment about Shelly and Lux sharing a bed.

“It’s better to do the room switching as we’re doing now, because even if they do come back before the show, Gerard’s less likely to need to get into his room to change or whatever, we can persuade him to come and hang out in another room. Shelly is likely to want to change her clothes.” Frank explained to the rest of his bandmates.

“She might want to cover up a bit more,” Lux said with a nod as she continued putting stuff back in her case.

“And then,” Frank continued. “Just find a way for them to be back from the show after us.”

“Why do we need to do that?” Ray asked.

“‘Cause then they won’t be able to make us swap rooms with them,” Lux said.

Frank nodded. “We can all pretend to be asleep or we can just not answer the door.”

Mikey gave Ray a key and Ray went to acquire all of Gerard’s stuff.

“Mikes, did Gerard take his room key?” Frank asked.

“Pffft, of course not.”

Frank laughed. “Okay, good. Give that one to Lux -”

Mikey crossed the room a bit to hand the key to the drummer.

“We’ll take hers when we head to the venue, or when we meet up with the other two later and we can hand that one to Gerard, to pretend that it’s his. Shelly will say goodnight and head into the room she expects and he’ll probably end up trying it in each door until one works when we’re done with the show.”

“He does forget room locations sometimes,” Mikey said with a nod. “Especially when he’s distracted. Which he will be after today.”

“Oh, big time!” Lux agreed with a grin, trying not to think about the fact that she had a key to Mikey’s room in her pocket now.

Frank exhaled softly. “Oh boy, yeah. I mean, I didn’t know that she had it in her to dress like that. Jesus.”

“Dude!” Mikey grinned slightly, though he was pretending to be cross. “That’s my sister in law you’re eyeing up.”

“Yeah!” Lux pointed at Frank, wagging her finger. “And if you make it weird, it’ll never happen again!”

“You mean,” Frank watched Lux go back to folding a pair of PJ pants. “She won’t dress like a fox again?”

“Something like that,” Lux nodded. “If you make it too weird, it’ll make her uncomfortable and she’ll stop.”

He grinned. “I don’t know, she doesn’t tell me off for complimenting her, she just blushes.” He paused for a moment before smiling gently. “She needs building up, she’s a babe. Even J thinks she’s hot!”

“I mean, yeah of course you should tell her that she looks nice, but just… Don’t get weird with it! Why do you think I dress like this?” Lux explained, gesturing to her jeans and t-shirt.

Mikey grinned slightly. “Frank doesn’t know how to not be weird. Being weird is his default setting.”

Frank snorted and was about to berate either one or both of them before he seemed to have an “oh!” lightbulb moment. He turned to the pair. “You two don’t have a problem with sharing a room, do you?”

Mikey blinked rapidly for a moment before shaking his head. “No, of course not. Especially not if it gets them to finally sort themselves out.”

Though privately he was thinking; duh, of course not! I didn’t step up to volunteer to help Shelly because, not only could I not do that to my brother - even if it was just to keep her in the country, but I couldn’t do that to Lux - because it’s her I’m interested in!)

“Nah, I’m cool with it. It’s fine!” Lux said with a shake of her head, although she was attempting to distract herself a bit with a pair of socks.

“Good, good!” Frank grinned and went to open the door after there was a knock on it.

Ray returned with Gerard’s bag, which he put on the floor, sort of in the middle - kinda obvious but not in the way. He then went to sit down.

“So the plan is,” Frank continued, after closing the door. ”After the show, we all need to get back before them, and if anyone knocks on the door, ignore it so they’re forced together.”

“Pretend that we don’t exist,” Mikey said with a nod.

“Although,” Ray piped up. “I do think that if they text or call, we should at least provide them with enough information so that Shelly doesn’t panic because she thinks we’re missing.”

“Oh! Of course! That’s actually really important ‘cause she will worry,” Frank said.

“Let me just grab my stuff from the bathroom,” Lux announced. “Then I’ve got everything.”

While she does that Frank kinda just stares at her bag for a moment before his gaze drifts to Gerard’s bag.

“Someone remind me to sneak condoms into his jacket later,” he said suddenly as Lux returned from the little bathroom. “Unless you think Shell has some, Lux?”

Mikey and Ray pulled almost the exact same face.

“Uhhhh,” Lux said, the question taking her by surprise for a moment. “I doubt that she has, but she normally has a bit of everything, so it’s possible?”

Frank nodded and grinned. “Actually, you’re right. She very well might do. We were having a discussion about their multiple uses once. Ditto with lube.”

“I’m all set to move rooms now!” Lux said a little bit louder than normal, hoping to just shut Frank up for a moment.

Mikey, ever the gentleman, but especially so when it came to Lux, went to grab her case for her. And also because he too wanted to get away from Frank and his insinuations.

Ray let out the biggest, deepest sigh. “I am so done with you.”

Frank just laughed and followed the others into what would now be Lux and Mikey’s room, making sure Shelly’s room was locked behind them.

“Shall we actually go over the setlist and that now like we said we were going to?”

~#~

Gerard and Shelly managed to grab themselves something to drink (coffee for Gerard, hot chocolate for Shelly), but the little cafe had been oddly busy, so they’d asked for their drinks ‘to go’ before taking a slow walk together to find somewhere outside for them to be able to sit down. Once they’d found a little bench, they sat close together (which wasn’t totally unusual - Shelly did like to stick close to any of them whenever she sat with them) and sat in a comfortable quiet for a little bit. After a few minutes, Gerard sipped his coffee and cleared his throat.

“Um,” he said softly. “You look really, really good.”

Shelly had looked up from her drink as soon as he had started to speak. By the time he finished, she was a little bit pink. “T- thank you.”

Gerard could feel his own cheeks starting to get warm. He swallowed and focused on his drink way too hard. “I mean, you always dress well, but that dress is especially -”

She shifted a bit closer and leant up to kiss his cheek. This little action made the rest of his sentence die in his throat.

“Oh,” he whispered, going even pinker.

“You scrub up well too, you know,” Shelly went back to her drink, although Gerard swore that she was sitting that little bit closer now. “I do really like this suit on you.”

Gerard shifted in his spot, subconsciously moving closer to her too. “I… I know you do. It’s why I picked this one.”

Shelly blinked rapidly as she looked up at him. She tilted her head in question.

Her silence made him look at her, and he smiled. “I pay attention.”

“I… Hmm…” She sipped her hot chocolate. “I know you do, but…”

Gerard waited for a moment, but when it looked like she wasn’t going to continue, he gently knocked his knee against hers.

“You look good in my coat,” he said.

“I think you got a decent deal, actually,” Shelly giggled a little. “It’s a nice coat. I mean, I know it might not be typically masculine but I think you can pull it off quite well.”

Her giggle made him smile, though internally he was thinking about pulling the coat off of her. She must not have been expecting a reply to that because they sat quietly for a little bit longer. Until she let out a soft sigh.

Gerard looked at her, feeling a bit concerned. “Shell? You okay?”

“Mm,” she leant her head against his arm. “I just wanted to say, again, thank you for doing this for me.”

He automatically wrapped his arm around her as soon as she settled against his arm, and he pulled her against him that little bit more before he rested his cheek on the top of her head. He wasn’t sure, but he thought that she nestled closer.

“That’s okay,” he said quietly. “I mean, it’s this or lose you, right?”

Shelly nodded. “If you strip it down to the bare bones of it all, yeah, I guess.”

Gerard hummed - he really wished that she’d used different words there.

“We can’t have that,” he said softly. “You’re so good for us as a band. We’d miss you. No one else can match up to you now.”

She glanced up at him to see him focused on his drink. His arm was still wrapped tightly around her and for a moment she wondered if they should really be sitting together cuddled up like this. In case someone took a photo of them or something. Then again, the rest of the band would jump to their/her defence and say that she was just that affectionate (which was true).

“I don’t know about that,” she said.

“I do,” Gerard squeezed her against him a bit, part of his brain almost wriggling at his word choice. “I don’t think that anyone else would work even half as hard as you do. You really do more than the job description says you should.”

Shelly hummed a bit. “I do it because I want you guys to have the best. I think you deserve it, and I think that if you guys are going to do your best, then I need to work harder to make sure you get the best.”

“We already have the best,” Gerard almost murmured into her hair. “We have you.”

“Shushhhh,” Shelly grumbled into his arm, clearly a little embarrassed. “Stop it.”

Gerard chuckled and gently kissed the top of her head. “Never.”

The pair hung out together for a little longer, finishing their drinks and chatting quietly until Shelly checked the time and suggested that maybe they should head back to the hotel so she could change. Gerard agreed, of course he did, but he was a little bit disappointed by the idea of her changing her clothes.

He thought that she looked so good in that dress, and in his coat, it seemed a shame that she wasn’t going to show herself off a little bit more. On the other hand, he kinda didn’t want the world to see her looking so good. And, privately, he really wanted to pull the coat off of her, strip her of her dress to get her naked - or at the minimum, he wanted to push the dress up so he could get between her thighs. Whichever. He’d be happy with either of those.

Then again, he really, really wanted all of this to be real.

They headed back to the hotel together, walking pretty close to each other. Before they split up to go to different rooms, Shelly squeezed his arm and leant up to kiss his cheek before quickly making her way to her room to change. She had done this so quickly that he barely had time to react to it - he only really had enough time and mental capacity to realise that it had happened.

She disappeared into her room and Gerard went to join the others. He settled in a chair while the others discussed… He wasn’t even really sure what they were talking about, because he had zoned out a little bit. He got lost in his head and he spent a long time looking at, and fiddling with, the ring on his finger.

He did, for a moment or two, think that maybe he should take it off, in case someone at the gig - one of the professional photographers or someone - catches sight of it. In case someone gets a photo of him with it on. He really should take it off. Being caught with it on, might cause more problems - for him, for the band, for Shelly. It might make way more work for her, and he really didn’t want that. He never wanted to make things harder for her, to give her more work that she didn’t need.

Gerard examined the wedding band on his finger, without taking it off, for a few minutes and he seriously thought about taking it off and putting it in his pocket.

“Hey, Gerard, you wanna give us your input here?”

The use of his name jolted him out of his head and drew his attention to the rest of his band and away from the one on his finger.

Shelly, meanwhile, looked herself over in the mirror in her room. She’d taken Gerard’s coat off and put it on the end of the bed, so she was standing in the dress and heels that she’d just gotten married in. She kinda… Didn’t want to change out of this dress. She did actually really like it - she felt good in it. She felt kinda sexy, actually. So she felt good in it, she thought that it looked good - hell, the reactions from her band had shown her that yeah, she did look good. That, and she had caught the way that Gerard had looked at her - both when she first took his coat off before they went in to get married, and after they came out and she had to head back over to the desk to double check everything. She knew that he’d been watching her and she had caught the way that he’d been looking at her. She also had seen the way he’d blushed when they’d been getting coffee, when he’d told her that she’d looked good.

She tucked her hair behind her ear and looked at herself via a few angles before letting out a soft sigh and sitting on the edge of the bed that was not too far behind her. As usual, her feet didn’t really touch the ground, because she was short, and not even these heels helped her with that. She stared at her slowly swinging feet for a moment, until she had to brush some lint off of her dress. Doing that drew her eyes to the ring on her finger.

It really was a simple, but pretty thing. She was kinda glad that Gerard had been a little more insistent.

“Just because it’s not forever doesn’t mean it can’t be pretty. You’re allowed to pick something you like, Shell.”

She was glad that she’d listened to him, actually. Because, while this wasn’t the ring she would’ve picked had she been doing this “getting married” thing for real, it wasn’t too bad either. It was, as she said, pretty. It was prettier in its simplicity too, actually. At least, it was in her opinion. And Gerard’s matching one was nice. She was a bit worried that it could be seen as a little girly, but Gerard had said that he didn’t mind, that he didn’t think so. She just had to take his word for it, and for some reason she found that quite easy to do.

Shelly slowly twisted the ring around her finger a few times. She should take it off, really. But, much like the fact that she should change out of her dress - she didn’t want to do that either. Maybe she could say that she was keeping it on to stop people hitting on her? That might work - in both aspects; in the little lie and in the actual action. Men were notorious for not taking a “no” from a woman unless another man (like a husband) was involved. Yeah, that sounded like a good idea. It wasn’t to do with the fact that she wanted to pretend that this was real. Not at all.

After sitting and looking at the ring for a few minutes, Shelly moved to her feet and went to look through her bags. She managed to find a much flatter pair of shoes, which was nice for her because she initially thought that she had left those on the bus. She didn’t really want to walk around backstage in heels after all - the few times she’d had to do that before, she felt like she had slowed down. So flats for backstage it was. Once she’d changed her shoes she rummaged through her bag again and came across one of her favourite cardigans, pastel in shade, of course. But the cardigan did give her an idea.

“Fuck it,” she muttered.

She stood in front of the mirror in her flatter shoes, and put her cardigan on over her dress, fastening the buttons from the bottom up, and stopping just in the middle of her bust. That wasn’t uncommon behaviour for her, honestly. She didn’t normally leave her cardigans undone, and she only ever fastened more buttons if there was someone around who made her feel uncomfortable.

Once she was happy with the buttons, she carefully pulled the sleeves of her cardigan up to her elbows, in a well practised, neat and even matter. It almost looked like the cardigan was designed to be like that, after she was done with it. That was a trick Andi had taught her one summer, and Shelly was pretty much a pro at that now.

She quickly twisted her hair up into a decent enough bun, and blended out her eye make-up so she looked softer before checking herself over again. She actually… Almost looked work appropriate. To be honest, to those who didn’t know what the rest of her dress looked like, she probably looked fully work appropriate. Really, all she needed was a pair of her stockings, or tights or something but to be honest, she didn’t really feel like going through the effort of dealing with that. She’d just go one day without them. She’d be fine.

Shelly examined her reflection one more time. She was kinda impressed actually. She… She thought that she could probably get away with how she was dressed. Yeah. She could. The band would come to her defence if anyone said anything. They were all good like that. She grabbed a small cross body bag, threw a few things in it and grabbed Gerard’s coat before she headed to the room that she’d seen him head into to hang out with the others.

She knocked on the door and a few moments passed before Ray let her in with a small smile.

“I thought you wanted to change?” Frank said as the door closed behind her.

Ray returned to his seat as Shelly hung Gerard’s coat up on the hook on the back of the door.

“I did change!” She said, turning to face them. “I changed my mind about changing my clothes.”

Frank laughed and Gerard tried to hide a smile - (not so) secretly thrilled about this turn of events.

“No, I changed my shoes, hair and my make-up,” she shrugged a little before folding her arms. “I’m sure I can get away with doing my job like this.”

“You look gentler,” Mikey said, from his spot sitting next to Lux.

“Yeah,” Ray nodded. “You looked more… Fierce? Before.”

“You still look hot though.”

Shelly giggled, going a light shade of pink, before she blew their drummer a kiss. “Shushhhh Miss Lux, I’m technically a married woman.”

Gerard glanced up at this, looking between Lux and Shelly until Frank started speaking.

“I’m sure,” Frank grinned at both the women. “I’m sure an exception could be made here?”

Before Shelly had the chance to say anything, Lux had snorted slightly.

“Frank,” she said, shaking her head before smirking at him. “If anything ever happened, you would never ever know about it.”

Frank looked from Lux to Shelly, who just nodded once, confirming Lux’s words, and he pouted. “That’s… That’s most unfair.”

“Well, she’s right,” Shelly moved across the room to sit in one of the few empty seating spots - right next to Gerard. “I don’t kiss and tell, Frankie.”

He blinked for a moment before an idea hit him and when he spoke, he sounded hopeful. “How about kissing and showing?”

“No Frank,” both women said together.

Frank pouted more, Shelly laughed and Gerard just cleared his throat. That noise made Shelly glance over to him. It must’ve been a bit louder than he thought, because the rest of the band looked at him too.

“Excuse you,” he said gently, although there was a tiny, slight bit of a tone to his voice. “That’s my wife.”

Shelly hoped that she hadn’t gone too pink. Or that the others hadn’t noticed that she was actually blushing - she knew she was - because… Oh. Hearing him say that, with that edge of a protective tone in his voice? Damn. That was actually hot.

“Yeah she is!” Lux grinned.

Frank pouted again. “You sure you don’t want to share?”

Gerard just raised an eyebrow at Frank, which made Shelly giggle before she decided to play into it. She moved closer to Gerard and almost snuggled against him a bit. It did take Gerard by surprise, but it didn’t take him too long to wrap his arm around her waist.

“No,” he said. “I don’t want to share.”

“Me neither,” Shelly said with a nod. “I’m a Leo, Frankie, I’m a very loyal woman.”

Lux and Mikey glanced at each other and grinned.

“One day Shell,” Frank smiled at her. “One day.”

“You wouldn’t know what to do with her if she did take you up on the offer!” Lux said.

“And you would?”

"Oh, I can think of a few things!" Lux shrugged and grinned. “I’d certainly give it a go - I’m a fast learner!”

Frank looked shocked, actually. Mikey shook his head, Gerard snorted at the same time Shelly giggled and Ray just rolled his eyes a little bit.

Shelly waved it off before Frank could say anything else. “Did you guys finalise the setlist, or the order or the tracks for tonight?”

#She Speaks #She Writes #my fanfic #MCR fanfic #Gerard Way x OFC #IYMM

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snelbz · 2 years

Text

Starting Over {Ten}

Collab with @theladyofdeath.

Summary: Elide Lochan thought she had met the love of her life only to find out that he was not the man she thought he was. After her world starts falling down around her, she makes a move back to her childhood home in hopes of starting over. Although it’s the last thing she expected, she meets a man the exact opposite of her ex. With his help and that of her best friend, Aelin, she learns how to stand on her own two feet and take control of her life.

Starting Over Masterlist

Greece was beautiful.

Lorcan had never been but every thought he’d had about the little country had come to fruition. The hotel they were staying at was gorgeous, their room overlooking the beach.

The wedding had been perfect.

After eight months of planning, they got married outside at a venue with a massive hall that served as a chapel and an outside seating area surrounded by hanging lights. They ate and had a band that guided them all in dancing the night away. Elide had never looked so beautiful, dressed in white. Lorcan had never been as nervous as when he had stood before his future wife, in all her beauty, and spoke his vows.

He knew it was right, though.

Elide was the woman he was meant to spend the rest of his life with and right now proved it. After an absurdly long plane ride, they had checked into their hotel and were about to enjoy a week of paradise for their honeymoon.

Starting with going to the beach, per Elide’s request.

After changing and grabbing towels, they walked out of their hotel, straight out onto the beach, and headed for the chairs they’d rented for the week. Elide had said that if they were spending as much money as they were to be in Greece, she wasn’t going to be laying directly in the sand all week.

Lorcan was laying out Elide’s towel when he heard, “Oh, Lor, look!”

He turned, finding Elide holding out her phone to him. There was a photo of their black lab puppy on the floor next to the swing Rowan and Aelin’s eight-week-old son was in. Both of them were fast asleep.

“Best friends already,” he smiled.

“It was nice of them to offer to watch Hellas,” Elide said, spraying sunscreen on her legs. “Boarding him for a week would have been a fortune.”

Lorcan had bent down to grab down his water bottle from their beach bag, but as he stood back up, he saw Elide untying her top behind her back.

As she lifted the top over her head, he pulled both arms back by her sides and stepped in front of her. “What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” He asked, noticing that he may have brought her arms back down, but her bikini top had not fallen back into place. He could completely see her right nipple and the left was peeking out, the enticing swell of her full breasts on display.

Elide laughed, quietly. “This is a nude beach, Lor. I’m blending in with my surroundings and taking advantage of my chance to get a full body tan.”

Lorcan stared at her for a moment before looking over his shoulder. It was pretty late in the evening, the sun starting to set, and the beach wasn’t crowded by any means. Nonetheless, with those who were present, most were completely naked. When he looked back down at Elide in front of him, her top was long gone and she was untying her bottoms.

Lorcan hesitated.

“What?” she asked, grinning up at him. “When did you become the shy one? They’re just boobs.”

“They’re my boobs,” he muttered, glancing back over his shoulder. “And I’m not being shy.”

“Then join me,” she pleaded, untying the string that held up his shorts. “And they’re my boobs. I just let you play with them.”

He grabbed her wrist and she stilled as she looked up at him with raised brows. His eyes were grazing her skin, lingering as they trailed down her body on all of his favorite parts.

“If you pull these down, anyone who looks will be getting more than they bargained for,” he mumbled, as he pulled her wrist down far enough that she could feel the hardening of his length. “Pretty sure that’s frowned upon at nude beaches.”

Elide laughed as she laid back, sprawled out on her towel with not a thing covered. The sight of her didn’t help his current situation. “You’ve seen my body a million times. Surely you can control yourself just this once.”

“If you think that’s true, then you have no idea what you do to me,” he promised, laying down beside her. He got comfortable for nearly a minute before he was rolling on his side and draping his heavy leg across Elide’s waist.

She looked over at him. “Why do I have a feeling this isn’t for the cuddles?”

Lorcan sighed, pushing himself up on his elbow to look down at her. “I don’t want anyone else looking at that pretty pussy of yours,” he mumbled, and lust had filled his longing gaze. “Sue me.”

Elide’s eyes flared before she looked around them. “No one else has even looked in our direction, you jealous brute.”

Lorcan chuckled. “Jealous brute?”

“A fitting nickname, I think,” Elide said, but she was humored as she reached up to brush her thumb along his bottom lip. “Join me, Lor.”

He bit down on the top of her thumb, causing her to gasp and snatch her hand back. “Again, if these come off, it’s not going to end well.”

“I think it will end wonderfully,” Elide murmured, stretching her arms above her head, letting her hands hang over the top of the reclining chair. She bent one of her legs at the knee, baring herself just a little more—

Lorcan’s leg found a home between her legs. Eyes on him, she smirked. “So touchy.”

He groaned quietly, the hand that was draped across her abdomen now rubbing smooth circles with his fingertips across her soft skin. “This is torturous.”

“I’m having a great time,” Elide said, simply, and he knew that her cheerful tone was meant to mock him. “I had a plan.”

Lorcan snorted. “Yeah? And what’s that?”

Elide nodded. “My plan is to drive you completely mad with lust, so by the time we make it back to the room, your rough side comes out.”

Lorcan’s fingers stilled on her abdomen. “When am I not rough?”

There were times he wasn’t as rough with her, although those moments were rare. They were sweet, though, when he was gentle. Yet, as sweet as those rare moments were, Elide loved it when he was rough, and he damn well knew it.

There were a few times, though, when that roughness of his snapped every tether holding him together and Lorcan was completely unleashed.

Elide stayed quiet until Lorcan looked up at her, curiosity and desire brewing in his dark eyes, then she said, “I want to wait until you’re so full of want and need that you are completely and utterly untamed when you fuck me.”

“We could go back to the room right now and I can make good on that,” he promised, eyes impossibly dark in the setting sun. “Just say the word.”

She settled back on the chair, her eyes closed, the sunset gilding her skin in gold. Her arms were still stretched above her head, which left her breasts on full display. “I’m good here for now, enjoying the sound of the waves, the smell of the ocean.” An eye cracked open. “You’re more than welcome to head back if you want.”

Like hell would he leave her out here.

“I’m fine,” he said, his hand starting to make its way up her abdomen, towards her exposed breast.

A couple walked by hand in hand, heading for the hotels at their backs. Elide gave them both a friendly smile, which they returned.

“See?”

She looked at Lorcan, finding him scowling at the man’s back. “What?”

“He was staring at your tits,” Lorcan said, turning back to look at her and then to the offending body parts. His eyes lingered.

Elide snorted. “If he was, then so was his wife.”

“What?” Lorcan’s head snapped back to where the two were retreating, as if he was just realizing the man had been with somebody.

“Believe it or not,” she breathed, lips hy his ear, “not everyone wants to see my tits or my pussy. Just you.”

“There are plenty of others, trust me,” he said, but he’d pulled his leg back onto his own beach chair, leaving Elide to lay on her own chair unimpeded. “You’re fucking gorgeous, you have amazing tits, and the prettiest pussy on the planet. Everyone wants to look at you.”

Rolling her eyes, Elide sat up. “How about a swim?”

His eyes flicked from where they lay now to where the water was. It was a pretty big expanse of sand. He didn’t answer quickly enough, apparently, so Elide stood, stretching.

Gods, she was beautiful and her body was perfect.

Lorcan groaned at the sight and stood up. Smiling, Elide reached for the strings of his trunks, pulling them loose again. “Live a little, Lor.”

He couldn’t help the small smile that consumed him as she pushed his shorts down until they were around his ankles in the sand. He had controlled himself enough that he didn’t fear getting kicked off the beach, but Elide’s eyes still trailed down his body and lingered on his impressive length.

“Alright,” he said, sighing as he pushed Elide’s hair out of her face. “Let’s get this over with.”

Elide laughed, eyes meeting his as she was about to reply with a witty remark, but before she could speak, Lorcan had picked her up. He cradled her in his arms as he walked down to the water, her arms going around his neck as he hurried through the sand.

He wandered into the water and, when it was waist high, he dropped Elide.

She went down under the water, laughing and cursing his name as she disappeared. She had her revenge, though, when she came back up and splashed him until he was drenched and pulling her into his arms.

As the sun went down in Greece, Lorcan held his wife in the water and kissed her, slowly, until the stars came out.

————

Lorcan was laying on the bed, the double doors of their suite open to the beach outside. The gauzy curtains were floating in the warm breeze off the water and he could hear the waves crashing. The two of them had stayed in the water until they were the only ones left on the beach. They’d gathered up their things and walked back to their room hand in hand and then Elide had announced they both needed showers.

They’d taken one together, Lorcan’s hands lingering here and there, constantly trying to get her to turn and kiss him. She hadn’t, had efficiently washed her hair and body, telling him to do the same. As the conditioner was soaking in her hair, and he’d finished up, she’d kicked him out of the steaming shower and told him she’d be right out.

Ten minutes later, he’d pulled on a pair of boxer-briefs, she was still locked in the bathroom and he was going to fall asleep if she didn’t hurry.

He heard the bathroom door unlock and sat up.

Every second he’d waited was worth it, he decided, looking at Elide. “Where did that come from?”

She blushed, glancing down as her fingers danced along the hem of the sheer, white nightgown she wore. He could tell she was completely bare beneath it. “I had to have some bridal lingerie.”

Her wearing lingerie had been a rarity, and there was something utterly special when she did wear it. He loved her being nude and loved her in his old shirts, but the teasing, thin fabric of the lingerie did something different to his body.

“You look beautiful,” he said, and had never meant anything more.

She smiled, approaching the bed nonchalantly. He tracked those slow moments, eyes grazing her body as she walked towards him. He met her at the foot of the bed and took her hands in his.

“I love you,” he said, eyes not leaving hers. “I love you so much, and the fact that you’re my wife…” His words trailed off as he shook his head. “It’s too good to be true.”

A swell of emotion flooded her body as she stepped closer to him, between his legs, and his arms went around her body. She ran her fingers through his damp hair. She knew that feeling, the feeling of what they had being too good to be true, the happiness and overwhelming joy that she had knowing who she was loved by.

“I love you,” she breathed, and climbed onto his lap, straddling his waist. She could surely feel him already hardening between her thighs. “My husband.”

They hadn’t been able to help themselves, during the time between the ceremony and the reception, and had quickly consummated the marriage in a room off the kitchens of the venue they had rented. But since then, they’d been on planes and in rental vehicles and Lorcan hadn’t been able to properly take his wife to bed. Which was a damn shame.

His hands smoothed up her thighs, lingering on the curve of her ass, before leaving goosebumps in their wake on her arms. He framed her face with his hands and said, “You’re my future. No matter what happened in the past, it brought you to me and me to you.”

Elide’s reply was barely more than a whisper before the lips met. “Forever.”

It didn’t matter how many times it had happened before or how long it had been, every time his hands were on Elide’s body, Lorcan lost all sense of himself. His tongue swept into her mouth, tasting, teasing, taunting, and Elide responded in kind. Her thighs tightened around his, the fingers on his bare shoulders squeezing as she found herself in his kiss.

Lorcan’s rough fingers wove into her hair and all lingering exhaustion had vanished. Now, all he could focus on was her and everything she had to offer him and he could offer her in kind. With every intention of flipping her over and running his mouth, his tongue, all over her body, he tightened his arms around her waist but Elide had a different idea in mind. Palms against his chest, she pushed Lorcan back and bent down to press her lips to the side of his neck, where she began trailing those little kisses down his neck, his chest, his abdomen. The second his eyes shut, he opened them again, not wanting to miss a second of whatever it was she was about to do.

Elide settled herself on the floor between Lorcan’s legs and tugged his boxer briefs down. He shifted, allowing them to disappear.

His hard length greeted her and she took it grasped it in her hands, making Lorcan let out a harsh breath.

“I thought I was supposed to be the one fucking you,” he said, watching as she leaned in closer to the head of his cock. “Untamed.”

She met his eye and smiled, sweetly. “You can start by fucking my mouth,” she said, and sucked in just the tip, swirling her tongue around the head as Lorcan cursed.

He let her play for a few minutes, leaning back on his elbows on the bed, watching her. He let her tease him with her tongue and hands, waiting until he noticed her rubbing her thighs together, knowing it was affecting her just as much as it affected him. One of his hands gathered her hair at the back of her head and those dark eyes met his, so full of love and lust and passion and an overwhelming need for him that his hips lifted of their own accord.

Elide gagged quietly, not expecting the sudden intrusion, but then her eyes fell closed and she scooted her knees in closer to the end of the bed. When her hand squeezed his thigh, her pretty, painted nails digging into his skin, he knew she was ready. This time, when his hips jerked up, they met no resistance, just the hot, wet envelopment of her throat around his cock. Lorcan groaned as he did it again and again, letting his other hand cup her cheek, her eyes fluttering open, watching him.

He knew a lot of women hated this, being on their knees for their men, thinking they were being used, but Elide thrived on it. She knew that even though she was the one on her knees, she owned every inch of Lorcan, that he was at her mercy, not the other way around.

With her eyes on him, Elide opened her throat, taking him as deeply as she could, until her red lips were wrapped around the very base. Shuddering, Lorcan swore, until he noticed her hand moving between her legs.

He was caught, conflicted on which to watch. The beautifully erotic image of her with all of him in her mouth, down her throat, or that delicate hand of hers between her legs, pleasing her throbbing clit in slow, needy circles with her fingers.

His eyes flicked back and forth between the two as Elide’s head started bobbing, yet again, taking him deeply with each pass. The curses flowing out of his mouth were low and filthy, and judging by the whimpering and the quickened pace of her fingers, his wife thrived on that filth.

His wife.

His fingers in her hair tightened and he pulled her head back again to meet her gaze. She gasped and when he thought he may have pulled too hard, her earlier words came back to him.

I want to wait until you’re so full of want and need that you are completely and utterly untamed when you fuck me.

An ache settled in his very core that only one thing could take away.

“Get up,” he ordered, and her eyes ignited with pleasure at the sudden command.

Elide rose once his fingers left her hair and she stood in front of him, patiently, awaiting his next command.

He stood as well, so close that the tip of his cock dragged up her belly, beneath the fabric of her pretty, little nightgown.

Lorcan reached down and toyed with the hem of the nightgown. “How angry will you be with me if I tear this off of you?”

Elide’s eyes were locked on his, her hands by her side. Her voice was unwavering. She was as ready for him as he was for her. “Very.”

“Then you’d better get it off.” His words were short, sharp, but not harsh. “Now.”

There was a glint in Elide’s eyes that told him she may have wanted him rough and commanding, but she wasn’t feeling very submissive.

Still, she clearly liked the short nightgown enough to not want it in shreds, and took his advice to remove it. She did it slowly, making sure his eyes followed the fabric as she lifted, exposing first her sex, then her toned stomach, and finally, her breasts, before pulling it over her head and tossing it to the floor.

“Good girl.” Lorcan ran his thumb over her lips, then trailed it down to her breast, rolling a taut nipple between it and his forefinger. “Did you like having me in your mouth?”

Her back arched into his touch. “Yes.”

His free hand cupped her other breast. “Enough that you started touching yourself?”

Hearing her breathing hitch, he smiled, and gently pinched her nipple. She gasped, “Yes. You should touch me now.”

“Should I?” He pinched harder and she gripped his hip, gasping just a bit louder. She nodded and he hummed. “On your knees on the bed.”

Stepping around him, Elide crawled on the bed, but Lorcan stopped her with just a knee on the mattress, giving her a searing kiss. “I love you.”

Her eyes softened. “I love you, too.”

His hand cracked against her ass and he smirked as she narrowed her eyes at him. “Get your ass up there.”

Elide did as she was told, crawling further up the bed. She felt the bed dip behind her and was about to demand he touch her again, when she felt his mouth on her, his tongue parting her folds and delving into her center. Moaning, Elide’s arms buckled as he gripped her ass, spreading her as wide as he could, fucking her with his tongue.

Gods, he loved the way she tasted.

Elide didn’t have a chance to breathe, hardly had a chance to do anything other than fall quickly into that place of pure ecstasy. His tongue played with her, plunging deep inside of her, sucking and nipping and licking until her knees were shaking and she was digging her nails into the bed sheets for any sort of relief from the building intensity within her core.

She cried out his name and Lorcan groaned, the sound muffled, his mouth still occupied as she could no longer contain herself. Elide came, and Lorcan did not stop until she grew silent, until her body relaxed.

Heart beating wildly, Elide rolled onto her back and looked up at Lorcan, who sat on the bed on his knees, lips gleaming with her release. He licked those swollen lips and brushed his thumb along his chin, wiping his skin clean before bringing his thumb to his mouth and sucking off what he could.

The sight made Elide’s body tremble before him.

“I didn’t say you could turn over,” Lorcan said, slowly shaking his head.

She could see the playful glint in his eyes and lifted herself up into a sitting position before meeting him in the middle of the bed, on her knees. Her fingers ran down his broad chest and abdomen before brushing along the length of his hard cock. “But I can’t ride you if I’m on my hands and knees,” she said, quietly, those fingers continuing to move in teasing strokes.

He caught her chin in his fingers and tilted her face up. “You can ride me, just as long as you remember how this night is going to end.”

She put a hand on his chest, pushing him down until his back was on the mattress. “Why do you think I want to ride you?”

As soon as she swung one of her legs over him, Lorcan’s hands were on her hips. Reaching between them, Elide grasped his cock, stroking him as she rose up on her knees, guiding him to her entrance. As she leaned down, stopping just shy of touching her lips to his, she sank down, until just the swollen head was in her. Lorcan’s curse was low and vicious and her pussy clenched in response. “How long can you stay like this?” She asked, their lips brushing. Rocking back, just enough to take another inch, she breathed, “How long will it take for your control to snap?”

“I guess you’ll find out.” He flexed his hips, just enough to slide a bit more into her hot center.

Elide groaned, kissing his neck as she slid down his cock, bit by bit, never giving him more than an inch or two before she rocked back up on her knees. He behaved for the most part, until her teeth dragged across his collarbone at the same time she squeezed her inner muscles.

“Fucking gods,” he hissed, those hands at his hips digging into her skin. Every muscle in his body twitched, every thought from his mind disappeared. All he could think about was fucking her senseless, getting her to scream his name again. If she wanted untamed, he would give it to her and then some.

His love.

His one and only.

His wife.

He rolled them with no warning, pinning Elide beneath him and slammed into her, every hard, thick inch, and Elide’s moan was the most erotic thing he’d ever heard. He rose up on his knees, gripping her waist, arching her back, and thrusting into her again and again, watching her tits bounce with every move he made. Her hands were twisted up in the sheets, searching for purchase anywhere she could get it. He pounded into her harder and harder, relentless in his need to make her cum.

“Touch yourself,” he growled, knowing how close she was, hearing it in the desperate moans and whimpers that left her parted lips. He needed her to be just as undone as he was, wanted her wild and needy and begging for him to fuck her as hard as he could.

Her movements were already frantic when she began circling her clit, gripping Lorcan’s wrist with her other hand. It took only a minute before her whimpers turned into moans, his name on her lips like a boon.

And then he pulled out.

As her ass fell onto the mattress, her head snapped up. Her eyes were wild when they found his. “I was so close.”

Smirking, he stroked himself, knowing her gaze would drop right to his cock. It was glistening in the dim light, coated in her wetness, and Elide watched, chest heaving. “I know. On your stomach.”

She obeyed, flipping over and looking over her shoulder at him, her ass perked up in the air a bit, just how she knew he liked it. Lorcan grabbed one of the pillows, folding it in half and stuck it beneath her hips. He covered her body with his, lacing their fingers together, pinning them to the bed above her head. The metal of their wedding bands clinked together as his cock nudged at her entrance.

“Tell me what you want,” he breathed, lips at her ear.

Elide tried to sink back into him but he wouldn’t allow it. His dark chuckle was warm against her ear.

He said, again, “Tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

Her hands in his tightened. ”I want you to fuck me,” she said. “Now.”

The final word had barely gotten out of her mouth when he thrust himself into her, all the way in until there was nothing more to give. He rammed his cock into her waiting cunt over and over, again and again. His body remained pressed against hers, their hands clasped. His thrusts were rough, there was no gentleness in the way he fucked her, and Elide’s throaty response proved that was exactly what she had wanted.

“Lor,” she cried, and her body trembled beneath him. “Lor, gods—“

His teeth scraped along the back of her neck and she cried out. He could feel her clenching around him, could tell her release was coming soon, and even though he didn’t want it to be over, he thrived on the sounds she made, thrived on the way her body reacted to his.

Lorcan pushed himself up on his knees and pounded into her, hands gripping her hips as her legs shook on both sides of him.

As Elide fell over the edge, his name a hoarse cry that he felt in his very soul, Lorcan tumbled right along with her, finding her mouth in a savage kiss as his hips bucked and jerked, spilling every last drop of his essence into her. His arms and knees gave out at the same time, collapsing onto the bed so he wouldn’t crush her.

Breathing heavily, he gathered Elide in his arms and pulled her halfway on top of him, one hand buried in her hair, the other palming the curve of her ass. He kissed her, soft and slow, nothing like the brutal joining they’d just had, and felt her relax in his arms.

She pulled back, eyes glazed and sleepy. “That was…” Apparently, there were no words to explain how great it had been, because her lips were on his again and Lorcan was groaning. His cock was already growing hard again, but they needed to sleep.

It seemed Elide was feeling the same, because she pulled back, covering her mouth as she yawned. It was adorable and made him yawn, too.

She pulled his hand to her lips, kissing his wedding band. “We should get some sleep.”

“We should,” he murmured, reaching down without letting go of her and tugging the blanket over them.

She tried to sit up, but his arms were right around her. Elide laughed. “Lorcan, I need to clean up.”

“Shhh…” His eyes were already closed, his grip not letting up.

Elide’s laughter continued as she shook her head. “You’re just going to let me go to bed covered in your cum?”

“Mhmm.”

“It’s on you, too.”

“Mhmm.”

“I can’t sleep until I wash up,” she said, nipping at his jaw.

“Ow,” he laughed, eyes flying open when her teeth caught his skin. “Brutal, and we’ve only been married for a day.”

Elide’s eyes softened as she leaned up to get a good look at him.

Her husband.

Her future.

“Married for a day and a lifetime to go,” she said, and then she was kissing him again, those lingering touches coming so naturally that it was hard to stop.

They eventually got up and washed their bodies off, brushed their teeth, and did everything else that needed to be done to get under the blankets and feel comfortable.

As they climbed back in bed, Lorcan pulled Elide close to him and wrapped his arms around her small frame with nothing but their skin between them. “I love you, Mrs. Salvaterre,” he murmured, in her ear, pressing the softest of kisses just below her ear.

The thrill that shot through Elide at hearing her new last name was all consuming and she couldn’t stop her grin as she turned towards her husband and laid her palm on his cheek. “I love you, Mr. Salvaterre.”

Lorcan kissed her, this strong, beautiful woman who came crashing into his life. “Always.”

Sliding her fingers into his hair, Elide rested her forehead against his. “And forever.”

#the end #elorcan starting over #elorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #lorcan lochan #elide x lorcan #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass #sjm #snelbz x the lady of death collab #snacmc collabs

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heliads · 1 year

Text

In the Future

Based on this request: "A oneshot for Jojo with a marriage pact, like if we're both single by the time we're (age) we'll get married"

masterlist

It is late by the time you finally manage to make it to the fire escape. Third floor of the Manhattan newsies’ lodging house, on the side facing the west, two windows down. Same one as always. Same boy as always waiting for you there, too.

You have enough time to flash him an apologetic smile as you slide into a seat next to him. Jojo has been many things at many different times– insufferable, quick to a temper, prone to flights of fancy– but forever your best friend. That’s why you know enough to expect forgiveness for your tardy arrival even before he opens his mouth to speak.

Jojo’s still going to give you a hard time, at least for a minute or two. That’s just what he does. That’s what the two of you do, what you have done since the moment you met in this very same lodging house and what you’ll probably keep doing until one of you gets stuck in the Refuge for good or manages to move out of this city.

He arches a brow. “Y/N, do you know what time it is?” He asks it casually enough, but you can tell from the sarcastic glint in his eyes that Jojo isn’t just posing this question for fun.

“Half past six,” you admit begrudgingly.

Jojo’s eyes widen comically. “Is that so? Crazy. I thought we agreed to meet at half past five. You know, like we do every single day.”

You groan. “Oh, lay off already. I was busy.”

Usually, you’re as carefree as could be after work lets out, just like any other newsie worth his coin. Today, however, your tone is a little strained, your face a little exhausted. You try to hide it, but you should have known that you wouldn’t have that much luck.

Jojo leans forward. “What’s wrong?”

Straight to the point, just like always. You do your best to push off the inevitable for the time being, even if you have a feeling this tactic of distraction won’t work out. “Nothing. I’m great. Say, did you see Race? I think he said he stole a fresh box of cigars, maybe we should investigate–”

Jojo cuts you off with a sharp look. “You’se hiding something. Don’t think I don’t see it. Can you cut to the chase and tell me already?”

You shrug, the picture of innocence. “Nothing is wrong. I’m just a normal person behaving normally.”

Jojo sighs exasperatedly. “Y/N.”

“Jojo,” you repeat back, just as deadpan, “okay, fine. It’s just the job, that’s all. A pair of newlyweds had the brilliant idea to use newspapers as confetti for their wedding today, seeing as it’s a cheap source of paper. I was delivering the papes to them this afternoon.”

“That doesn’t seem too bad,” Jojo says cautiously.

You nod. “Yeah, and it shouldn’t have been bad, but something about seeing everyone together at the chapel, so happy, it reminds me that I’m never going to get something like that. I’m not stupid, Jojo. I know my prospects or whatever aren’t the brightest. I don’t have a dowry, I don’t have parents who are going to pay me through a nice ceremony. It just sucked watching those people be so successful when I know that’s never going to be me.”

Jojo frowns. “I know what you mean. We doesn’t have enough money to be that carefree.”

The two of you sit in saddened silence for a while before Jojo’s eyes light up again. “Wait a minute,” he declares, “I have an idea. A really good one, in fact.”

You grin. “What kind of good idea?”

Jojo stands, starting to pace back and forth across the narrow fire escape. You tuck your legs up to your chest so you’re out of his way.

“Hear me out,” he says slowly, “what if we get married? Not now, of course. Just, you know, if nothing happens. We can get tax benefits and all that stuff Katherine keeps talking about in her articles. If we’se both on our lonesome by the time we’re older, we get married. Easy as that.”

You think you might be hallucinating. “Jojo,” you murmur faintly, “you can’t actually be serious about this. Us. Getting married.”

“Yeah,” he answers, “And? It would work out. Just as a last ditch answer, obviously. I’m not, uh, doing it for any other reason. And it wouldn’t be for a very long time. Maybe you’d be on your deathbed or something.”

You snort. “I’m not getting married if I’m minutes from death.”

Jojo shrugs. “Then we do it earlier. What do you say?”

You stare at him in vague bewilderment until it dawns on you that this isn’t the worst idea, all things considered. You can only be a newsie so long, you can’t only live in the lodging house forever. At least renting some shoddy place in ‘Hattan would be easier if you had a lawfully wedded husband and all that nonsense.

At last, you swallow back your laughter and reach out your hand in mock solemnity. “Alright, then. We’re getting married at some point in the future.”

Jojo’s grin is as bright as any you’ve ever seen, and he shakes your hand with equal gravity. “Sounds like a deal to me.”

You’re not sure what to expect in the aftermath of that particular conversation. Jojo asserted that the wedding would only happen in the distant future, but it would still definitely be happening, and that’s really more than you expected in the first place. Would he act as if nothing changed, or either better or worse, like everything had changed?

At first, it seemed as if life would be normal. You go to work, you sell your papes, you talk with Jojo late into the evening just like any other day. It takes about a week or so before you start noticing the small differences in Jojo’s usual character, changes that most certainly only began to occur after that agreement happened.

The first sign comes on a Tuesday morning. You’re in line to get your papers to start the day, idly chatting to a few of your friends, when you realize that something is off.

Albert has his arm around your shoulder, complaining about how Race nearly decked him for no reason the other day just because he tried to sell at Sheepshead. When the redhead takes a breath, you whisper something to him, careful to ensure that no one else can overhear you.

“Is it just me, or is Jojo staring at us?”

Albert takes a surreptitious glance around, then nods. “No, you’re definitely right.”

Across the square, Jojo has his arms folded across his chest. He’s glaring at you and Albert, practically radiating fury. The only problem is that you have absolutely no idea why your friend is upset.

“Neither of us did anything to upset him, right?” You ask cautiously.

Albert shakes his head. “Last I checked, yeah. Maybe someone’s framed us.”

You chuckle at that. “Makes enough sense to me.”

The two of you have reached the front of the line, and Albert disengages his arm so you can go ahead and pay for your papers. You wave goodbye to Jojo when you pass him on your way out, and, funnily enough, the other boy looks far happier the second Albert is no longer within your line of sight.

A similar thing happened two days later. This time, you’re out selling papers in the streets of Manhattan, hawking your best (often false) headlines in the hopes of turning a profit. Buttons is right by your side, your selling partner since the very beginning.

This time, Buttons is the one to notice first. He taps you on the shoulder as you come back from selling a pape. “Why is Jojo looking at me like he wishes I was dead?”

You turn around, following the boy’s line of sight around a neighboring street corner. Jojo had been lingering by a streetlight, and although he quickly ducks into a shop to avoid detection, you’ve already seen him. More specifically, you saw the cold stare he was directing towards Buttons, the exact same look he’d been giving Albert the other day.

You shrug. “I have absolutely no idea. Let me guess, you haven’t done anything to upset him?”

“Yeah,” says Buttons, “he was talking to me like nothing happened this morning. Weird.”

“Weird indeed,” you agree.

By the third instance of this different attitude, you’re starting to get annoyed. It's been a week since the first time you noticed Jojo acting oddly. You’re in the lodging house after managing to sell all of your papers. Jojo walks in while you’re laughing over the day’s exploits with a group of friends. Usually, he’d stop to talk to you, but this time he walks straight by as if he doesn’t see anyone there. He gives you a polite wave, but nothing else.

Had it happened any earlier, you probably would have just brushed it off as the result of a hard day, but this time you’re mad. Jojo is treating you weirdly and you’re sick of it. You bid a quick goodbye to your friends and walk quickly after him.

Jojo looks surprised when you follow him into an empty hallway, but you’re not letting anything come in between you and some answers.

“What is this about?” You ask pointedly.

Jojo does his best to look innocent. “What are you talking about?”

You fold your arms across your chest. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. You’ve been acting oddly for days now. Did you know that some of our friends have started asking if they did something wrong? You’re treating them like they’re monsters and they have no idea why. Neither do I, for that matter.”

Jojo flushes and looks away. “That’s not– I’m not mad at them.”

“Then why are you behaving like this?” You question him.

His gaze snaps back to you. “Because they’re getting too close to you. I mean, you saw Albert that day, he had his arm around you and everything. Maybe I just don’t like that.”

You scoff. “I’m allowed to talk to my friends, Jojo. Last time I checked, we’re not getting married for another decade or two.”

“Don’t bring up that agreement,” he says heatedly, “that was for me. A last resort if I couldn’t tell you how I felt. If all else failed, that would work. I don’t know why I bothered, though, because you clearly seem way more interested in every other boy here.”

You stare at him. “Wait, you were going to tell me how you felt?”

Jojo looks unhappy, but it’s not as if he can get out of this now. “I like you,” he says simply, “I thought you already knew, but there. I do. Problem is, you don’t feel the same way.”

“Well,” you reply slowly, “who ever said anything about that?”

Now it’s his turn to be in shock. “What?”

You lift a shoulder. “Don’t be that surprised. I mean, come on, I spend way more time with you than anyone else. Surely you noticed that.”

“I’m noticing it now,” Jojo excuses himself.

You laugh. He’s certainly got all the time in the world to think about it now. You’re happy, he’s happy, and nothing could possibly be better.

newsies tag list: @lovesanimals0000, @misguidedswagger, @thatfangirl42, @amortensie

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roccinan · 4 months

Note

If the timeline in Berlin spin off is in 2013. So it is after the Chapel scene where andres left Martin.

So it was after his Fifth Marriage and divorced. Because he didn't marry Camille. He was just having a short affair, so she didn't become wife number 6th. I think that kind of make sense. You know, the absence of Martin.

But looks like Andres didn't suffer anything. He looks like some asshole ready to fall in love again. The way I see it, Andres didn't really love Martin. He loves the idea of being in Love. He always have to be in love. And that's why. Martin asked him if he can love him, but andres said no. because he knows the friendship would be ruined, because falling in love for him were like a short vacation, and he liked Martin as a friend, the idea of having romance with Martin would be like the other women he has ruined and left. so he refused, because he valued his platonic friendship with Martin.

And he was a homophobic. He's not gay. Looks like straight laced, traditional man. A misogynistic towards everything. I can see that clearly. He's just an entertainer, a playboy, who like to flirt here and there with everyone, giving them the wrong signals. And also a true Sociopath who really didn't feel any guilt, or remorse. That is scary. It's just my opinion. I hope you don't mind me sharing here. 🙏🏻

But perhaps I was wrong about the timeline. And I hope I was. Because I was hoping this spin off is before he met Martin.

Hold your horses, anon! That's my wife- Andres de Fonollosa- you're slandering here!

But seriously though LOL Fortunately anon, I can assure you that you are wrong about the timeline. No matter how fucked up the math is, it's physically impossible for the spinoff to take place after Andres' 5th marriage because:

Andres consistently had a receding hairline in lcdp (both present and flashbacks), so the only reason they gave him a whole new hairline/style in the spinoff was to make him look years younger

Andres was already diagnosed with helmer's myopathy when he married Tatiana, or at least during their marriage, and in the spinoff, he explicitly says this particular story takes place before he had any indication of illness

Andres went to jail immediately after divorcing Tatiana, and then immediately when to Toledo with Sergio after his release, and by then he was already taking morphine injections every day (none of this fits linearly with how healthy he is in the spinoff)

Whether or not Camille becomes wife 4 is up in the air, but we can be certain Tatiana came along AFTER her. So Martin not being in the spinoff most logically means Andres just didn't know him yet. Also might be giving the writers too much credit, but a lot of Andres' behavior tells us he doesn't have Martin in his life yet-

Losing his nerves when Damian jokes about sleeping in his bed (whereas he himself was happily crawling into bed with Martin in lcdp)

Getting mad at Roi for the 3 kisses thing (but letting Martin tie his bowtie in public, and instead of getting mad at Martin, he attacks the man who laughed at them for it)

This is definitely an Andres desperate to be seen as straight LOL and everything he does comes off as a pre-Martin Andres given how much he waxes about nobody understanding his love, blah blah blah He doesn't have a Martin to go "you're so right babe, I support you <3" by his side, just Damian.

I agree with your reason for why Andres "rejected" Martin though. He loves the idea of being in love, but he was never truly IN love with a woman, let alone a man. And he loves Martin & his friendship with Martin too much to risk ruining that. In other words, like Martin said, he was afraid to let their relationship become anything more.

Hmm, I do think Andres can feel remorse though. We've seen him mention regrets. It's guilt he claims he can't feel. But ironically, for all his macho bravado, I don't think Andres is homophobic. He wouldn't have been best friends with Martin otherwise. And just my opinion too, but I think Pedro always played Andres as bi, not gay, not straight LOL.

#anonymous #and to be fair I don't think Andres ever flirted with anyone he wasn't interested in #if anything his problem is giving as many signals as possible to whoever he wants to sleep with #berlin 2023

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writefasttalkevenfaster · 3 years

Text

Dancing With Our Hands Tied (Part Two)

Series: Undercover Hotch fic/series™

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Word Count: 4,408 | Rated: T | Warnings: swearing, discussion of domestic abuse, possibly compromising positions(?), an almost kiss

Tropes: bedsharing, fake married, mutual pining

Chapter Summary: after holding hotch's hand for a few minutes, it wouldn't be a problem to hold it for most of the morning? because now the retreat gimmicks begin as the two of you search for information while dealing with the events.

A/N: sorry for the delay on part two -- had some family things going on this month <3. look out for part three :) Thank you to @bucky-of-the-opera for always letting me bounce ideas off of her and generally being amazing.

“Where do we start?”

The retreat lodge was larger than you imagined — with sprawling grounds that weren't just limited to the main lodging area where the couples stayed — but extended beyond to woods, hiking trails, and beyond. Hell, you glanced out the window at a nearby mountain, you wouldn’t be surprised if they owned a mountain as well.

“I have no idea,” you murmur, your arm intertwined with Hotch’s, as the two of you stepped into the lobby for the patented mix-and-mingle with the other couples before breakfast. Not only mind-numbing, soul-churning mingling — but with other couples with marital issues -- exactly what every vacation needs, “this place doesn’t seem big on technology — I haven’t seen a single computer or cellphone,”

“The front desk only has paper logs,” he shakes his head, “I asked about the lack of technology in the rooms. A noted policy of no tech — including the employees. I don’t think we are even allowed our cellphones after this breakfast.”

You scan the couples beginning to shuffle down now, “If there’s no tech here, where do you think they keep their guest and employee files?”

“I don’t think breakfast is ready yet, sweetheart,” he replies, as your gaze snaps to his cheeks burning, as you realize a couple approaching your six, “but I’m sure you won’t have to wait too much longer,”

“I’m right there with you,” the husband winks at you, his stomach shaking as he laughs even before he jokes, “if I don’t eat soon, I’m going to lose one of my only reasons for coming to this place,”

And something tells you it isn’t much of a joke either.

“But not the reason for coming here, isn’t that right, dear?” his wife assumedly smiles at you, icily, “Molly Chapman. It’s a pleasure to meet you, and you are?”

You introduce yourself, forcing a straight face on as you manage to say your alias, offering your hand, “This is my husband, Thomas,” as Hotch introduces himself to Molly’s husband, Harry, who claps your boss on the shoulder.

“So,” Harry leans in, almost clandestinely, “what are you two in for?”

“Harry!” Molly chastises him, but her eyes hook onto your expressions, her lips pursed in disapproval if only to hide her smile.

“Well, if it helps, me and the missus here need some help communicating,” he crosses his arms, shaking his head, “never learned much about that growing up,” and he elbows Hotch, “but I’m sure you can relate — we’re practically in the same generation,” And you nearly snort, trying and failing to hide your smile — which Hotch notes, as you see him shoot a small glare your way.

Harry and Molly don’t notice, too busy reprimanding her husband again, before she sighs, pinching at the bridge of her nose, “It’s just as well, we are all going to find out about each other’s problems anyway,”

And you furrow your brow, “I saw group therapy on the itinerary — is it mandatory?”

“It is,” Molly nods, “Dr. Rosen, the therapist who helped design the program, insisted on it — otherwise it would just be a vacation, not a couples retreat,” and she raises an eyebrow, “didn’t you read that in the paperwork when you signed up?”

“I did most of the paperwork,” Hotch intercedes, his fingers intertwining with yours, “my love here was busy wrapping up some loose ends for work so I ended up taking the lead on it,”

“Oh well now I know what’s wrong with you two,” Harry chuckles, as Molly elbows him again, half-heartedly, as he gestures to you, coffee in hand, “you wear the pants in the relationship, got that one wrapped around your finger, now don’t you? Not surprising, with the age gap and all--” as he looks you up and down, winking at Hotch, as you gape at him, “nicely done, sir.”

Your blood begins to boil, several insults picked out and fine-tuned on your tongue as you open your mouth, “Well—”

“We’re working on it,” Hotch clears his throat, jerking his head toward the now ready breakfast buffet, “Harry, it looks like—”

“Food’s on!” and he’s scurrying away to the table, as his wife follows suit, giving both of you a nod, as you glare at his retreating back.

“Food fucking saved his life,” and your eyes slide back to Hotch, as he gestures for you to head over to the breakfast table, “and so did you,”

“Well, I figured you murdering someone on our first day here would attract some unwelcome attention,” he steers you away from the direction of the Chapmans, his hand now slipping around your waist, and you do your best to ignore the flip of your heart, focusing on the fancy finger foods the retreat put out for breakfast, until you feel Hotch’s fingers drum on the small of your back, “do you see that?”

You glance at him, following his gaze until your eyes fall on a door that says ‘Employees’ Only’ around the corner, the manager slipping through the door, locking it behind him. You glance away nonchalantly, helping yourself to some mini-breakfast sandwiches and some fruit, “Do you think they keep the employee files?”

“Maybe,” he breathes in your ear, as he reaches over your shoulder to grab some food, making you shiver at the closeness, “but how do we—”

“Welcome!” a voice booms from the foyer, sweeping arms as he steps forward cutting through the dining room, “Please everyone take a seat. Help yourself to some breakfast.”

You both make your way to a table, and Hotch pulls out your chair for you, giving a small smile, as he takes his seat beside you.

“I hope you all are beginning to get to know each other, but that is not all you will be getting to know today,” he clasps his hands, he bared his teeth with his fake white smile, “I am Richard Rosen, and I will be guiding you through your time during this six-week retreat, where you are not only going to learn about our facilities, about mindfulness, and about yourselves,” his eyes scan the crowd smiling, “you’re going to learn about each other.'

Oh, how wonderful.

You had read up about this guy last night — went to Harvard — Harvard College in Indiana, and got his certification in Psychology after four weeks of surely intense training. After that, he opened his own practice in New York City, which folded after several complaints ranging from sexual harassment to fraud. Unfortunately for his clients (and fortunately for him), there wasn’t enough evidence to get his lack-luster certification yanked. He then moved from city to city, learning from his mistakes, and never stuck to the same city for long enough for someone to catch onto his treatment packaged charade. Until eventually, he settled upon White Mountains Retreat, where he was allowed to stay in one place, but with a revolving door of patients.

He was one of your suspects — no record, but had easy access to the couples, and intimate knowledge of their relationships.

"But our time will begin together tomorrow,” he beams at all of you, “Right now, I'm going to pass it over to the man who you will be coordinating your incredibly list of daily activities during your stay here — the man responsible for all the wonderful memories you will make — Mr. Brock Hillen," Rosen steps aside, welcoming Hillen to take over, and he doesn’t wait a beat, checking his watch before disappearing down a hall.

“Where’d he go?” you murmur, and Hotch shakes his head.

“I don’t know,” Hotch murmurs, lips barely moving, “but do you see that?”

And you spot cuts on Brock’s arms before he tugs the sleeve of his shirt down to cover it, “Could be consistent with causing those injuries our victims,”

And Brock Hillen was no less suspicious than Rosen — with a criminal record to match. With two charges of domestic assault, Hillen already had a history of violence with his ex-wife, but since she divorced him, he has had no other charges. Yet, because of his record, he went job to job, until he found himself as the Activities Coordinator of White Mountain. Could it be that his rage over his wife leaving him led to the murders? Maybe something in the last few weeks that triggered it.

“Hello all!” he greets, holding his arms out, his fake blonde hair nearly blinding under the bright light of the chandelier that hangs above him, “thank you Richard, for that all too kind introduction,” he begins his spheal on the healing nature of the resort, the efforts of his team in coordinating the next six weeks for them, and you begin to lose interest around his third sentence with the word “enchant” in it.

And your eyes can’t help but slide to Hotch a moment, whose arm rests on your lower back still, the metal of his watch gently pressed against your shirt, and you swear his thumb brushes against your spine. You almost want to brush it away, his touch is so gentle, so sweet, so intentional, but it wasn’t — it wasn’t.

“For our first event,” and now you’re blinking back to Brock — to the reason you were here — to catch a killer, “I’m going to have you do one of the very things that Richard mentioned — an activity that will allow you to you learn more about yourselves and each other,” and he gestures around you, “as well as the grounds themselves,” Other employees start handing the couples a clipboard, “your task will be to get each of your stamps from around the retreat — this obviously includes our grounds and other facilities, including our spa, chapel, gardens, and so on.”

“Seems like a perfect opportunity to look around,” you murmur — as Hotch takes the clipboard, flipping through the scavenger hunt -- at least there wasn’t some cheesy shtick to this activity.

“To symbolize the journey you all will be embarking on together as couples, you must complete the task hand-in-hand,” Brock brings his two hands together, “please, there will be staff all over the facilities, if you need a hint, feel free to ask, and I will be here as well to provide any assistance,” he gestures to employees behind the couples, “now, at the sound of the gong—”

At the sound of the what—

And then a loud crash fills the air, rattling your eardrums, making you jump, “Take each other’s hand, and begin!”

Couples begin scattering about, pulling each other along — you spot Molly dragging Harry away from the breakfast table.

And Hotch rises beside you, offering you his hand, clipboard in his other hand, “Ready?”

You glance from him to his hand.

Probably not, but— your fingers intertwine with his, his calloused fingers warm, and the cool metal of his band brushing against your skin—

“Ready.”

What other choice did you have?

~~~

“How many more do we have?” So far, the first few stamps have taken you all around the other facilities — the spa, the garden, the sauna — but none inside the retreat center itself. Not a single one had given you a change to find where the files were kept in this place.

“Two more left,” he murmurs, “I assume the last one will take us back into the main building, so the other must be—”

“At the chapel,” you glance at the map of the place you were handed by an employee who took pity on you two after you had wandered around the grounds — completely lost, “at least we don’t have to bother figuring out the riddles now,”

“You mean you don’t need to bother,” you shake your head, “i’m sorry, I��m just—”

“Are you okay?” he asks, as the two of you stroll towards the chapel, everyone else out of earshot, “the first day can be—”

“No, it’s not that,” you look around the grounds, and you resist the urge to flex your fingers, but he notices you tense — and you know he would drop your hand but he can’t, so he steps away a little, “It’s not you—”

“But it’s you?” he chuckles, as you bite your lip, “I know it’s a lot,” he sighs, as you two reach the chapel, a relatively small building built on top of a hill. It’s a white marble building, its one spire splitting the sky above it asunder, practically gleaming in the sunlight. The double mahogany doors are drawn open for the couples, another just leaving as you two arrive. You watch him stare up at the chapel, “it is for me too.”

You frown, as the employees at the entrance greet you, and direct you to sit near the front together for a few minutes — to take solace in the quiet before you receive your stamp. Hotch hands them the clipboard as you both wander down the aisle together.

The aisles are lined with white pews, light streaming through beautiful stained glass windows. Your footsteps echoed against the stone floor. You step and sit into the pew beside Hotch, sitting back a moment. The chapel itself had no denomination — it was clear it was made for the sake of religious and non-religious functions — likely an intentional choice not to exclude any religion or atheists for that matter.

After all, money was money in their eyes.

You two are quiet a moment, your hands still interlaced for the sake of the employees still watching the two of you, “I think for me,” your voice low, “it’s just weird to be this close with anyone,”

“You mean physically or?” you shrug.

“It’s part of it — it has been a while since I’ve shared a bed with someone,” you purse your lips, “but like you said, it’s hard for me to let someone see me, like all of me,” and you glance at him, “and it’s hard when you’re literally the leader of a team of, you know.”

“I know,” he leans against the back of the pew, “it’s impossible to hide things from the team even when when we don’t spend every minute with them, and now that we’re spending the all of the next six weeks together--”

“There won’t be much we can do to hide,” you nod, looking down at the floor.

And that was what scared you the most.

The employees hand you back the clipboard at that moment, excusing you both back, and the two of you step out of the chapel, “I just want you to know,” you say, as the two of you reach the bottom of the hill, “you don’t have to hide anything from me,” and he raises an eyebrow, as you add, “if you don’t want to.”

“Do most people hide anything because they really want to?”

“No I meant,” you chew your lip, “This is probably hard for you, and I don’t want to act like I know what you’re going through — I don’t,” you would never deign to think you knew what it was like to lose your the love of your life, your best friend, and mother of your child in one fell swoop, “but you don’t have to pretend,” not with me, you want to add, but you don’t — you can’t.

He blinks a moment, eyebrows raising only for a millisecond, before he sighs, “It’s easier to pretend,” he presses his lips together, as another couple approaches, “and that’s what we’re here to do,” and he begins to walk forward, gently pulling you along, as your cheeks burn, your head fixed on the ground, until he adds, “but I appreciate it,” and you meet his gaze, several emotions in his eyes, before he tears it away, “thank you.”

You don’t get to respond, as the two of you step inside to find only most of the couples still hadn’t returned yet — still collecting the last of the stamps, and most of the staff floating around the grounds to corral and nudge stragglers along. And their absence left an opportunity.

So you glance around, before tugging a distracted Hotch along, wandering around a corner, “What—”

And you grab him by the shoulder, pinning him to the wall, cheeks burning all the while, not daring to meet his gaze, but its just the same because you hear the small gasp of your name that leaves his lips in a whisper, and his body tenses against your palm.

You lean up closer, before slowly craning your neck around the corner, “We’re a couple at a retreat looking to sneak away,” you murmur, lips barely moving, as you lean closer, nose brushing his neck — god he smells good — but you refuse to let your lips brush against his skin, “or that’s what it will look like to anyone.”

His tenseness melts away, and he’s pliable to your touch, as your fingers graze his neck now, your thumb resting against his cheek, as he stares down at you — so adoringly as you tug him by the shirt away from the wall, following you with such ease.

You’re next to the employees only door — your fingers reach for the knob, turning — “It’s locked,” you murmur, and his brow furrows, as you cup his cheek, guiding his gaze to the lock.

And he’s spinning you around gently so that you’re pressed to the wall, your breath catching in your throat, as he looms over you, his fingers cupping your chin. His arm around your back, pulling your lower half close to him, but he’s holding the door knob in place while he tries to pick it with his other hand.

Your cheeks burn as he looks down on you, his gaze freezing you in place, far too close — his breath warming your lips, taking the breath from your lungs and replacing your blood with lava. And you can see so clearly — the cut of his jaw, the soft lines of his face, and the curve of his lips—

And then the lock clicks open.

He’s turning the knob, as you spare one glance over your shoulder to see if anyone sees either of you, but then the door is shutting behind you. You feel the wall for a light switch, and you flick it on, while you hear the click of the door locking again.

And you blink, a glorified break room — a few tables and a basic refrigerator stuck in the corner, a worn couch stuck against a wall, and a sink stuck in the corner with a subpar dish rack — far from the accolades that were in each guest’s room — but then again, the employees weren’t paying through the nose for the rooms.

You two stay close, as your eyes scan for anything that could be a camera — even one that isn’t obvious — placed in a smoke detector or lamp shade, “No cameras,” he pulls away, and you try to swallow the lump in your throat, tucking away the embarrassment to dwell on another time (likely right before when you’re trying to sleep).

But then again, the guests weren’t the ones working 18 hour shifts on their feet.

Hotch calls for you, pointing towards a few file drawers stuck in the corner, and the two of you head over, running your finger down the label on the drawers, “These are all client records — administrative, financial — nothing on the employees.”

“They must keep the employee records somewhere else that employees don’t have access to,” and you’re rifling through the folders, for something — anything.

“I haven’t seen any other employee areas,” you shut the drawers, and then you glance around, your eyes falling on another door in the corner of the room — “unless—”

“It must be Rosen and Hillen’s offices,” you walk over, reading the placard — Administration Offices, “locked?”

“This isn’t something that can be picked easily,” Hotch shakes his head, “it has a bump guard — it prevents—”

“--lock bumping,” and Hotch looks over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow, “I’ll tell you my reason if you you tell me yours,

He snorts, “I learned it sometime between 6th grade and military school,” and it’s your turn to raise your eyebrows, “my father — he—”

“You don’t have to—” you shake your head, “unless you want to—”

“I’ll just say, it wasn’t a good childhood,” he raises to his feet.

And you can’t help but give a small smile, “But look at how well you turned out,” and he’s shaking his head, shrugging his shoulders, “Hotch,” you make him meet your gaze, “you’re a good man — don’t doubt that.”

His eyes meet yours again, warm, as he looks away to the floor for a moment, the corners of his lips twitching, “Thank you,” he breathes, and he’s stepping forward, “I—”

And then the doorknob is jiggling. Your heads snap to the door, before looking back to each other.

Shit.

Before you know it, his wrist is around yours, and he’s tugging you to the couch, as you fall backwards onto the soft cushions. He’s halfway kneeling between your legs, his body draped over you, and he’s leaning closer, murmuring an apology as he lips draw close to yours, “Hotch—”

And then the door is opening, as his lips nearly brush yours, “Hey!”

An employee stares at the both of you, as you both stumble to your feet, adjusting your clothes, “This is employees only — what are you—”

“Sorry!” you yelp, jumping to your feet, “so sorry,” and you brush past them, Hotch following at your heels.

And the two of you find your way back to the lobby, your heart still in your throat, as you tug on your clothes, “Thanks for the —” your cheeks burn, “I mean, good thinking—” you shake your head, "you know what I mean."

He snorts, his fingers finding yours again, giving them a slight squeeze, "Anytime," and your heart oh-so-helpfully skips a beat, tongue-tied, but luckily you don't have to response as Hotch glances at you, "you never did tell me how you learned about lock picking."

You shrug, “I have a checkered past,”

“That’s not much of an answer,” and you shoot him a half-smile.

“I have to keep you interested somehow don’t I?” you reply right as Brock begins to speak again.

The event wraps up with another talk from Brock — who has an employee approach him towards the end of his talk, whispering in his ear, and he nods, waving him off, “and one last thing — I know you all came to rejuvenate your marriages and partnerships through this retreat and we fully encourage you to do so but—” you swallow thickly, realizing just which employee must have whispered in his ear right then, “please refrain from doing so in restricted areas that are not for our guests.”

You cannot even bear to look at Hotch, keeping your gaze straight ahead, grabbing a drink on the tray, and sipping at it — and you wondered if you were masking your mortification well.

Probably fucking not.

~~~

Brock then adjourns them for the rest of the day — not wanting to “overwhelm them” on day one (or rather padding their time here with nothingness) — welcoming them to have their meal in the dining facilities or up in the rooms.

Most people head off to their rooms, while others linger in the lobby — chatting amongst themselves — he spots Harry rushing off to the dining facilities, his wife in tow.

The rest of the day goes off without much to-do. Hotch glances around — not a single thing of note learned about the guests or the staff. The other couples are all sociable to some extent — some more reserved than others, but none of them fit the unsub’s types so far — placing you two directly in the paths of the unsub.

By the time it’s time for bed, his body is aching for nothing but sleep — and it looked like you had the same idea. Already slipped under the covers, you’re curled up, half-asleep as your eyes flutter heavy with sleep.

Neither of you felt the need to stand guard in the room — the doors were securely locked for each of the couples, and the team was monitoring the situation at the local precinct. But you both kept your weapons close by — concealed in case someone happened to find their way in.

“Are you asleep?” Hotch whispers, and you mumble, shaking your head, turning to glance at him — your shoulders tense and brow furrowed.

“Is something going on?”

And he shakes his head, “No, sorry,” and you relax back in bed, but your lips still pursed, “I just hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable earlier,” and you tilt your head — and he almost smiles at your sleep-induced confusion.

“Earlier?” and then it floods back to you — as you blink, glancing away from him, “oh—”

He shakes his head, “I just don’t want you to think I was—”

“Hotch, I know you weren’t,” you slowly sit up, “if you hadn’t done that, I think we would have been on our way home on our first day,” you chuckle, “and I know you wouldn’t take advantage — especially when we have a job to do.”

Right, a job, he chides himself, It was a job.

“If you want to sleep—”

“I’m not having this conversation again,” you yawn, turning around and getting comfortable again, “good night, Hotch.”

And he looks at you, a small sigh parting his lips — until he finally settles in bed beside you.

His arm resting across his forehead, he glances at you again. He had spent so much of today holding your hand, his fingers nearly flexing at the memory. It had been so long since he had held someone’s hand, so long since he had worn a ring on his finger, so long since he called someone his partner.

It felt so nice.

Nice — not only because he hadn’t realized how much he had missed having someone, someone beside him, someone there — but because —

Because it was you.

And he knew that because — he didn’t want to let go of your hand.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagines #criminal minds #criminal minds imagines #hotch imagines #hotch #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch fanfiction #fic: undercover

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mandoalorian · 3 years

Text

Believer [Dark!Din Djarin x F!Reader] *SMUT*

Summary: After two months since your last encounter, The Mandalorian returns to confession. (Part two of Sinner)

Rating: 18+ only

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, religion kink, confession box blowjob, sex in a place of worship, unprotected p in v, female receiving oral, fingering, dark!Din, rough sex, hints of degradation, teasing, orgasm denial, arranged marriage mention.

Word Count: 3000>

Masterlist

REBLOGS APPRECIATED!<3

It had been two months since your encounter with The Mandalorian, and you hadn’t seen him since. Even after your father returned from Naboo, Din remained absent from attending mass. You were beginning to believe you might never see him again, and yet, you clung onto hope. It was all you had. When your father went to bed, you’d stay in the chapel late, hoping he’d come in again. It was exhausting. Surely The Mandalorian still had sins to confess. Your biggest fear was that he was deliberately trying to avoid you. He had this dark aura to him, and so if his only intention that night was to wreck your innocence, you wouldn’t be surprised. The truth is, you’d let him do it a million times over.

You missed him. You missed his gruff nature and his bluntness, and you missed the sound of his voice, with or without the modulator of his helmet. And ah-- his helmet-- the shiny silver beskar. You missed that too, although your encounter with Din had left you yearning to know more. You wonder what he looked like underneath the helmet. You remember the dark trail of hair that started at his navel and led down to the waistband of his underwear. From that alone, you’d made the judgement that he’s probably brunette. You wondered how well groomed he was, whether or not he opted to be clean shaven or don facial hair. But most importantly, you wondered about his eyes. You believed that the eyes were the most telling feature about a person, and that they could hold a thousand secrets. Could they be blue, or green, or perhaps even the most beautiful shade of honey brown?

It was a Sunday night, just shy off two a.m., and you let out a tired yawn. You were beginning to think he’d never show again, and that you were foolish for waiting up so late. You had visions of the Mandalorian waltzing back into the chapel and rescuing from this lifestyle. You had dreams of him whisking you away and showing you the galaxy. So, on this particular night, when Din returned, you weren’t even sure if he was really him.

You weren’t sure how long he had been standing there for, leaning against the confession box, watching you drift in and out of sleep as you curled up on the front pew. His beskar clad arms were folded across his chest and his head was tilted slightly. He was eerily quiet, and when your eyes finally met his (through his visor, at least), his presence was ghost-like.

“Tired?” The Mandalorian asked, his deep, modulated voice breaking the silence. Although it was less of a question and more of an acknowledgement. He was the first to speak, and of course it was a typical cocky remark. You didn’t even realise how much you’d missed that side to him; the rude and degrading side. That was how you knew it was really him. You’d been a good girl your entire life; your mind was simply not equipped to make this stuff up. “Did you miss me?”

You rubbed your eyes and stood up from your seat on the pew, taking a second to process his presence. Did you miss him? You’d been touching yourself to the memory of his cock every single night since your encounter, and he had the audacity to ask if you missed him? Of course, you’d never willingly admit to that. Especially not to him.

When you didn’t reply, he stalked over to the front pew, his broad shoulders looming over you.

“Went back to visiting brothels,” Din revealed, bringing his gloved hand to your neck and giving it a small squeeze. “But they just don’t do it like you.”

“We aren’t in the confession box, Mando.” you snapped back, and his grip around you tightened as he chuckled. You nervously diverted your gaze from his and he raised his hand so he could grab your chin. He tilted it upwards, forcing you to look at him.

“Well, I’m here to confess.”

As you walked Din back over to the box, you noticed your panties were already slick with arousal. You’d anticipated this moment for months, but of course, you weren’t inclined to give into him that easy. You were excited though, hoping and praying that this would turn into more than just a typical confession session.

“State your name for the records.” you sigh, following procedure as you shuffled down onto your chair.

“Din Djarin.”

The way he spoke his own name was just as beautiful as you had remembered.

“And why are you here today?” you asked.

There was a brief silence before you were met with the Mandalorian’s low, gravelly voice. He’d taken off his helmet.

“I want you to suck my cock.”

His request winded you. Blunt and straight to the point. Honestly? You should’ve seen it coming. The thought of him fucking your mouth sent you in a frenzy, and you found yourself fighting the urge to touch yourself right then and there.

“That’s your confession?” you gulped, your fingers fiddling with the royal blue velveteen curtain that separated you both from seeing one another. You sighed and shook your head. “We can’t…” you trailed off, and you hated the way the words tasted on your tongue. This was everything you had waited for and now you were denying him? “It was wrong of us to do in the first place and I— it’s going to take a lot for me to move past it.”

“Do you still think about it?” Din asked, and his question bore a lot of weight as he reminisced on the night you and him spent together.. Inside the confession box was cold, so much so that a shiver that ran down your spine.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said softly. “I’m… getting married in the Summer.” you revealed, almost shyly. Din felt his freeze over and heart sink into his chest. Married? So fast? When he made no comment, you explained further. You tried to sound enthusiastic and positive, but the words just died as they left your lips. “My father found a minister who preaches on Takodana. He’s a little older than I, and even trained as a monk for several years. I hear Takodana is beautiful. Have you been before?”

Din scoffed incredulously, but you weren’t sure if the noise that came from the back of his throat was answering your question, or if it just signified his response to everything you had just said. He couldn’t believe it. “Just like I told you the last time we met,” he hummed knowingly. “If you marry him, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

This wasn’t the first time he had given you attitude. And it wouldn’t be the last.

“And what do you suggest I do?” you spat back. You weren’t just going to let him stick around if he was only going to make you feel bad for your decisions and what he considered to be poor life choices.

Din laughed, and if there wasn’t a closed curtain between you both, you would have smacked him right then and there. “I suggest you do what I ask without all the backchat,” he growled. “I suggest you get on your knees, open your pretty mouth, and suck my cock.”

You wanted to argue. You so desperately wanted to argue with him until he was begging for you, but you had waited too long for this too. You were desperate to taste him.

“Stand up, take off your pants, you instructed, biting your lip as you heard his zipper go down.

Once he was ready, Din stood with his hands flat against the wooden wall of the confession box, and you peeled back the curtain. You fell to your knees and wrapped your hands around his thick length, already revelling in how hot and heavy it felt. Din’s eyes snapped shut as you pumped his manhood. He’d missed the feeling of your soft hands. You gathered his precum which was leaking from the pink tip and rubbed it along his shaft.

Teasingly, you pressed a delicate kiss to his weeping slit. The Mandalorian couldn’t help but buck his hips at the tender contact. “More.” he huffed, his once flat hands bunching into a fist when you press in another kiss. But this time, your kiss turns into a small kitten lick as you taste him on your tongue. And Maker, he tastes good.

“Stay still sweetheart.” you grumbled, and your voice sent a vibration straight through his core. Sweetheart? He huffed again.

He was fully and achingly hard now. You opened your mouth and wrapped your lips around his head, sucking longingly. You removed your hands from his shaft and closed your eyes as you pushed down on him, trying to take his full, thick length in your virgin throat. It took about a minute for you to get fully adjusted, but the second you began to bob your head and suck him off, Din swore he was seeing stars. With every thrust of your mouth, you managed to push deeper and deeper until the curve of his nose was pressed against the soft tufts of brown hair just above his cock.

When you felt him twitch in your mouth, you knew he was close. You reached your hand through the dip in the curtain and began to cradle his balls, massaging them as his moans became louder and more guttural. As much as you wanted him to shoot his salty load down your throat, you knew that this might be the only chance you got to dominate your control over him. So, at the very last second before he could cum, you pulled off his cock with a ‘pop’.

He cursed out loud at the sudden loss of contact, and you wiped the trail of saliva mixed with precum from your lips. You could hear Din fussing from the otherside of the curtain and just as you were about to ask him what was he doing, his hand shot between the material as he passed you a piece of black cloth. Truly, it looked like he’d ripped a piece of his undershirt to craft it. When you took it from him, albeit hesitantly, his voice gave you instruction.

“Put it on,” he ordered. “Blindfold yourself.”

His voice had dropped an octave since you denied him of his orgasm.

Nevertheless, you obliged, wrapping the material around your eyes so you couldn’t see a thing. “Done.”

Din came out from the confession box and opened the door to your side, carefully guiding you out and walking you over to the candlelit altar.

“Lie down.” he told you gruffly.

It was hard to make a judgement in regards to where exactly in the chapel you were, but for some reason, you felt as though you could trust him. He pushed you back down to your knees and you felt the soft carpet beneath you.

Your pussy was dripping wet at this point, desperate for some kind of relief. In one swift motion, Din ripped your robe from you and you felt the material tear. He threw the garments to the floor and immediately latched his mouth to your breast. His tongue swirled around the hardening bud of your nipple and with his free hand, he began to caress and squeeze the breast that wasn’t receiving the attention of his lips. He palmed at the soft flesh and revelled in the way your moans escaped from your lips. He trailed his late hand down your stomach and stopped when he hit the hem of your panties. Din pulled off you and swapped over, this time sucking your other breast, even nibbling this time with his teeth. He lowered his hand and began to rub you through the thin white material of your underwear.

You felt him chuckle darkly against your chest as he felt just how wet you were. It was all for him, and he’d barely even touched you yet. He swirled his index finger over your clit and even through the cotton, the sensation was indescribable. You wanted nothing more than for him to rip off your panties the same way he’d ripped off your robes.

Din drew back from you and held you by your shoulders, slowly pushing you down so you were laying on your back with your legs spread open for him. He began to tug at your waistband and you lifted your ass up so he could pull down your panties.

He tossed them by your robes and parted your legs once more. He admired the way your cunt looked under the glowing amber candlelight, the way your juices sparkled like they were asking to be ravished by him.

“So pretty.” Din praised.

Din couldn’t contain himself any longer. He latched his tongue against your clit and began sucking profusely. That’s when you realised one of the questions you’d been dwelling on for the past two months had been answered. He definitely had facial hair. The roughness of his stubble grazing the softness of your cunt felt phenomenal. Every now and again, he’d pull back and separate your folds with his fingers, focusing his erratic tongue on your exposed sweet spot. He’d lap you up like a starved man, moaning at the taste of your arousal on his tongue.

Just when you thought you wouldn’t be able to take it anymore, Din plunged two fingers deep inside of you without warning. You let out a yelp and arched your back as he tongue fucked you even faster. You grew impossibly wetter and he began to stretch you out, prepping you for his thick cock.

He pushed one orgasm out of you first though, and left you shaking and twitching and struggling to regain your breath as you squirmed around on the floor, completely at his demand. Before you could even come down from your thigh, he positioned himself at your entrance and thrust his cock inside of you.

“Oh— oh fuck, I’ve missed this.” he groaned, tossing his head back as pleasure ran through his veins. Tears pricked your eyes, not that Din would’ve known, since you were blindfolded and all. He set a rough and ruthless pace, his hips snapping into yours as he got drunk on the feeling of your perfect walls clamping around him. “‘Missed this.. mi— missed you.”

You chanted his name over and over again like it was the sweetest prayer to ever leave your lips.

“Oh f—fuck Din,” you gasped, your fingernails digging into the muscles of his back. “Feels so good.”

He couldn’t believe how wet and tight you were. You locked your legs around his ass, signalling for him to keep going. Din looked down at you, revelling in the way you were gasping beneath him. In that moment, he wished he could remove the blindfold from you and look into your beautiful eyes as he fucked you senseless. His gaze dropped down to your pretty, soft lips, and he had to fight the urge to kiss you.

Din groaned when he increased his speed and their bodies made the most unadulterated wet sounds as skin slapped skin. Your toes curled as you felt another orgasm bubble up inside the pit of your tummy. Din was close too, in fact-- he’d been holding back this entire time. His breathing became laboured and with one final thrust, The Mandalorian let out a strangled cry, his body seizing up as he came. You felt his manhood throb inside of you, the pulsations pushing you over the edge as you clenched around him, tight like a vice.

Din stayed hovering over you as you both came down from your high, and he waited until his cock softened before pulling out of you and rolling over and laying next to you.

You shuffled into his warm chest and he wrapped his strong arms around you. The silence between you both was comfortable, as it always had been. The dynamic between you both felt so natural, despite both of you heeding very different personalities.

Once again, Din was the first to speak.

“Leave, right now, with me.” He whispered, cradling your naked body as it warmed by the candlelight.

“I can’t.” you replied sadly, blinking away the unshed tears that glazed your sparkling eyes. You wished you could. You wished there was a way around all of this, where you didn’t have to stay and marry the Takodanian preacher, but everything had already been planned. And your father, the grand bishop, would never approve.

“I’ve been on the run my whole life,” Din revealed, shifting his weight slightly. His strong arms tightened around you and his fingers traced comforting circles on your tummy. You nuzzled your head into his chest and relished his scent, knowing that this might well be the last time you see The Mandalorian. “I’ve seen the entire galaxy. Takodana is beautiful. I do think you’ll like it…” Din paused. “But I think you’ll like spending time with me even more.”

At one point, you might have laughed at his arrogance, but in the softness of the moment, you realised, he was right. You didn’t want to leave Din and get married to a complete stranger. You just didn’t want to leave Din.

“What can you offer me?” you asked the Mandalorian after a pause. You wouldn’t ask for much. You had grown up in a very minimalistic household after the grand bishop renounced all his material possessions. The question was more so rhetoric.

Din leaned into you, his warm breath fanning over the shell of your ear.

“Freedom.”

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