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cevansbrat0007 · 2 months

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New In Town

Summary: Introducing Chapter One of my Sweet Renegades Series. Sparks fly when you accidentally find yourself sitting next to Bounty Hunter, Ari Levinson.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Mentions of Death and Grief, Mentions of Book Boyfriends, Allusions to Disordered Eating, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Major thanks to @curls-and-eyeliner for helping me plot out this chapter. This story is part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. Thanks for reading!

It was happening again. You could feel him doing it. You knew without turning your head that the bastard had gone back to staring.

At you.

Gritting your teeth, you make a point of adjusting the skirt of your dress before returning your focus to Reverend Turner at the pulpit. Trying your best to ignore the hum of electricity in your veins, you find yourself wishing that you’d opted to stay home today. After all, you hadn’t been to church in ages.

So what on earth possessed you to return today?

It’s not like you were concerned for your immortal soul or anything. On the contrary, you and God were good. You were even on speaking terms again – now that you’d finally forgiven him for calling your Uncle Leon home before you were ready to let him go.

That had been nearly three years ago.

These days, your grief has taken a backseat in favor of running the town’s only bookshop, Baubles & Quills. Once owned by your Uncle, the store had become your sanctuary as you’d struggled to cope with the loss of the only family you’d ever had.

And now that you’d deemed life worth living again you’d apparently decided that attending Calvary Baptist Church’s Sunday morning service was a good idea. But the one thing you hadn’t counted on when you’d politely – and strategically – taken a seat in the pew closest to the door was that you’d end up sharing it with the likes of him.

That bounty hunter fella that you’d been hearing about for the last week. His arrival had practically sent your little town into a regular feeding frenzy. Word on the street was that he was investigating something that had to do with your old high school pal, Martin Westbrook.

At least that’s what Charline Marshall had said when she’d stopped by your shop to return a book she’d purchased because she didn’t care for the ending. While you weren’t usually one for gossip, you’d been intrigued by her, ah, description of the handsome stranger that had taken up residence just a few blocks south of where you lived.

Two Days Ago…

“His name is Ari Levinson. Kinda strange, right?” She’d whispered conspiratorially, running a hand through her copper colored tresses . “But he’s a tall drink of water with the prettiest blue eyes I‘ve ever seen.”

“Oh really?” You’d mumbled, frowning at the crease that adorned the spine of the paperback book in your hands. Another one for the discount rack.

“Mhm. He’s handsome all over.” Charline had continued, picking up one of your more elaborate looking bookmarks and pretending to study it before using it to fan herself. “And not only that, but…” She’d leaned in then, allowing her freshly manicured nails lightly graze your arm. “I think he likes me.”

“Oh? Has he come out and said that?” Your eyes had gone wide with feigned interest. Because of course the man would be into Charline Anne Marshall. Who wouldn’t be? The woman was beautiful and, what’s more, she knew it.

“Well, I mean…not yet.” The woman had let out a disappointed little sigh. “But I’m almost certain he will. I’m just giving him time to get settled in, you know?” She’d said, her perfectly painted lips curving into a smile as she held out a hand for her change.

“How kind of you.” Good Lord how you wished you could hurry things along so you could go back to enjoying your peace and quiet.

“Ari has already interviewed me twice. He even gave me his number, just in case I happen to remember anything else.” She’d tucked the cash from her return into her purse. “I think I might call him up and tell him that my memory works best after a couple of drinks. Think that’ll work?”

“I guess you’ll never know if you don’t try.” Even though you were annoyed, you’d pasted on a fake smile and closed the register, hoping that might be enough to convince her to end the conversation and move on already.

“Why, I think you just might be right.” Your unwanted guest held up the bookmark that was still in her grasp, her unspoken question left hanging in the air. “And this?”

“It’s on the house, Charline.” You’d patiently replied, bracing your elbows on the counter. “Best of luck landing your bounty hunter beau.”

“Well, aren’t you just a gem?” She’d all but squealed, sounding positively giddy as she took a step back. “You know, I bet if you spent a little more time out in the real world instead of holed-up in here with all these books, you’d probably be able to land a man too. You’d be awful pretty if you’d just put in a little bit of effort into it. I mean –”

“No thanks.” You’d simply shrugged, unable to summon up enough energy to be outraged by the dig.

It wasn’t worth the breath you would've wasted trying to explain why you were better off keeping the company of your book boyfriends. A real man required too much care and feeding for your tastes.

“If you say so, sugar. But–” She’d responded as she strode towards the door. “Oh! You should come to my next party. We’ll let Mary Kay sponsor your makeover.”

'No offense, Charline, but I’d rather put a campfire out with my face than attend your next Mary Kay get-together featuring you and ten of your mother’s closest friends.' You'd thought to yourself.

“Uh, maybe. We’ll see.” You’d hedged before turning on your heel and heading in the direction of the stockroom. “Enjoy the bookmark!” God, you’d never been so happy to hear someone exit your shop than you were at that moment.

Which brought you back to the present. You’re startled out of your reverie when the congregation erupts into thunderous applause, signaling the end of Reverend Turner’s sermon. You knew you were going to have to move quickly if you wanted to avoid any unwanted attention from other members of the flock.

Or worse yet: be forced into making small talk with Ari Levinson. Assuming that beast of a man actually possessed enough brain cells to actually string together a sentence or two. Which was a shame because he really was easy on the eyes.

Unfortunately for you, you don’t realize that now you’re the one who’s staring until you notice the corner of his mouth tilt up in a smirk. Shit. The cocky lawman nods his head in your direction before having the audacity to mouth the word: “howdy”. It almost makes you wonder what his voice would sound like.

Would his southern drawl be thick and rough, or smooth and easygoing? Assuming he was southern, that is.

Feeling your cheeks heat, you make fast work of grabbing your things before scooting out of the pew, doing your best to sneak out of the service before everyone is formally dismissed. The absolute last thing you needed was to have this man thinking you were like every other woman in this town who was willing to practically trip over herself just to get a good look at him.

On your way out you brush past Sister Mary Jo Winans, who is all too eager to follow you out the door and halfway down the front stairs.

So much for making a clean getaway.

“You’re not staying for the potluck?” She wheezes, gripping the railing as she struggles to catch her breath.

“Afraid not, Sister Winans.” You tell her while digging through your purse for your keys. “I’ve gotta go home and change so I can head over to the shop.”

“But it’s Sunday, honey.” The matronly woman huffs, adjusting the angle of her wide-brim church hat. “This is the day that the Lord has made. We are to rejoice and be glad in it. It’s all right there in the good Book.”

“Be that as it may, Sister, I’m afraid I can’t stay. Plus I wouldn’t feel right about eating when I didn’t bring a dish to contribute, so…” You offer up a one-armed shrug. “Next time.”

You also weren’t a fan of eating in front of people. You were always self-conscious about whatever you put on your plate, convinced that you were being judged for your choices. Your stomach growls at the mention of food, reminding you that you’d left some cottage cheese and fruit behind at the shop. That would just have to do until you found the wherewithal to make it to the grocery store.

“But–”

“Next time. I promise.” You kindly interrupt, hoping that she would just let the issue drop. “By the way, I set aside a copy of Joyce Meyer’s latest book for you.”

“You did?”

“Yep.” You confirm as you begin walking backwards towards the nearby parking lot. “Stop by anytime. We’ll consider it an early birthday present, alright?” Smiling when she nods, you toss her a little wave before speed walking the rest of the way to your car.

Unlocking it, you climb in the driver’s seat and slam the door before gunning the engine. Finally free, you peel out of the lot and turn onto the empty street. Needing to focus on something other than your thoughts about a certain bounty hunter, you decide to turn up the radio, praying for your traitorous brain to cooperate.

Yeah, no such luck.

“Fuck you, Levinson.” You spit, wishing that he was close enough to hear you right then. Because the way you saw it, the sooner he packed his shit and moved on, the better off you and everyone else in this godforsaken town would be. And if he knew what was good for him, he’d stay far away from you.

He’d have more luck getting information out of a drunk Charline than he would trying to get you to spill your guts. And the moment he threatened you, you were planning to call Bell’s Creek PD to let them deal with it. Until then, you had some empty shelves to stock. But first…

You were gonna need to find someone to cut you out of these damned spanx.

END

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reds-writings · 3 months

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sunday kind of love

(pairing: rust cohle x fem!reader)

a/n: finally a bit of pure fun and fluff! this kinda applies to the jealousy, jealousy universe but it can totally be read as a standalone! requests are open so hit my inbox if you so choose! enjoy!

word count: 1.3k ish (a lil treat)

warnings: light cursing but not much else! the ending felt kinda weak so i apologize for that lol (minors begone!)

“Y’know…today is supposed to be one of rest…given that it’s a Sunday n’ all. Just in case you might’ve forgotten.” You remarked in your half-drowsy state, your porch swing swaying idly as you lay draped across it like some lazy house cat.

The day had you hotter than a sinner in church. The sun sat high and bright in the sky, certainly having no mercy on all the melting folk of Louisiana. Even the breeze that had the old wind chimes you’d hung up ages ago tinkling idly in its gusts was relentless in temperature, offering no aid to your sickeningly sticky skin. With the way you’d been running the AC and numerous plugged-in fans in your house over the past few days, you were sure to rack up one nasty-looking electric bill in due time. Even with all that operating nearly 24/7 it hadn’t made much of a difference in the old rickety house. You’d give just about anything right now if it meant not being so grossly miserable and sweaty in all the worst places.

The only reason you weren’t inside the slightly cooler haven that was your home was because of a certain pigheaded man who decided today would be the day he busied himself with fixing up your lawn. How ridiculous. One offhand mention of the front yard being a little unruly and your flowers looking a bit lackluster had Rust up and working as if you were Pavlov and he the infamous dog. There was no fighting him when he set his mind on something so you assigned yourself the role of making sure he didn’t drop dead from heat exhaustion like a fool.

“I’m serious, Rustin. We should head on inside. Ain’t no need to get all of this done today.” You called out again, tipping your head to the side and looking over your sunglasses to see that he had now moved on from getting all the lawn clippings into a trash bag to planting some new flowers he claimed would thrive during the season. The way the muscles under the tan skin of his arms moved and the look of utter focus painted on his handsome features had you smiling something horrendously lovesick. Despite his bullish nature, you knew this was just one of his many underlying ways of showing that he cared for you. Loved you even. You could say that now after certain admissions had been made some nights ago and you found yourself no less giddy after the fact as you thought on it what had to be a million times over at this point.

Some Linda Rondstat tune played from the old radio that sat propped up on the porch’s railing, causing your bare feet to tap in tandem with the country star’s divine voice. Rust continued to work in silence as you started humming, sitting up to then swing your legs off the bench’s edge.

You flipped your sunglasses to lay stationary at the top of your head, “I’m feelin’ awfully neglected right now, darlin’.”

That had him finally snorting, “I’m sure you’ll live.”

“You don’t know that. If I were to keel over right this minute cause a certain cowboy won’t give me the time of day, I bet you there’d be some sorta scientific explanation behind it and it’d have you feelin’ just awful. Gutted even, I’m tellin’ you.” You wagged a finger at him as you went on your theatrical tangent. You saw him shaking his head, continuing to work as if that could hide his growing smile from you.

“You find this funny but I’m bein’ dead serious. I’ve got one of the most handsomest men in Louisiana on my lawn and he’s too busy diggin’ holes in my garden. Those flowers are gettin’ more felt up than your poor girl over here and that don’t sit quite right with me-”

“Quit it, woman.” He cut in with feigned exasperation though you knew such outward declarations of flirting made by you had him more than a bit flustered. You could live out this whole scene forever if you could. It might’ve been hotter than hell but the landscape was lush and beautiful. The weeping willow taking up a good amount of space on the front of your property danced in the light afternoon wind. The sunlight was hitting everything just right and it had you grateful to call this all yours. The man opposing you only added to the fuzzy feeling dancing in your veins. Snapping out of your sappy thoughts of admiration you saw Rust finally get up from his position and make way towards the garden hose.

You huffed out a dramatic sigh as you forced yourself up and made your way down the weathered porch steps. He stood over the new thatch of colorful flora, thumb half over the hose’s nozzle to spray down his hard work of the day.

“If I quit it then just how else am I supposed to bug you with my affections?”

“I couldn’t tell ya. Shame that is.” He drawled, seemingly amused with feeding into your impatient antics.

Eyes squinting at him, you tried to fight the quirking of your lips as you ambled on over closer to him.

“You must got some hidden thing for the works of sadism, mister. Leavin’ me hangin’ for hours on end with no-” You nearly shrieked at the sudden cold of the hose’s stream being flicked at you. The offendant stood opposite of you, too smug for your liking as he took in your half-soaked form. The old tank top and denim cutoffs you had on already left little to the imagination prior to his attack, you could only imagine the form of indecency you found yourself in now.

“Oh, that’s it. C’mere you little- HEY!” You screeched as the cold spray hit you again. The momentum with which you charged at him had water flying between you both when he got you again. You wrestled each other for the hose, causing more than enough of a mess in the process. The joy in your laughter had Rust’s chest squeezing almost painfully. The stretch of his grin felt foreign to him but he couldn’t manage to control himself.

As you made numerous attempts to jump up and snatch the tubing from his grip you overestimated your step and slipped on the newly muddied grass, causing you both to topple over. Your belly ached from how hard you found yourself laughing. You almost felt like a child again, drenched beyond belief with streaks of mud and grass finding a new home on your body. A few deep rumbles sounded from the depths of Rust’s broad chest as he pushed some of the sopping-wet hair from your face, looking at you as if you were the only thing in the world that made sense to him. As if you were all the answers to his universe wrapped up into one person. The intensity had you knocking his chin with your knuckles softly and wiping some water from his face.

“You’re an ass, y’know that?”

“And you’re one sore loser.”

“Loser?! I’ll have you know I managed to take your lanky ass down in one fell swoop-”

You were silenced by the sudden press of his kiss. It was hard to reciprocate as you felt yourself smiling harder but he persisted despite the clumsiness of it all. Moments like these were something you’d never take for granted. Any chance to see the man in front of you free of all of his persistent burdens, even if just for a moment, were times you could hold on to forever. You felt nothing short of lucky that he let you in. That you were able to cross paths and choose each other in this life.

You had a feeling there were probably other lifetimes in which you danced this similar dance as different people or different beings. Destined to always find your way back to each other come hell or high water. Damn. Rust's daily cosmic ramblings and otherworldy mumbo jumbo were starting to really get to you.

Though you couldn't help but wonder if he happened to feel it too.

a/n: late night post but we love silliness and laughter! as always feedback is greatly appreciated! hopefully, this wasn't too ooc!

#reds-writings #rust cohle x reader #rust cohle imagine #fanfic #true detective season 1 #true detective imagine #matthew mcconaughey #true detective #rust cohle

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seniaasaysstuff · 6 months

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𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝🔞| priest!nanami kento x fem! reader

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Priest! Nanami😩 x fem! reader

Warnings- NSFW CONTENT! Rough Anal Sex, Deep throating, Manhandling, Church sex, Blasphemous, Priest kink, Sex on the Altar steps, Confessional sex, Prayer kink, Masturbation, Taking the lord’s name in vain. Father Nanami combusts as reader finishes praying. Oh lord save me.

word count: 1.7k

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Father Nanami’s the head of the congregation. Every two days, Father Nanami gives preaches and his sermons. He teaches the churchcomers about how loved they are in the light of the Lord, and that their sins are nothing compared to God's unconditional love.

You attended his preachings regularly, never missing a day. Today, when he was giving his sermon, you weren’t able to focus. You were so distracted by him. All you were able to think about was Father Nanami fucking you into submission. After the sermon was over, you stayed seated, lost in your thoughts.

Father Nanami noticed and approached you. “Is everything okay?” You shivered as you were pulled out of your chaotic train of thoughts by his deep voice. He had an effect on you. You didn’t know if it was the way he smiled or the way he talked to you that led you to fall in love with the man.

You looked at him and gave him a nervous smile. “Hello, Father. Amazing sermon as always.” Father Nanami chuckled, his eyes seemed to sparkle as he stared at you. “You weren’t paying attention today. Has something been on your mind?” Heat rises to your cheeks as you hear the priest.

The thought of him noticing you and being worried for you in the mass of his devout followers who frequented the church along with you. It was embarrassing but made you feel wanted.

“I- um didn’t know that you paid attention to the crowd during your assembly,” You nervously stammered.

He rested his head against the wall as he hummed in response, his arms crossed over his chest. “How could I not pay attention to one of the most precious women from my flock?” Your face flushed red again. He considered you precious. He considered YOU as Precious. You felt like you were on top of the world.

“Now tell me what’s bothering you?” He questioned, his brown eyes seemed as if they were staring into your soul. They burned with so much intensity that you had to take a moment to catch your breath. You couldn’t look away from him.

“I- I’ve been having these thoughts, Father,” You gulped, feeling nervous. “Oh?” Father Nanami raised an eyebrow at your comment.

“Would you help me do a confession, Father? I think that would help me.” You added shyly. Father Nanami chuckled as he got up and led you to the small confessional. You sat on the wooden bench, in the tiny claustrophobic room.

You were able to catch a glimpse of Father Nanami through the latticed opening and felt your heart race.

“What brings you here?” He questioned, he was somewhat aware of what you were about to say.

You let out a heavy sigh and began. “Forgive me Father for I have sinned. I’ve been having these thoughts, Father.” You spoke, feeling embarrassed.

“Indulge me. What tempts you?” Nanami’s voice had a hint of interest in his smooth, deep voice. You squeezed your thighs shut as you heard him speak. “There is someone father. I’ve been having lustful thoughts about him,” You whispered, biting your lip nervously.

Nanami’s eyebrow quirked up. “Lustful?” He repeated. A smirk graced his lips. He knew where things were headed.

“Are they about someone that you aren’t supposed to have?” You shrank, feeling ashamed. “And how long have you been experiencing these thoughts?” He inquired with a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Ever since I’ve met him. He comes into my dreams every night. He occupies my mind wholly. It is so that I can’t help touching myself at the thought of him ruining me,” You whispered.

Father Nanami leaned his head against the wooden door that was separating you, his rosary digging into his right thigh, listening to you speak. He wondered, what a moan would sound spilling out of your lips. “Would you help me wash these sins away Father?” You coyly added, a spark of mischief in your eyes. Nanami held his rosary tightly, trying to keep himself calm.

Your fingers made their way underneath your skirt, brushing over your clothed pussy, “I need you Father,” You moaned as you slowly rubbed your fingers up and down your clothed slit.

The wooden door that was separating you burst open and Father Nanami suddenly barged through. “You naughty girl,” Nanami spoke, hovering over you as he took in the sight in front of him. You looked absolutely debauched.

“Put that hand away and kneel,” He ordered, his voice was gruff and demanding. You immediately obeyed, pulling your hand away, and dropped to your knees in front of him.

“Such a sinful lass. Trying to tempt the man of god. You must serve your penance,” Father Nanami asserted in a low voice, full of arousal.

He sat on the wooden bench and gave his crotch a light pat. “Come atone for your sins,” He demanded, beckoning you over.

You swiftly moved in between his legs. You stared at his bulge through his trousers, you could see the outline of his cock through the fabric.

You hurriedly undid the zipper of his trousers and struggled a bit to get his cock out. Your mouth watered at the sight in front of you. Nanami clutched your hair and pulled on it, using it as a leash as he tugged them. He pushed your head in his crotch. You placed your lips around its tip, slowly taking in his length.

You tried to take all of him but unfortunately, your gag reflex made it nearly impossible. Jolting your head back, a string of saliva connecting your lips with his cock.

Nanami ran his hand across your hair, gently massaging your scalp. “Slow down darling. You’re doing good.” He praised you as you looked up at him, his voice was laced with desire and eyes full of lust. You nodded and focused your attention on his dick, slowly taking him in your mouth.

“Holy mother of-“ Nanami cursed, his hips jerking forward as you bobbed your head up and down on his length, watching him with half-lidded eyes that seemed filled with a burning desire for him.

Nanami grabbed the back of your head and pushed your head, his cock hitting the back of your throat. “Breathe through your nose hm?” He whispered as his hand played with your hair, twirling it in his fingers. You tensed, unable to breathe. Nanami noticed that and pulled back, letting you recover your strength.

After making sure you were okay, he slammed his dick in your mouth, pushing his hips deeper, hitting the back of your throat. You could feel saliva dribble out as he thrust his cock in your mouth. “Take my seed and be washed off your sins,” Nanami grunted as he quickened his pace.

Lecherous noises were the only thing heard in the remote enclosed space. With a thrust of his hips, he came into your mouth, he didn’t take his cock out of your mouth, forcing you to swallow his seed.

“Have you achieved atonement, my dear? Or do you require more?” His voice was like a smooth baritone, it was hypnotic as if drawing you in.

You whimpered. “Please, father. I need more,” You begged, your hands clutching onto his legs. Father Nanami’s hand that was holding onto your hair slowly made its way down to your neck, holding your throat. He bent forward towards you and pulled you into a rough kiss, slipping his tongue past your lips and sliding it into your mouth. You broke away from the kiss, panting and gasping for air.

Nanami who was breathing heavily abruptly got up and picked you up, carrying you outside the tiny booth in his muscular arms. The cathedral was empty as he placed you on the velvety steps of the altar. “Kneel before the lord,” He ordered, his leg nudging you to drop to your knees.

Father Nanami dipped behind you, his chin resting on your shoulder. You gasped as he lifted your skirt and ran the tip of his cock against your hole, teasing you. “Begin your prayers dear.”

You bowed your head, still kneeling as you began your prayers. “Dear Jesus, help me to make a good Confession, help me to find out my sins,” Your prayers paused as Nanami dipped his fingers in the chrism oil.

A loud moan escaped your lips as felt lubed fingers poking around your puckered rosebud. “Don’t let me stop you, my girl,” He whispered with a slight chuckle and added another finger, gently preparing you.

“H-elp me to be s-sorry for them, help me to make up my m-mind not to sin again,” You stuttered out the words as he curled his fingers inside you. Nanami removed his fingers, making you whimper at the loss of him. His cock was already coated with the oil as he began to push the tip against your hole. “Oh god!” You cried out as his cock was pushed entirely inside you.

A hand gripped your throat from behind and roughly squeezed it. “Saying the lord’s name in vain?” He clicked his tongue in disappointment. You cried out, apologizing to him. “Finish your prayers.” He demanded as he began to push down harder. His hips thrust against you. You groaned, feeling so engrossed in the pleasure.

“H-have mercy on me, O Lord, and forgive me. M-mary, my mother, p-ray for me,” Your voice faltered as he began to quicken his pace. Hearing you pray as he fucked you was turning him on immensely. He felt so much pleasure, feeling you milk his cock that he was about to cum.

“A-Amen.” As you finished, Nanami’s cock pulsed and you could feel his hot sticky cum spill out of you as he slumped on top of you.

Both of you were panting heavily as you sprawled across the velvet stairs. “Jesus… Father, where have you been all my life?” You breathed out, feeling blissful. You were undoubtedly fucked out. He chuckled.

Nanami helped you up from the ground and grasped your chin, tilting it upwards and pulling you into a passionate kiss. “How about I take you out on an actual date?” He asked, a hopeful smile on his face. You laughed. “Are you kidding me? Of course!” You exclaimed as you leaned onto his body.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami is so hot #nanami kento #nanami kento smut #kento nanami #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #nanami x reader #nanami kento x you #priest kink #blasphemy #nanami smut

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vickiee-mcmuffin · 11 months

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Reunited

Word count: 3.1k

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Female Reader

Trope: Explicit Smut, Fluff? (18+ Warning, Minors DNI)

A/N: Here's another fic that was on ao3 for like a day because it flopped so I deleted it. Let's hope it doesn't flop here too. 🫣😅

Summary: You have the honor of being one of Christine's bridesmaids at her wedding. But when you notice a certain person has been invited, it brings back heartbreaking memories.

You woke up with a soft, little yawn. The warmth and comfort of your bed were addicting, your soft pillows far too inviting. But you had to get up. There was no time for sleeping. The day ahead was big. Christine – one of your good friends – was getting married. And Christine had been kind enough to offer you the role of one of her bridesmaids. You were honoured by the gesture.

You sat up in bed, eyeing the bridesmaid dress that was hanging on the door handle of your wardrobe. It was a gorgeous dress, and you couldn’t wait to slip into it. You jumped in the shower, did your hair and makeup, and put on the expensive dress. Nodding at your reflection in the mirror, you then made your way to the church. Soon, Christine would be a married woman, and you would be standing right there by her side.

There was a crowd already forming around the old church building, but one person stood out in her flowing, crisp white gown: Christine. Your heels clicked on the cement as you ran up to the other woman.

“Christine, you look so amazing,” you said in a shocked whisper. It was the truth. Christine looked stunning.

“Oh, thank you, Y/N,” beamed Christine. “So do you. I’m so excited for today. The day has finally arrived.”

“It’s gonna be such a good day,” you nodded.

You, Christine, and the rest of the bridesmaids stood there talking, with time passing by quickly. Soon, it was time for Christine to walk down the aisle and marry her soon to be husband.

Lining up with the bridesmaids, you sucked in a sharp breath, ready to enter the church. The music suddenly started, the doors opened up, and you heard a few gasps. There was a bridesmaid in front of you, and you quickly followed behind the other woman, taking slow steps with Christine not far behind you. Your eyes scanned the crowd, noting all the happy faces. You noted that Christine’s family were all the way at the front wearing teary smiles. The groom’s family was on the opposite side of the aisle, also with wet eyes. But it was the man a few rows up that really caught your attention. You could have sworn you almost went stiff right then and there.

It was Stephen Strange. Just the sight of him was enough to make your heart race. Christine and Stephen had been together many years ago. He was the man you used to spend so many days training with when you were at Kamar Taj. He was the man you had very quickly grown to love. He was the man you had kissed that night, after a hard day of training, when it was just the two of you all alone in the library at Kamar Taj.

But… He was also the man who had completely and utterly broken your heart. And ever since you shared that wild, heated kiss in the library, he seemed to want nothing to do with you. Stephen had been avoiding you ever since the incident. And because of that, you left Kamar Taj, the action breaking your heart in the process.

Taking a deep breath, you reminded yourself to focus. You looked ahead, so desperate not to see his face. You just walked down on the aisle, focusing on your job as a bridesmaid. That’s what you were there to do.

You took your place at the front of the church, watching on in silence as Christine and her future husband exchanged their vows. It was a wonderful moment that was sealed with a kiss. The crowd cheered, celebrating the new husband and wife.

Life was good for Christine and her husband.

******

You sat alone in the reception room. It was beautifully decorated, with food and drinks galore. There was so much to do and so much to celebrate, but you sat by yourself, sipping on an almost empty wine glass. You let out a sigh, hating that all of the old memories of you and Stephen had hit you like a truck.

Looking up at the crowd, you spotted a beaming Christine. And you just had to ask. You needed to know why she invited him.

“Hey,” you greeted her.

“Hi,” Christine smiled. “Sorry, I’m trying to be a good host and mingle here and there. Just trying to talk to everyone. Are you okay?”

“Why… Why did you invite Stephen?” you asked quietly. You were straight to the point, so eager to understand.

Christine shrugged. “Well, it was mostly my husband’s idea… Why? What’s the issue?”

“Stephen… Stephen and I had grown really close before. I thought there was something between us. We kissed one night. And it was such a wonderful kiss. But after that, it was like he forgot all about me. He stopped talking to me. He got all cold. I don’t know what I did to offend him. He… He really did break my heart,” you sighed, your eyes shutting as you felt an ache in your chest. “And seeing him here is hard. I’ve been upset ever since I saw him in the church. I still love him, Christine.”

Finally opening up your eyes, you watched as Christine sent you a kind, warm smile.

“You should go talk to him, Y/N,” Christine said.

You gave your head a furious shake. “No way. He probably wants nothing to do with me. He’ll just break my heart again. I don’t want to deal with that all over again.”

“Y/N, stop being so silly. I bet that Stephen was just scared about loving someone. You won’t know until you talk to him…”

The advice wasn’t bad, but you had yet to move. You stood there, biting at your bottom lip, contemplating what Christine was telling you. Could that have been true? Was Stephen just scared? If so, why didn’t he just tell you that instead of completely breaking your heart?

Christine let out a loud sigh. “Fine, I’ll go talk to him then.”

Christine moved far too quickly for you to even tell her to stop. You looked on with wide eyes, watching the back of the other woman’s head. She made her way to Stephen who was at the bar, by himself, slowly sipping on a drink in his hand.

Biting at your bottom lip, you watched as Stephen and Christine talked. You so badly wished you could read lips – or minds. They both stood there, talking to each other for a good five minutes. Then finally Christine walked away, making her way back over to you. Eager to know what they discussed, you opened your mouth to speak up, but Christine simply walked past you, a bright smile on her face. Following the woman with your eyes, you just watched as Christine made her way to her husband. You slowly turned, wondering what on earth had just happened. What did they say to each other?

“Y/N,” a voice said from behind you.

Stephen’s voice. You didn’t have to turn around to know that it was him. You knew his voice so well. Turning around slowly, you were met with Stephen’s dark eyes. You weren’t surprised to see that it was him. It was your first time seeing him up close in such a long time. As usual, he looked good. Too good. You weren’t sure if your cheeks were flushing red as you looked at him.

He cleared his throat. “Hi, Y/N…”

“Hi,” you replied, your voice quiet and laced with nervousness. The room suddenly felt so warm.

“How have you been?”

“I’ve been good. And yourself?”

“Oh, I’ve been doing alright,” he nodded.

You were certain that it was the end of your conversation. That you were going to exchange quick pleasantries and be on your way and then never speak to one another again. It was quiet between the two of you, the silence rather uncomfortable. You wondered how long you would have to stand there, taking in his eyes.

“Can we talk?” he asked you.

Deep down, you were screaming out no, certain history was going to repeat itself. He was going to break your heart and leave you in tears. But you still loved him. Loved him with everything in you. Of course, you were going to talk to him.

“Yes,” you let out with a whisper.

It took just seconds for the change to happen. You heard a sizzle in your ears, the music and noisy conversations suddenly fading as you were met with quietness. You had shut your eyes during the madness, and when you opened them you found yourself in the New York sanctum. All alone with Stephen.

You looked around the space, wondering why he had brought you back there even if he just wanted to talk. It would have been a lot easier to have a conversation there.

“I’m sorry,” Stephen suddenly said with a heavy sigh.

You finally looked at him. At his wet eyes and furrowed brows and his tightly pressed together lips. It was obvious he was upset. That he was sorry about something.

“What are you sorry about?” you asked him quietly.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you,” he admitted. “After that night in the library. And Kamar Taj. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Tears quickly formed in your eyes. A fresh wave of pain hit you. He was admitting. Acknowledging what he had done. And it was like experiencing the heartache all over again. You hated the feeling. Hated that you couldn’t control your emotions – but he had hurt you so much.

“You broke my heart,” you told him softly. “That’s why I left Kamar Taj. I figured you wanted nothing to do with me after that…”

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” he murmured back to you, that look of pain still on his face. “I was so scared.”

“Scared of what?” you shrugged.

That was when Stephen took a few steps closer to you. He eyed you intensely, staring at nothing and no one but you.

“I was scared to love someone after what I had done to Christine. I had been a complete jerk to her. I hurt her. I completely blew it with her all those years ago… I was so scared that I would lose you too, Y/N.”

The tears started to fall after that. You could no longer hold them back. Why couldn’t he have just told you that before? You wished he had. You could have worked it out, could have talked about it, could have fought for your love for one another.

“Why couldn’t you just tell me you were scared?” you whimpered. “We could have just… We could have just figured something out.”

“I was scared you would have just left me…”

Shaking your head, you made sure to say your next words clearly. “I wouldn’t have just left you… Because I loved you.”

Stephen leaned forward, his warm, trembling hand cupping one of your cheeks softly. He used his thumb to wipe at your tears, rubbing at your skin as he looked at you. “I know… And I love you too. Maybe… Maybe we can figure this out again? But this time… together.”

Smiling at him with wet eyes, you nodded. “Yes. Of course. Yes, yes, yes… But… Why have you suddenly changed your mind?”

He smiled back at you, his eyes twinkling. “Christine told me not to be afraid of letting someone love me. And when she said that, I realised that it was you that I wanted to be with.”

Beaming up at him, your heart started to race when Stephen moved in, closing the gap between you. He pressed his lips to yours softly, and it took you just seconds to kiss him back. It was as wonderful as you had imagined in your head. You wrapped your arms around his back, and Stephen mimicked your motions, pulling you up against his own broad chest. You stood there kissing, your tongues slowly dancing together, with Stephen slowly guiding you toward his bed.

You both landed on it, your lips still attached, with a soft thud. You were growing wetter and wetter with each heated second that passed, your hands running up and down Stephen’s back, wanting to feel all of him. You felt exactly how you felt when you used to train together at Kamar Taj. You felt that need, that want, that hunger.

Pulling away from his lips with a gasp, you and Stephen both looked at each other with dark eyes. The room had grown hotter, and you knew then and there that you wanted more.

“Please make love to me,” you said, your voice barely a whisper.

“Are you sure?” he sucked in a sharp breath.

You nodded. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

He smiled at you, his eyes twinkling again. “Okay.” Leaning down, he gave you another soft, slow kiss before getting off the bed and standing up.

You were about to pull off your dress, but you let out a shocked gasp when Stephen waved a gentle hand in your direction, and then a second later, both yours and his clothes had been removed.

You licked your lips at the sight of his bare form, watching as Stephen got in the bed and crawled over to you. Spreading your legs open, Stephen got in position between them, giving you a long kiss. When he pulled away, he looked down at you seriously.

“Are you sure you want this?” he wondered.

“Yes,” you moaned. You had never been so sure of anything in your life. “Please fuck me. Please, please, please.”

It took him just a second to make his next move. He pushed into you, filling you up with his cock. You moaned at the sensation, loving the new feeling of him stretching you out. Stephen grunted above you, and you fell in love with the noise.

He didn’t move. Just stayed there with his cock pushed deep inside of you. But then he looked down at you, eyes ever so dark.

“Are you okay?”

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay. Please move, though. Please. I wanna feel you.”

He listened to you. He began to pump in and out of you slowly, soft grunts escaping his lips with each movement. You joined in, letting out your own noises of pleasure before you pulled him in for a quick yet passionate kiss.

“You’re so big,” you whispered against his lips. You kept whining as he thrusted in and out of you, but you needed more. “Oh, please go faster.”

Once again, he listened. The tip of his cock met that sweet spot deep inside of you, forcing a shrill cry out of you.

“Oh, Stephen!” you squealed, wrapping your arms around his back. You scratched his back, letting pleasure take over. The sounds of your moans mixed in with the noises of skin slapping skin. That was all that could be heard in the bedroom: the sound of the two of you making love.

Stephen kissed you for a moment, his moans loud. “You feel so good.”

“Please don’t stop,” you begged in response.

“I promise I won’t. God, I promise I won’t stop.”

He kept moving, kept taking you, and you looked up to watch him closely. He was sweating and his hair was sticking to his forehead. You were certain he was the most beautiful thing you had ever laid eyes on. You couldn’t help but kiss him, and he kissed you back, your tongues dancing together for a long moment.

“Please fuck me harder,” you pleaded when you pulled away from him. “And faster. Please.”

Stephen lifted himself up, his big hands on either side of your head, a look of total darkness in his eyes. He looked so serious, so lost in lust. And then he pumped into you exactly as you had asked: hard and fast, his movements so wild and quick. You cried out his name, your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

Reaching down, you held the warm covers tight, pulling at them as you moaned. He kept fucking you, and with each and every thrust, you found yourself getting closer and closer to your peak. Your orgasm was blossoming; it was just seconds away.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whined. “Please don’t stop!”

He nodded down at you, fucking you harder and faster and deeper, giving you every inch of his cock. It was with one hard thrust that you lost it, your orgasm hitting you suddenly.

“I’m cumming!” You came around his length, coating him with your juices as you squealed. It felt so good. So hot. Your pussy was gushing around him as you lost it, drenching his length.

“I’m so close,” Stephen muttered, still pumping you full of his cock. He was grunting above you.

“Mm, please cum inside me. You can do it. It’s safe. Please,” you whimpered. You were slowly coming down from your high.

It took Stephen just four thrusts into you before he lost it. He came with a deep grunt, emptying himself inside of you, your pussy milking every drop from him. Licking at his lips, he kept moving, kept giving you his length and every last rope of cum he could give you. Then he pulled out and collapsed right then and there on top of you, the both of you breathing hard and fast. You had to catch your breath.

It took a moment, but Stephen rolled off of you and pulled you to his chest. He stared down at you, his eyes focused on your own.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Stephen gave you a bright smile, and you both leaned in close, sharing a sweet, soft kiss. You nuzzled into Stephen’s chest, loving the feeling of his arms wrapping around you tighter and harder. He felt so warm, so cosy. He felt like home. You were beyond happy to be there in his bed, in his arms, having just made love to him. More importantly: you were happy to just be with him, and you were especially filled with delight after you had worked things out and could finally be together.

“So, do you plan on coming back to Kamar Taj?” Stephen asked in a hopeful tone.

You looked up at him, staring into his blue eyes. “I’ll think about it, but I think you owe me a few dates and more of this before I make a decision,” You smiled, teasing him.

Stephen chuckled, and your heart soared from hearing that sound and finally seeing him happy with you. “Deal.”

You smiled at him again before leaning in and kissing him softly. He kissed you back before you pulled away. “I love you, Stephen Strange.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Stephen told you.

You shared one final kiss before you fell asleep in Stephen’s arms, happier than you had ever been in your whole life. It was the ending you had craved for so long, and you finally got it.

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little-diable · 8 months

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Sins, desires, longings - Dean Winchester (smut)

A big thank you to @deathofpeaceofmind for inspiring this! This came to us as I shared the lyrics of the song "No Mercy" by Austin Giorgio. This could have a part two? Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Dean thinks Sam is dead, hence why he tries to rip himself free from his old life, which means leaving (y/n) behind. But as he hides away in a church, slipping into the role of a priest, he keeps committing sins. Or: pwp

Warnings: 18+, piv smut, jerking off, religious connotations, priest!Dean, pretty much pwp

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (1.6k words)

The sound of his boots meeting the ground echoed through the cold church, echoing off the walls like the cries of those burying Jesus had echoed through the afternoon air. With his forest green eyes focused on the altar, Dead dropped to his knees, making a cross sign with two fingers before he clasped his hands together.

His eyes fluttered close, speaking a prayer he had learned a few days ago, trying to swallow down the thoughts welling up in his mind, wanting to drown him like the waves Moses had parted had tried to do. Dean had to focus on the words that left him, rolling off his tongue all too easily.

It was a strange sight, a sight so foreign that those who have once crossed paths with the hunter wouldn’t believe their own eyes. Without opening his eyes, Dean’s hand began to move up his chest, finding the rosary dangling from his neck. Slowly he grasped the pearls, wooden beads that took his mind off the prayer he should focus on.

“Dean.” She whispered his name, eyes rolling back into her head as his tongue found its way to her inner thighs, smirking against her skin. Once again (y/n) called out his name, arching her back off the mattress, giving into the strong feeling. With his tongue pressing against her arousal covered folds, his fingers started moving, circling her pulsing bundle.

“Mhm, tastes so sweet, darling.” The praise made her gasp, unable to bite down her moans. He had her trapped, was still wearing the collar around his neck, was still wearing the rosary dangling from his neck - perfectly taking on the role of a priest.

Another hunt had lured them into this town, forcing the two to act as people they have never wanted to be. And yet the two of them found their joy in tricking those that were too oblivious for their own good.

“Fuck, don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

“Dean, there you are!” John’s voice ripped Dean out of his flashback, having to clear his throat as he tried to forget the memory he had just been forced to live through once again. The elderly priest came to a halt next to Dean’s kneeling frame, waiting for the younger man to rise to his feet. “How are we feeling today? Are you ready for our service?”

“I’m getting there, thank you, John.” Dean had lost count on the days flashing past ever since Sam’s death, days that had a dark touch to them, forcing the older Winchester brother to leave his old life behind, to leave his memories behind, to leave her behind. Her. The woman who owned his heart, the woman he had unleashed his anger upon as he worked through Sam’s death.

Dean had decided to run, had left all his things behind – besides Baby – had decided to join a church he had known for years, begging the priest that knew him better than others to take him in. And now he was here, living a life he had once made fun of, a calm life that focused on prayers, on services, on those in need. But perhaps this life wasn’t as different as the one he had lead weeks ago, set on helping those that needed him.

“It always takes its time, and that is alright, Dean. God is good, he wants to give you time to grieve.” John’s words forced tears to well up in Dean’s green eyes, forced to choke on the knot growing in his throat, unable to reply. His body was trembling, forced into another memory he had tried to bury six feet under.

“Fuck, I love you, I love you so much, sweetheart.” Dean’s pants filled Baby, eyes set on (y/n)‘s pleasure drunken features. He fucked her into the backseat, no longer caring if his tight grasp was leaving marks on the leather fabric. She was everything Dean could focus on, the sweetest temptation known to humankind.

"Never let me go, Dean, promise me.” (Y/n) whispered her words, eyes momentarily focusing on Dean’s wide ones. She saw him swallow, collecting enough air to murmur a soft though clear “I promise”.

“I don’t know John, it feels like I’m clinging to things I can’t let go. I don’t have the strength to.” Dean averted his gaze in shame, fumbling with the fingers that have once searched for her, needing to feel her close. He could still hear the angry words she had spoken, the fight the two had been trapped in, a fight that had given Dean the final push, disappearing in the middle of the night.

He had left behind a note for her to find, a simple “I’m sorry, I will always love you”. Nothing more, nothing less. By now he deeply regretted the way they’ve parted, or at least how he had parted from her, Dean could only hope that she’d be able to make her peace with it, someday at least.

“Time will heal your wounds, Dean. Allow God to guide you, put your trust in him.”

……

Dean’s gasps and moans echoed through his small room, he had his head thrown back against the thin pillow, hand wrapped around his twitching cock. Her name rolled off his tongue, a sound so strong, a sound so emotional, Dean could only hope the others living in the rooms close by won’t hear him.

His hand moved with quick strokes, needing to chase the high he had been aching for for days. It was wrong - at least that’s what he’s been told - he was committing another sin, and yet Dean couldn’t care about the punishment that may eventually follow. In this very moment Dean couldn’t care about crossing paths with the Devil, or at least the one those surrounding him were fearing, he had played this game for too long, he knew what was awaiting him, eventually.

“Dean, look at me.” He was forced to lift his gaze, bloodshot eyes meeting her worried ones. (Y/n) sat down next to him, reaching for the bottle of beer he kept clinging to as if he was scared to lose yet another thing. Dean tried to protest, but he was interrupted by the clicking of her tongue, eyes snapping close once again. “Look at me, please.”

No words left him as he finally looked at her, (y/n), the one who owned his heart, his closest friend, his most trustworthy companion. Slowly she cupped his cheek, thumb running over his skin, tracing the freckles that reminded her of stars covering the night sky, a sight so beautiful she’d always stop to marvel at him.

“What can I do? Anything you want, you need.” His teeth sank into his lower lip, eyes once again fluttering close as he reached for her wrist, pulling her into his lap. (Y/n) didn’t dare speak up, allowing Dean to take what he needed, lips finding hers all too forcefully, leaving her gasping. He tasted of beer, of sadness, of pain. Dean rose to his feet with (y/n) clinging to him, forcing her down on the table, pushing her back.

Her gasps drowned out Dean’s low groans, undoing his belt, freeing his hardening cock. No further warning was spoken as he shuffled her shirt up to her waist, pulling her panties aside. Their eyes met again, a silent question being shared between them, waiting for her consent.

(Y/n) pulled him in for another teeth-clashing kiss, freeing yet another groan bubbling out of them. He parted from her to spit into his hand, lubing his cock up before he pushed into her. Both moaned in unison, set on chasing their highs, set on pushing one another over the edge with no mercy.

Dean ripped his eyes wide open seconds before he came, ripped from the flashback like those that have grieved for Jesus’ death, reliving their last moments with their saviour. Sweat pearled on Dean’s forehead, sweat that rolled down his forehead like the red blood that had once dripped from four nails, forced through skin and wood. He choked on (y/n)’s name, painting his hands and stomach white as he came, lazily pumping his cock a few more times.

“Fuck,” Dean murmured the curse, forcing a few deep breaths into his lungs before he rose to his feet, slowly cleaning himself up. He was heavily breathing, still hung up on the memories that have forced themselves into his brain, flashing before his eyes like lightning striking the dark sky.

His eyes found the wooden rosary placed on his desk, next to the white collar he was now wearing on a daily basis. Dean moved closer, slowly picking up the rosary as his doubts came flooding back through his system. He should have spoken to her, should have explained his every fear to (y/n), but he hadn’t, he had kept his mouth shut – like a scared boy.

The sound of somebody knocking on the wooden door leading to his room forced his green eyes to snap towards the door. He cleared his throat, reaching for a shirt before he walked closer. Slowly Dean pulled the door open, freezing as his eyes fell onto two pairs of all too familiar eyes.

“Sam? (Y/n)?”

#Dean Winchester smut #Dean Winchester imagine #Dean Winchester x reader #supernatural smut

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strawurberries · 1 year

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Sunset Kisses

Summary: Love is found and felt in simple places, and Vash can't help but admire you.

Authors Note: I haven't done writing for a fandom in a long time, but I hope everyone likes this :)

Warnings: None.

“It’s awfully beautiful today” he watched as a symphony of plump white clouds traveled across the sky, crossing the horizon in a flurry of deep, red tones. He couldn’t tear his eyes away no matter how hard he tried. It’s strange, he thought, how despite seeing this sight a thousand times he never got tired of it. Vaguely, he wondered what the sunset would’ve looked like on Earth. Would it have also been red? Orange? A tinge of yellow and pink? He didn’t know, but he liked to speculate. Maybe the sunset turned the sky green, he laughed a little to himself.

“Mhmm,” the woman beside him hummed, “it’s amazing.” She shuffled against the rock face, straightening her back. Her spine popped and she mumbled out a sorry and a laugh. He smiled and tried his hardest to focus back on the dancing colors of the sky, but they weren't as interesting anymore. So he decided to indulge in his desires, turning to face his companion.

Oh, how the sublimity of the heavens paled in such grand comparison to her.

Words caught under his tongue, banging against his teeth to be let out yet he didn’t dare utter a sound in fear of ruining the moment. Beautiful, beautiful, he chanted in his head like a prayer. He supposed that this was the religion Wolfwood always talked about—the utter devoutness he felt in the very core of his being, the essence of his soul. If she had asked him to give her the world, he would’ve sunk to his knees and said, “yes ma’am”.

Instead of praise or love, he uttered: “sore?” They had both been traveling for days in the desert, nonstop and unrelenting. He had worried about her at first, before she smacked him upside the head and told him to keep on walkin’. Luckily though, for the night, they had found a small outcrop of rocks that provided enough shelter to rest in peace. Without so much as a word between them, they had sat down and quietly ate their rations and watched the sky before them. Now, though, he wished he hadn’t been so distracted by the allure of nature, and instead tossed himself head-first into the beauty of his lover.

“Extremely,” she grumbled, “I don’t know how you always seem fine. You’re crazy or something’, I swear.” She lightly hit him with her elbow, finishing off the last of her jerky.

He laughed. “Maybe a little bit,” he shuffled closer and set his head on hers, faithfully finding her fingers to intertwine with his. He hummed in delight and closed his eyes. Who needed a church or pastor to get along with God, when that holy little enigma rested in the cup of her palms?

“Lonely?” she asked, lips brushing against his forehead.

“Not anymore,” he whispered.

She smiled, “good.”

He turned and looked at her, suddenly finding that all his confidence had vanished into the daylight. She tilted her head and he glanced at her lips before looking back up at her eyes—oh, those eyes. . . he wished he could stare into them all day, the colors and emotions so raw and perfect that he felt like he was defiling her with even a simple look. She had reassured him though, all those years ago, saying something along the lines of “if you’re corrupting me, then I sure wouldn’t mind seeing what hell is like alongside you.”

“Need somethin’?” she teased.

He nodded. Yes, he thought, I want you. All of you, please. No matter how selfish that is. He didn’t say that though. He didn’t deserve her in her entirety. Ah. . . he paused. She wouldn’t like him thinking like that. He could practically hear her anger within his own mind, telling him to stop acting so “damn pathetic! You’re a wonderful man, and if you put yourself down again I’m going to praise you until you cry.”

She had done that once. The thought made a blush crawl up his neck.

“Maybe,” she drew out the word, curling her tongue in her mouth, “a kiss?”

He nodded rapidly, yes yes yes yes.

She laughed a little and grinned, “such a shy boy~”

“Don’t tease me,” he whined, leaning in to meet her lips halfway. Their noses touched and such a simple gesture made his very soul quiver in so much adoration he felt like he was dying.

She grabbed his neck and let his entire body slump into her’s, melting into the divinity of her touch. Yes, he thought, this is what religion is—he understood why humanity tries so hard to reach God everyday. He understood why they kept on pushing through the sin and pain, because this. . . God, this? It made every single moment worth it.

She pulled back and let their foreheads touch, “I love you.”

He wrapped his arms around her in a desperate, loving embrace, “I love you too,” more than you will ever know. How could he explain that his very heart was no longer in his chest, but within her hands. How could he explain that he felt when she gently brushed her fingers over the veins and flesh that kept his deepest secrets and pain, lazily appreciating his love with acceptance so unconditional that at first he thought it was fake?

“I love you,” he muttered again. The words failed to show the depths of his meaning.

“I know.”

He laughed a little, burying his face in her neck, “you could’ve said it back.”

“Alright you big baby, I loooove~ you.” She brushed her fingers through his hair, kissing the soft flesh below his ear, “is that better?” she whispered.

He nodded.

God, he loved her.

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lucifers-nipple-piercing · 2 years

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𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖋𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖑 | 𝖕𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘𝖙!𝖑𝖊𝖛𝖎 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

priest!Levi x fem!religious!reader smut

i have not been able to get this idea out of my head. will probably be two parts. sorry if it's not entirely accurate! I was raised christian but not catholic

cw: non-con/coercion, sacrilegious, Catholicism, mild age-gap, corruption, virginity kink kinda, 18+ only!!

Levi's grip on his Bible tightened as he saw you walk through the church doors, greeting Father Smith with a smile. You were dressed modestly, but your dress hung snugly around your breasts and ass. He watched the way they moved with your steps as you walked down the aisle.

Levi caught his shameful thoughts, mumbling a quick prayer for forgiveness. He opened his Bible to a random page, pretending to focus on it.

It had been like this for nearly a month. You were new to the area and had quickly become a valued member of the church. You were always there--volunteering, annotating your Bible, praying. Such dedication was rare, much more so among younger people. But you had been brought up by strict, Catholic parents. You were sheltered. The Church was all you knew.

Levi suspected you'd eventually stray from your devout loyalty as you got used to being on your own and began socializing with people other than your church friends. The young priest prayed for this day. Others might be fooled by the sweet front you put on, but he knew what you were. Temptation. Sin. The Devil.

He had been a Christian for his entire life. Enough to devote his life to Christ ten years ago. He had never had much of an interest in love and sex, so the sacrifice of a celibate's life had never bothered him. Until now.

Watching the way your pretty dresses hugged your form, the way you smiled softly when you caught his eye... everything about you made his faith waiver and his cock twitch.

"Father Ackerman?"

Levi snapped back to reality, looking up to see you smiling politely.

He cleared his throat. "Good morning, y/n."

"Good morning!" you chirped, "I picked up some wine for communion, where should I leave the bottles?"

Levi resisted the urge to glance down at your cleavage. "You can stick it in the storage closet by the organ."

"Okay! I'll go--Oh!" your gaze fixed on his feet, "Father, your shoe is untied."

Before Levi could respond, you had dropped to the floor and started tying the laces.

Levi's jaw clenched, his mind running wild with the idea of you on your knees. How badly he wished you'd just look up with those big, innocent eyes and undo his pants, wrapping your hand around his--

"There!" You looked up, smiling, then blushed. "Sorry," you stood "I hope I didn't weird you out... I wasn't really thinking..." you laughed awkwardly.

"No, it's--" Levi's voice came out gravely and he quickly coughed, "it's fine."

"Okay! Well, I should get busy. Have a good day!" You beamed, turning to carry on with your chores.

"Yeah," Levi glanced down at his pants, thankful he had chosen tight boxers today. "You too."

....

"I'll lock up."

"You sure? I really don't mind." Erin looked up from his papers.

"Yeah. You stayed late yesterday."

He chuckled. "Well... Don't have to tell me twice."

Levi watched, silent, as the man finished his work and packed up, bidding him a good night.

Left to his own, he made his way to the sanctuary. It was a beautiful building and he took a moment to appreciate the tall, stained-glass windows and ornate pillars. He stopped in front of the alter, staring up at the large window depicting the crucifixion. He slowly sunk to his knees, suddenly aware of all the holy figures staring down at him.

"Father..." Levi started, "I fear I am falling victim to temptation. Even now, as I pray, lustful thoughts of her fill my mind." He takes a few deep breaths.

"I pray that you will give me strength during this, and help me to lead the righteous path. Please Father, protect me from sin and the temptations of Lucifer."

...

Levi watched through the ornate screen as the old woman walked away. This was the fifth time she had come to ask forgiveness for watching reality TV. He still wasn't sure exactly how that was a sin, but she seemed adamant it was and his attempts to reassure her had done nothing.

He glanced at his watch in the dim light. He had less than an hour left. If he was lucky, no one else would come in. He had never enjoyed taking confessions. He had met quite a few people who enjoyed being in the know of all the church drama, but he couldn't care less.

There was an echoing click as the heavy doors of the cathedral swung open, the sound of pouring rain growing louder then fading again. The click-clack of heels on marble signaled the woman approaching the confessional box. A shadow covered the window, then a nervous voice spoke.

"Bless me Father, for I have sinned."

Levi's pulse quickened as the familiar sound of your voice broke the silence.

"My last confession was, um, a year ago. I..." There was a long pause.

Levi sat in anticipation, wondering what sins such a sweet, pure girl could have.

"I've been having sinful thoughts. I've tried to ignore them. I've been praying constantly but... last night I... I gave in."

The priest adjusted his pants, his mind running wild. "What was it you gave into?"

There was a long silence. "I um... I'm sorry... it's shameful to talk about. I touched myself," you murmured.

Levi had to hold back a groan at the thought. The sweet angel adored by the church, God's obedient little girl, splayed out on her bed as she fingered herself for the first time.

"I see..." Levi swallowed, palming himself through his slacks. "Can you elaborate so I can better understand?"

"Elaborate?" Your voice wavered.

"I must better understand your sin to offer an appropriate pension."

"Of course.... Um, well, I've had sexual urges for a while but they've been getting worse recently... I've been less resilient. Last night I was reading a novel and I got to a sex scene. I usually skip past them, I always have, but I got curious this time and I read it. It was very inappropriate; so... rough and violent but..."

"But what?"

"I liked it."

Levi gritted his teeth, partly in arousal and partly in pain from his erection. "What about it did you like?" He slowly unzipped his pants, pulling his throbbing cock out. He had masturbated before, but it had been quite some time; he had to hold back a groan as his hand wrapped around his shaft.

"I had always thought of sex as something gentle and quick. Everything I have learned has taught me it is more for than man's enjoyment than for the woman's, but that wasn't the case here at all." You paused, seeming to think for a moment, "The male character focused on the woman, he did things to pleasure her before he penetrated her."

Levi hummed in acknowledgment, eyes fluttering closed as he stroked himself to her voice.

"And when they did start having penetrative sex, he was... violent! He was choking her and hitting her and I was thinking to myself how horrible it was but I..."

"You what?"

You shifted in your seat, trying to push down the knot in your stomach. "I could feel my... I could feel a burning between my legs."

Levi slowed his strokes enough for his voice to come out even "And what did you do?"

"I put the book down and I just laid there... Imagining the scene in my head, imagining myself as the woman. Could I really enjoy something so mean and painful? I think part of me doing what I did was to see if I really was attracted to those things... I was just rubbing my thighs together at first but I was just so curious what it would feel like and I couldn't resist reaching down there and..."

"What did you do, y/n?"

You blushed, fiddling with the hem of your skirt. "I started rubbing myself and--and I found my um... my entrance and pushed my fingers in and started m-moving them."

Levi audibly groaned, furiously pumping his cock. It was taking all of his willpower not to break through the thin wooden panel and fuck you against a pew. He wondered what soft and sweet sounds you'd make as your innocence was taken from you.

The thought pushed him over the edge, and he gritted his teeth as cum shot out onto his hand and pants

"Father?"

Levi struggled to catch his breath, head still spinning from the high, "Yeah?"

"W-what's my penance?"

"What you experienced is very common. Lust is something even the Godliest of people face." He had to have you. He couldn't stand it. God be damned, he had to have you. "One of our pastors will be out of town, tomorrow. Come to church tomorrow night and help with the extra work and you will be forgiven."

part 2 coming soon :)

#aot smut #levi ackerman #levi ackerman smut #levi x reader #levi x reader smut #aot x reader #aot x reader smut #levi ackerman x y/n smut #levi ackerman x you smut #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x y/n #levi ackerman fic

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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 1 month

Text

Marriage of Convenience Chapter 2

Summary: Y/N’s father is gone, and he leaves it all to her. But in 1880s Oregon, she can’t own land without a husband. Under the threat of it all being taken away by a land hungry Sheriff, what’s a girl to do with no prospects? Maybe one of the cowboys on the farm can help…

Warnings: smut, slight physical violence

The next morning Bucky was up bright and early, washed and dressed up fancier than he had been in years. Thankfully the old, more dressy clothes he had still fit. As he fed the horses and made sure they were tethered securely to each other and the wagon Y/N came out of the main house. As she came down the porch stairs she looked up and saw the men waiting for her in a line, each of them holding wild flowers.

“What is this?” she giggled, adjusting her dress and her purse as she approached the first in line, Diego.

“It’s your wedding day, hermana, you need a bouquet,” Diego answered simply.

“Aw, well thank you,” Y/N smiled widely at him. She hugged each of them as she took each small handful of flowers they gave her, clumping them together until she had a proper bouquet of flowers in her hand. At the end of the line was Luis, holding a flower crown that he had made.

“Oh Luis,” Y/N sighed, her voice becoming heavy with emotion.

“Mija,” Luis greeted her, his own eyes filling with tears. “I’m sorry your Papa couldn’t be here to watch you get married, so I hope it’s alright if I can at least give you a small father’s blessing in his place.” He glanced at Bucky then leaned towards her. “He’s a good man, Y/N. You will be taken care of. El te amara mucho (he loves you very much).”

Y/N’s eyes slightly widened and she nodded her head, lowering herself in front of him so he could place the crown on her head. She adjusted it so the pins in her hair would hold it down and then gave him a long hug. “Gracias, Papa,” she thanked him. She cupped his cheek with her free hand and then waved to them all. “Te quiero todo (I love you all),” she called to them as she backed up towards the wagon.

“Te amo (I love you)!” they called back to her, tears flowing freely amongst them.

Y/N turned and almost ran into Bucky. “Oh! Good morning, Bucky,” she greeted him.

“Happy wedding day,” he greeted her back, then took a step back and looked her up and down. “You look beautiful as always, but even more so today, sweetheart,” he said appreciatively.

“Again with the sweetheart, huh?” she joked with him. “I’m sure seeing me in a proper dress is swaying your opinions there, darlin’.”

“Darlin’? Hm, I like it,” Bucky’s eyebrow raised, a playful frown on his face. “And no, it’s not just the dress.” He winked at her. “Let’s get hitched, shall we?” He reached for her hand to help her up into the wagon seat.

“Let’s go,” Y/N agreed, choosing to ignore his hands on her hips as he helped lift her up.

The journey into the next town took four hours by wagon. By the time they reached the outskirts of the town it was already nearing noonday. Bucky steered the horses to stop in front of the church house, the Parson, Mr. Stark, living in the little home next door. Y/N suddenly became nervous as she looked up at the church. It all became very real. She was getting married. To Bucky. Right now. Her Papa wasn’t here to give her away. This was a marriage of convenience…

Bucky helped her out of the wagon but paused at the look on her face as she stared upwards at the church.

“Hey,” he pulled her chin with his fingers to direct her gaze towards him. Y/N looked at him with panicked eyes. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I know this isn’t exactly what you may have had in mind for your wedding someday, but it’s gonna be okay, alright?” Y/N took a breath through her nose and exhaled quickly through her mouth, trying to calm herself as she listened to him. She nodded her head as she gripped her bouquet of flowers tightly. “Just focus on me, it’ll be over before you know it.”

Bucky tied the horses to the post then led her towards Mr. Stark’s door. Thankfully he was home. “Ah, Mr. Barnes, Miss Y/L/N, how nice to see you both. It’s been a long time.”

“Yes, sir, how are you?” Bucky greeted him.

“I’m well. My my Miss Y/L/N, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so dolled up!” he complimented her, although it made her cringe internally.

“Thank you, sir,” Y/N said politely. Bucky snickered quietly at the tightness in her eyes.

“What brings you my way?” he asked.

“Well, we’re here to get married,” Bucky said, winding his arm around Y/N’s back, pulling her closer to him.

“Oh! How wonderful! Congratulations to you both!” Mr. Stark shook both their hands. “Let me get my things and the missus so she can be our witness and I’ll meet you next door.”

“Thank you,” Y/N bowed her head slightly to him and led Bucky back out the door to the church building. As they entered through the front door and walked down the aisle she slowed as she stared up at the cross in front. “I hate churches,” she mumbled.

“Really? Why?” Bucky huffed a laugh.

“I always found them too quiet, too…sterile,” she said, looking away from the cross and flicking her gaze around at the white and brown furnishings.

“Hm, I can see that,” Bucky agreed. “Can I tell you something?”

“What?” she asked, finally looking at him.

“I don’t know if there’s a God,” he whispered, giving her a sheepish smile.

“Ah! Bucky Barnes, how dare you!” Y/N dramatically gasped, her hand pressing against her chest in mock disgust.

Bucky laughed at her acting. “Do you believe there’s a God?” he asked her.

“No,” she answered quickly.

“Why not?” He asked genuinely.

“If there is a God, he’s got a lot to answer for. No all-loving, omnipotent being that I was taught about would allow bad things to happen to good people. All that praise to an invisible man in the sky, and for what?” Y/N sneered at the cross. “Now if there is a God, I think he’s more like the one the Natives worship. The “great spirit,” is what they call it. Not some man, more like a power in nature, you know?”

“I like that idea better,” Bucky said, watching her shift warily. “Where is that damn Parson?”

“Watch your language in the house of the Lord, Mr. Barnes,” Mr. Stark chastised as he came through a door on the side.

“Sorry,” Bucky apologized quickly, his eyes comically wide, making Y/N have to fight a smile growing on her face.

“We’re here, dears. Congratulations!” Mrs. Stark came in next, coming up and giving them both a firm handshake.

“Alright, if you’ll both stand here,” Mr. Stark directed them. “I assume you have rings to give to each other?”

“Yes, sir,” Bucky said, fishing out the rings from his pocket and handing his ring to Y/N to place on his finger soon.

“Let’s begin.”

Mr. Stark read the wedding vows, having them promise “to have and to hold,” “to honor and to cherish,” the basic wedding vows that most couples would recite. They exchanged rings and signed multiple copies of the marriage certificate.

“I now pronounce you, husband and wife. You may kiss your bride,” he finished.

Bucky beamed at Y/N, his wide smile making his eyes squint at her as she smiled back at him. He took her face in his hands and kissed her. This one was more firm than the night before, his head angling to deepen the kiss. Y/N’s free hand gripped one of his wrists as he kissed her, the tenderness of the moment making her inhale shakily.

They pulled away from each other and Mrs. Stark clapped for them.

“Congratulations! Happy wedding day!” she smiled. “Now take this over to the courthouse and you’ll be all official.” She made sure the ink was dry on the marriage certificates and passed them on.

“Thank you, to both of you,” Y/N smiled at them. “Have a wonderful rest of your day.”

“The same to you!”

Bucky held her hand as he guided her out of the church and towards the wagon again. They quickly went to the courthouse, informing them of her father’s death and giving the clerk one of the copies of the certificate to get it officially stamped and archived. From there they went straight to the bank and did the same, making sure all of Y/N’s father’s affairs were in order and giving them a copy of the marriage certificate to show that Bucky was now the “man of the estate.”

After a few more errands, selling and bartering with crops they had brought from the farm, they decided to grab a late lunch at the local restaurant and bar. As they entered the noise enveloped them, the travelers getting a bite to eat as they passed through, the locals talking about the local gossip and news, and the loud drunks in the corner making a scene as always. Bucky led Y/N over to the bar to order some food, then guided her over to an empty table near the front of the restaurant by the window.

“Well, we did it,” Y/N sighed as she settled into the chair as they waited for their food.

“We did,” Bucky smiled.

Y/N gave him a soft smile back. She thought about what this all meant for them. She would be able to keep the land, the farm, be able to keep paying the men as her staff, hire new ones when the brothers left, but all under Bucky’s name. He had made it clear that he didn’t want to run the farm and would leave it to her to make all the decisions, which she appreciated. But now what? Once they went back home as man and wife, what did that mean for them? As she opened her mouth to try to broach the subject she was interrupted.

“Miss Y/L/N, back in town so soon?” Sheriff Pierce sidled up to their table, the stink of stale alcohol on his breath as he plopped down on the open seat next to her, too close for her liking.

“Sheriff,” she acknowledged him coldly.

“Oh, and with Mr. Barnes as well.” The Sheriff barely looked at him, his hungry stare staying on Y/N, hiccupping as a wide mischievous smile spread across his face. Bucky glared at him.

“Sheriff Pierce,” Bucky answered, but his tone was so menacing that it scared Y/N. She had never seen or heard him like this before. “We just came to town for some business. But you must congratulate us,” Bucky smirked as he wrapped an arm around Y/N’s back.

“Congratu…wha’?” Pierce mumbled.

“Meet the new Mrs. Barnes,” Bucky’s smirk deepened as he pulled Y/N’s chair closer to him and away from Pierce.

“Mrs. Barnes?!” Sheriff Pierce suddenly screeched, standing up and knocking over his chair. The commotion quieted the entire restaurant, all eyes focused on their table. Y/N stopped herself from shrinking away from the attention, lifting her chin in defiance to Pierce as he stared at them, mouth gaping. “You got married? To him?” Pierce pointed at Bucky as he stumbled slightly.

“Yes, I did,” Y/N said. “Thank you for your kind offer those few weeks ago, but unfortunately I have had my heart set elsewhere for some time.” Bucky’s eyes widened slightly as he glanced at her quickly. “Congratulate us, Sheriff, on this fine wedding day,” she gave him a sickly sweet smile, her eyes flashing with triumph.

Pierce’s face was flushed red, his eyes bulging as his gaze flickered between the two of them. He floundered for a moment, but after hearing someone clear their throat nearby he quickly tried to compose himself. “Hm, yes, happy…wedding day, to you both,” he mumbled.

“Thank you,” Bucky said, his arm tightening around Y/N’s shoulders. “You have a good day, now,” he said as a dismissal.

Pierce sneered at him and mumbled something incoherent before turning away and tripping over the fallen chair. He nearly sprawled out on the floor but caught himself on a nearby post, quickly straightening himself with a grunt, before leaving the restaurant.

The noise steadily rose around the restaurant again as a few of the patrons approached Y/N and Bucky to congratulate them, offering to buy them a dessert or handing them what little money they could spare as a gift. Once their food was brought to them and they were left alone again they sat silently as they ate.

“I don’t think that will be the last we see of him,” Y/N muttered as she swallowed a piece of steak.

“I think you’re right,” Bucky replied, shoving more mashed potatoes in his mouth and looking out the window. “There he is,” he gestured to the side. Y/N looked out the window and saw Pierce, trying to hide in an alleyway near their wagon but failing miserably. She sighed heavily. “Sweetheart,” Bucky’s smirk returned as he looked up at her. “What do you say to giving him a show?”

“A show? Of what?” Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed, not understanding his innuendo.

“Kiss me,” Bucky licked his lips as his eyes flickered to her mouth and back up to her eyes.

“What? Here? Now?” Y/N asked him incredulously, her eyes darting to the people around them. Even when married it wasn’t customary to see couples kissing each other in public settings.

“Yes. Right here, right now,” Bucky leaned closer to her. “We’re newly married and madly in love with each other.”

“Oh are we?” Y/N chuckled.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Come on now, wife. What kind of newlyweds would we be if we weren’t obsessed with each other? Even in public?”

“I don’t know, husband, perhaps the kind who have not had this discussion yet,” she grew serious, a frown settling on her lips.

Bucky blinked, then closed his eyes and sighed. “I’m sorry, you’re right. We haven’t talked about this yet. What it all means for us.”

“Mhm,” Y/N agreed curtly as she finished her food, drinking the last of her water.

“Well, we’ve got a four hour ride home. We can figure it out on the way,” Bucky tried to clear the air, his eyes looking hopeful. Y/N hated that he was so expressive with just his eyes. It made it impossible for her to stay mad at him.

“Alright,” she agreed. “Let’s go home.”

They paid the bill and headed back towards the wagon. As they got closer Pierce tried to look like he wasn’t watching them. As Bucky turned to help Y/N back up into the front seat she stopped him, her hand pushing against his chest so that he backed up into the side of the wagon.

“What are you–?” Bucky asked before she cut him off by pulling him down by his collar and slotting her lips onto his in a deep kiss. Bucky inhaled sharply as she held him firmly to her. His hands gripped her arms as she continued kissing him, giving a show to everyone around. She slowly pulled away but not too far, her nose still bumping his, her eyes searching his face before pecking his lips once more. “Mmh, you’re making quite a show,” Bucky breathed, his voice coming out deeper and more hoarse.

“Yes, but that one was just for me,” Y/N smirked at him this time, patting his cheek before turning and hoisting herself into the wagon seat. Bucky huffed out a laugh, his cheeks flushing pink at her forwardness. Pierce let out a loud scoff before heading down the alleyway he was hiding in.

The ride home was long but productive as they talked about the day and what they expected out of the relationship now that it was official.

“You’ll need to move into the main house with me,” Y/N stated matter-of-factly.

“Of course,” Bucky said.

“And if you weren’t in my room there would be lots of questions.”

“Definitely.”

“Sleeping in the same bed.”

“A must,” he fought the smile threatening to give away his excitement.

“And, um…” Y/N stopped, swallowing past the sudden dryness in her throat.

“And?” Bucky urged her on.

“And…I suppose we’ll need to, you know, fulfill our marriage duties,” she rushed the words out.

“Eventually, yes,” Bucky replied.

“Eventually?”

Bucky pulled the horses over to a creek nearby to water them. He jumped down from the wagon seat and helped her down before stretching his arms and legs. Y/N watched him until he sighed heavily and turned back to her.

“Y/N, believe me when I say…” he walked up to her, not stopping and making her back up into the side of the wagon this time, “...that I would love nothing more than to have you tonight.” He caged her against the wagon with his arms on either side of her shoulders. Y/N’s heart felt like it was diving straight down to the pit of her stomach. “That I have thought of little else besides you since I came to the farm years ago.” Her eyes widened at that information. “That my feelings towards you may not be completely reciprocated for a while.” Y/N felt a twinge of guilt at that. She did like Bucky and found him to be quite attractive. She had just never let herself really get beyond that point with anyone that had been at the farm. They were her father’s employees, friends, and eventually became like family, so any kind of childlike crushes or romantic feelings were always tamped down in her mind before they could even start. But now he wasn’t just a friend or a part of the family. He was her family. Her husband. And she enjoyed kissing him. “But I don’t want to do anything that you aren’t ready or comfortable with. So yes, eventually, we will “fulfill our marriage duties,” as you so eloquently put it,” he gave her a smirk, but there was a sadness in his eyes, “just not tonight.”

Y/N felt conflicted. A part of her knew she wasn’t quite ready yet to give herself over to him, even though she could now that they were married. Another part of her really wanted to let him have her tonight and show her what all the hullabaloo was over the wedding night. Being raised by a father who didn’t know how to raise a girl had come with its drawbacks, one of them not being able to help her or educate her well enough when it came to matters of womanhood or bodily functions.

Bucky could see the conflict in her eyes and lifted his hand to her face. He cupped her cheek and rubbed the underside of her eye, then lifted a finger and swiped down the furrow in her brow, making her relax. “It’s alright, sweetheart. There’s no rush.”

“I-I know, and I appreciate it, Buck,” she sighed. “I do like you. And I do think you’re quite handsome,” Bucky’s smile returned at that statement. “I just…I don’t know how to do any of this,” she said as she anxiously wrung her hands together and looked away from him, unable to hold his gaze.

“I know,” he said. “I’m no expert at it, either. So we’ll just take our time and see where it leads us.” He lifted himself off the wagon and took her hands, rubbing her knuckles with his thumbs lightly. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Y/N agreed, still not able to fully look at him.

**picture is from Pinterest, A.I. generated, so no known "artist" or "creator"**

@wintrsoldrluvr @vicmc624 @itvy5601 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #smut #cowboy!bucky barnes x reader #cowboy!bucky barnes #wild west

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leclerqueensainz · 1 year

Text

A Family Of Three (C.L 16) - Prologue

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x OC!Marie Anderson Synopsis: Charles and Marie ended any chance of a relationship years ago. They just didn't expect to have to share custody of a child after the death of their best friend.

*In this story, Jules Bianchi died in 2019, not 2015, which changes some facts in the careers of the drivers.*

English is not my first language and there may be some errors throughout the chapters! I did my best and hope it is easy to understand.

⚠️Warning: Mention of Jules' death and difficulties in dealing with grief. Overall, there's a lot of angst, sorry!

Word Count: 1.099.

🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨

April 19, 2019 - Monte Carlo, Monaco

Inhale. One, two, three. Exhale.

Inhale. Don't cry. One, two, three. Exhale.

Inhale. Don't cry, dammit! One, two, three. Exhale.

Inhale. Wake up, Marie. One, two, three. Exhale.

Inhale. Please wake up, please. One, two, three. Exhale.

"Marie?" Charles' voice makes me lose my focus. "We need to go in." I'm facing away from him. I don't want to look at him. I don't want my first image of him to be of him in black, in a church. at the funeral of one of our best friends.

Inhale. Don't cry. Don't look at my ex-boyfriend. Wake up from this horrible nightmare. Exhale.

"Dear, let's go." "We have to do this for him." He touches my shoulder.

Cold. Charles' hand is cold on my shoulder. Too cold. cold like a corpse. cold like Jules.

Don't I have a coat on? Why don't I have a coat on? I don't remember putting one on. Hell, I forgot to put on a coat before leaving the house.

"I forgot to put on a coat." And that's what I say. The first thing I say to my ex-boyfriend after six months without seeing him is, "I miss you." It's what I say to Charles in front of the church where our best friend's body will be mourned.

Charles doesn't say anything. He takes his hand off my shoulder. I can feel and hear his movements behind me, and in a few seconds, the warmth of his jacket warms me up.

"Feeling better now?" he asks. But it's not better. I need my coat.

"I need to go home and get my coat." I say.

"Take mine, Marie." He says. tense and tired voice.

But I don't want to. I don't want to accept his jacket. I want to go home and get my coat.

"No," I repeat. "I want my coat." I don't want your jacket. "I need to go home and get my coat, Charles." I turn to him.

And there it is: the shadow of a man I once loved and still love. Broken. Lifeless. Anyone looking at him now could swear it was him who would be buried today.

lifeless with green eyes, hopeless. Just tired, exhausted. I hate him now. I hated having to look at him like this. Seeing him finished I'm not used to this. I'm not used to forgetting my coat. I'm not used to losing friends or burying them.

"Marie..." He takes a deep breath. "Don't do this, please." Let's go in. "They need us." Lifeless eyes shine with tears.

My heart tightens. I don't want to feel this now.

Inhale. One, two, three. Exhale.

"I don't want to go in there without my coat, Charles." It hurts.

"I know. But you need to go in there, Marie." He says. "You need to go in there with me." His voice is low. "You need to go in there with me, because I can't do this without you." “I need you now, Marie.” "Please, please, please." And he cries.

The shadow of the man I love cries. And I cry too. because it hurts. And it hurts because it's wrong. It's wrong because I shouldn't be wearing my ex-boyfriend's jacket. It's wrong because I shouldn't have forgotten my coat. It's wrong because we shouldn't be here. It's wrong because we shouldn't be burying our best friend. It's wrong because Jules shouldn't have died.

We shouldn't go to Jules' funeral, but we go anyway. Holding hands. with heavy souls and broken hearts. me and the shadow of the man I love. Both of us Two shadows of what we used to be

Charles' hand remains cold, even intertwined with mine. His body trembles, slowly but enough to be noticeable to those who pay close attention.

Our steps are heavy down the church aisle. There are invisible chains with lead balls at the ends, which do not allow us to walk faster. And there are invisible hands pressing our heads down so we can't lift our gazes forward.

We stop in front of the few steps that separate us from the coffin. I look at Charles; Charles looks at me. Both are in mourning. He nods to me, and I squeeze his hand. We climb one step at a time. slowly, without haste. too afraid that everything is too real. that we have to say goodbye so soon.

"You came." Christine's voice is present behind us.

We stop climbing and face each other, Charles and I. Charles with his lifeless eyes full of tears and me with a too-tight heart

We turn around, our hands quickly separating and joining again with the movement.

Christine is there. also in mourning. lifeless and without the heart that is probably inside the coffin with her son's lifeless body.

I wish I could say some comforting words to her. But how can you comfort a woman without a heart? My condolences? My feelings? All of this seems meaningless now. It feels too empty.

Charles clears his throat. The grip on my hand gets stronger.

"We're so sorry, Christine." His voice sounds even more broken.

I just stare at her. Standing there in front of me, wearing that heavy mourning that warms her flesh but leaves her soul as cold as my ex-boyfriend's hand, She thanks Charles for the greetings and stares at me. eyes so swollen from crying.

I know it hurts her to see us here, so alive, while her son's body is slowly decaying in that coffin. I know it goes through her head how unfair this is. How wrong it is for her son, who always fought to keep us together, to be the only one not here now.

She continues to stare at me, waiting. But I keep my mouth closed and empty, just like everything else in me. Minutes pass, and we both stare at each other in pain. I wanted to say the most beautiful words to her, but now I can only think of the ugliest and cruelest ones, because none of this is beautiful. It's horrible and raw.

She climbs a few steps, stopping just one below where we are. Her tall stature makes us the same height. She reaches out and takes my hand, which is free from Charles' grip. Then, without any more words, she pulls me towards her and hugs me. I hug her back and pull Charles to join us. There were no words. Just pain and mourning.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x black!reader #charles leclerc smut #carlos sainz fanfic #pierre gasly #charles leclerc x leitor #charles leclerc x reader angst #f1 smut #f1 x y/n #carlos sainz x reader #charles lecrelc #lewis #mick

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anotherghoul666 · 1 year

Note

Okay so the thought:

Alkaline is about Sleep.

In the song, Vessel sings about how the subject of the song has changed him (this one's pretty obvious, Vessel was presumably just A Normal Dude before Sleep came to him and chose him), how the subject is undefinable (like how it's been said that Sleep is a very reductive name for what the deity is), and there's also how the song discusses the subject in contrasting terms, like how Sleep gives humans both dreams but also nightmares.

It's less a theory and more just like jumbled thoughts, but a lot of their songs too can easily be read as either love songs or songs about Vessel and his relationship with Sleep.

And we are back with another “AnotherGhoul goes fucking overboard about Sleep Token” essay once again!!! Under the cut: pronoun use in songs, the heteronormativity of the music industry, and a full lyric analysis and break down of the song “Distraction”!

I agree 100% with your “Alkaline is about Sleep” theory. In fact, I personally interpret a lot of Sleep Token's songs as being about Sleep, or about Vessel's relationship with Sleep, or their history through the years. Probably more songs than people would think. It's just my opinion of course, I don't know the guys, I don't know everything, people are gonna have wildly different interpretations of their lyrics I'm sure. There's a lot of "Vessel talks about an real life abusive relationship he's been through / someone he pined for" floating around and that's completely valid! Interpretations are just that, they are subjective to our own lenses and biases and they are wholly personal. I tend to have a big bias of religious trauma, the damages of out of control zealotry and religious mania, and I read Sleep Token's lyrics through that lens. I don't disagree with the abusive relationship interpretation for instance, I just see it as an abusive relationship with your god / your church, while people see it as an abusive relationship with a woman / partner. Both are totally valid.

And when I say most, if not all, Sleep Token songs could be about Sleep, yes I mean even the ones that use she/her pronouns for the subject. In fact, the use of she/her pronouns seems very on purpose to me.

Clearly the band knows how to play the pronouns game in terms of lyrics. Because in interviews and official texts, they do refer to Sleep using he/him pronouns. But I also believe they know how to play the commercial game so damn well (I'd be SHOCKED if Sleep Token was any of these musicians' first band, especially Vessel and II. There is no fucking way you have this level of skill raw on a first project. And I'm not saying this because of technical skill; you can develop excellent technical skill just practicing at home, without any live music experience. I say that because of how confidently Vessel displays voice faults and cracks and the raw jagged edges of his vulnerability; because of how confidently II shits on conventional drumming conventions and techniques for the benefit of his organic flow. Imo, and I say that as a drummer, confidence to mess up and fail while keeping completely in style? You can't get that from playing for yourself alone. Anyway, I digress.)

My point was about commercial sales of music and maintaining the "sellability" of a band. I believe the team at Sleep Token are aware of how male-coded Vessel's voice is, how he'll automatically be assumed to be a man, and thus he'll also be assumed to be straight. So for the intensity and the visceral nature of the lyrics to land with the wider audience, using he/him as pronouns to sing your undying love to and desperation for when you're a male-coded singer? Unfortunately still not possible in today's culture, at least without turning the entire focus of the band into who is Vessel, is he gay, and who is he singing about. Since it's extremely obvious Vessel and the numbers do not want the band to be about them in any way, as stated by their efforts to maintain perfect anonymity and also how they flat out said it in interviews, it would be counterproductive for their mission to have all of the listeners’ attention on Vessel as a man and on his possible relationships. Plus, they also need to make sure their music is commercially viable and reaches the widest numbers possible, because the more numbers, the more worshipers for Sleep. While a male-coded vocalist using he/him pronouns in those heavily romantic / co-dependent lyrics would make them a sensation in the greater LBGTQ+ community, the sad truth is it would alienate a non-negligible portion of the white-cis-straight-men that unfortunately make up most of the fan base for genres like metal, rock, prog, etc, AKA very male dominated genres.

All of that to say: Sleep is She in some songs, Sleep is You in some songs, and there's even an argument to be made for Sleep being I in some songs too. Sleep is the omnipresent prism from which to evaluate and interpret Sleep Token's lyrics.

Which leads me to! Another interesting example of this “Sleep is She” theory. Distraction.

Distraction is the 8th track in Sleep Token’s 2nd full length album, and 4th release overall, This Place Will Be Your Tomb in 2021. This places the lyrics fairly far in Sleep Token’s journey. I view it as a sort of “here we go again, getting even further into the cult than we anticipated” type of song. So I do view it heavily through the religious / devotional lens, and that leads to a good example of Sleep being spoken about with she/her pronouns.

Oh, and I know I can tell I'm falling further again But I won't turn away, it's far too late for me

I assume, given song writing being credited to Vessel and II, that the I in these lyrics represents Vessel himself and/or the numbers / vessels as a whole entity. I will use the term Vessel from now on but if you want to read it as “the whole band” it will be coherent too. Vessel’s indoctrination to Sleep is getting stronger and stronger. It’s now been five years since the beginning of the band (and presumably Sleep’s visit to his dreams). His life likely has completely changed in those five years, and it shows no sign of stopping anytime soon. He’s falling further into the rapture of Sleep, into his worship, into this cult of his, giving the deity more and more space in his life. He can’t stop it or back away either. Not anymore. Not after he’s made his whole life revolve around this band and their god. He’s gone too far. A sort of sunk cost fallacy he’s trapped himself into: can’t back out when you’ve been this transformed by a deity, when you’ been this engulfed and consumed by feelings and emotions for your new god. That’s why people stay in abusive relationships for decades (another nod to the “Vessel is in a metaphorical abusive relationship with Sleep” thing I have firm belief in). That’s why people stay in churches or organized religions or cults for their entire lives. It’s so much harder to disentangle yourself and back out from something if you’ve not been in long. The longer you’re in, the more you’ll feel it’s too late to save yourself.

'Cause I am broken into fractions

Now, the fans of the “the she/her pronouns songs are about a woman in Vessel’s life” interpretation will probably take this like as meaning Vessel’s heartbroken. He’s into pieces after this relationship fell apart or got hurtful. Which, valid interpretation, as I said. But. I also see this as religious and related to Sleep. A core tactic that is used in organized religions and cults is thought reform. To super simplify a complex process performed over months to years of a person’s life, to reform someone, essentially, is to break what the person was initially, and rebuild it as the religion / cult wants. Reform. Re-form. New form, new shape. Reformation, to be reshaped and assume a new form as intended. Sleep breaks the human and reshapes it into the vessel that he needs. This echoes the “Vessel was just a normal dude before Sleep chose him” thought from the initial ask. Vessel has been broken down into fractions over the last five years. Potentially physically, transformed into a non-human creature as the fandom likes to riff on. But at the very least mentally. He is little percentages of himself reassembles and put in new sequences, fractions to make bigger, new equations he can’t even begin to understand. He is numbers to the mathematician that is Sleep. Moving parts, broken pieces to move around at will, tools. Vessel is a tool for Sleep. Sleep holds his pieces together. If he moves away from Sleep, what’s left? Pieces, fractions, not a human. He will never be able to go back to who he was before Sleep. Without Sleep he’s a pile of jumbled numbers without meaning. Then, because I am in deep deep love with Lovecraftian horror, and I see Sleep as a cosmic horror / eldritch old god type of creature, I also have to mention the mind breaks. In Lovecraft, when a human lays eyes on an Old One, or obtains knowledge of these cosmic deity’s existence, it shatters their minds. It’s something that happens in almost every eldritch creature encounter, or when forbidden knowledge is attained, because the human mind, the brain, is too feeble to understand and contain such knowledge. The human mind doesn’t know what to do when faced with something so unfathomable, so unnamable, so truly profoundly insane, as an eldritch god, so the mind breaks. Shatters. Becomes pieces. Fractions. When Vessel saw Sleep in his dreams the first time, his mind probably broke. Which is partly why he’s so unhinged and feral on some of his lyrics. Human morality and what is “normal” doesn’t have a hold on him anymore. His mind is unchained, yes, but shattered.

Oh, and I am driven to distraction

I especially love the word play in this line, because with the way Vessel accentuates and pronounces “distraction”, it sounds like “destruction” too. Distraction, because Sleep has taken and will take, foreseeably forever, the entirety of Vessel’s brain space. He is distracted from normal life, normal human responsibilities. Distracted from the mundane. Because what could be more important than the deity you’ve dedicated yourself to. Everything pales next to Sleep’s will, his strength, his mission. Vessel’s mission. Of course he’s distracted from everything else. He hasn’t been able to concentrate on “normal” life since Sleep appeared to him. Destruction echoes what I’ve touched on before. Whoever Vessel was before Sleep has been destroyed. There are some parts left, but they’re jumbled and glued together wrong. They’re Other. He was destroyed and rebuilt by Sleep. I just really enjoy how this lines plays on both fronts, a seemingly innocent one, and a much deeper, darked permeation of Sleep in Vessel’s core.

Which finally leads to the she/her pronouns lines: Oh, and I swear she is not like any other, no Something much more than I could ask for (It's too late for me)

That’s Sleep he’s talking about. Like the original ask said about Alkaline. This is about Sleep. Sleep is not like any other. Not like any other god or deity Vessel might have encountered in his human life before. To worship Sleep is unlike anything he’s been taught or potentially forced to worship before, in his youth, etc. Sleep is a whole different breed of god. Of creature. Of living being. And Sleep is too much. Maybe he was too much from the get-go, as I touched upon before with the Lovecraftian mind break theory. Maybe he became too much as Vessel got closer. Maybe he demanded too much and pushed Vessel part his limits. Whatever ways it manifested, it’s clear Sleep is Too Much for a human to handle or comprehend, so for to be chosen by him, to bear his scepter, to wield his words, to lead a now world-wide church in Worship, that has so be so incredibly heavy to bear. No wonder Vessel says it was more than he asked for.

And then the lyrics repeat safe for this one line that differs once: Oh, and I am driven to distraction With each and every interaction (it's too late for me)

Which still hints at the same idea, that every time he interacts with Sleep, he falls further and further in. He becomes less and less human. He breaks a little more every time.

Tl;dr the “she” in this song is so clearly Sleep in my opinion, the walls are lined with religious/cult and devotional references.

#asks #sleep token #one more Sleep Token essay down the hatch guys XD I will never stop hahahahaha #thank you so much for the ask Agent and for the super interesting thought thumble you've sent me down on! I loved it! I appreciate you!!

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i-fondued · 2 years

Text

Kinktober 2022 | Ghost - Confessional

Confessional with Cardinal Copia is a little unique when it comes to one member of the Sisters of Sin, the real question who is confessing to who…

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x Reader/Sister of Sin

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Warnings: Oral, squint and there is a fem!dom, public-ish sex, church sex??

A/N: This has lived in my head since the idea slid into my brain and I had to get it out before I had yet another dream about Copia. Solid PWP, with plenty of my dirty ex-catholic thoughts mixed in. This no-name Sister of Sin is going to end up being the main character of any of my Ghost writing going forward because I am so uncomfortable writing in a y/n style like the other stories I’ve been writing the last few days. I’ve also given up on trying for something every day as I am a full time working mom now and I have to eventually sleep…

Anyways!!! Enjoy!

AO3 Link HERE

The bells of the abbey tolled, the sound echoing off the stone of the abbey that housed the church of satan. Thirteen chimes, a nod to his darkness below but also the way to tell us siblings of sin that our day of studies were over for the day.

I stood from my spot deep in the abbey’s large library, surrounded by dusty tomes that I had been entrusted to translate from old world Latin to English, and stretched. The sound of my back cracking practically echoed in the quiet hall.

“Buongiorno, Sister.”

I jumped slightly, used to being left alone to focus on my task, and looked towards the person who spoke. Standing with his hands wringing together softly, the sound of black leather squeaking made me smile softly. This man, who looked so unsure of himself and was barely able to keep his mismatched eyes on me, was dressed in his red cassock today. His traditional face paint a stark contrast against his pale skin. His beretta was perched on top of his head, slightly askew. I walked over to him and reached up to adjust his hat, hand sliding to caress his cheek softly.

“Afternoon, Cardinal.” I smiled at him, his cheeks flushing instantly as I touched his face. “What can I help you with?”

“S-sister Imperator asked that I check in on the sisters who haven’t had a confessional in a few months.” He spoke quietly, his hands flinching toward mine at my sides before thinking better of it. “You’ve gone the longest, she’d like you to come to me after dinner this evening.”

“Ah, of course. I’ve been preoccupied with all my translations and research recently.” I turned away from him, stepping out of his range just as Copia lost the battle of wills and his hand slipped to my waist. “Shall I meet you in the confessional booth at 7?”

I turned back to look at him, eyes locked on him and he nodded mutely. I smiled again at him, turning back to my work at the table and bending over to move things around. I could hear his breathing increase just slightly as I bent over, giving him a better look at my curves as I collected my work in its proper folders. “I’ll see you then, Cardinal.”

~*~

Dinner was a calm affair for once, Papa Emeritus III was currently on tour with his band of nameless ghouls. The abbey felt empty without his presence home and with less ghouls prowling around the halls the dinner went smoother than it had in a long time.

Every so often my eyes would drift up to the long head table where the prior Papas sat, Copia on the end next to Sister Imperator. His mismatched eyes would lock on mine and I could feel a blush spread over my cheeks. My table mates none the wiser to who I was eyeing at the table, talking amongst themselves. When the plates were being cleared, some siblings tucked in for the post dinner desserts and coffee time before curfew, I excused myself from the table and slipped from the room.

I darted down the hallways to the vestibule prior to our large worship hall we used for Sunday night masses and holiday mass. I saw the door to the confessional was closed and I smirked, my hands reaching up to slip the Bobby pins from my habit. I knocked twice and the grate slid to the side; a familiar pair of dark rimmed eyes locked with mine.

“Evening Cardinal.”

“Sister.”

The door opened a fraction and I had barely the space to slip into the tiny room, not much bigger than a broom closet. Along the back wall was a bench where a member of the clergy would sit to listen to the confessions of the siblings of sin and ghouls during working hours. There was a small glass window on the wall as well, the pane tinted red caused the small space to feel bathed in blood. Combined with the constant smell of thick incense and the smoke of the candles it gave the space a heady feeling.

The door to the space had barely closed before Copia was on me, my back slamming against the wall across from the other empty confessional room. His hand yanked the habit from my head, my hair spilling from its confines, and his fingers instantly tangled in the strands. I moaned softly as his painted lips pressed frantically against mine, his tongue brushing softly against my bottom lip. I let my tongue slip from my own mouth to tangle with his own, coaxing it to follow my own. My arms wrapped around his neck, fingers tugging gently on the longer strands at the base of his neck as we kissed. His hand came to settle at my waist and I could feel his fingers pressing into the flesh, likely to bruise if he kept up the pressure.

“Cardinal…” I moaned, tilting my head to the side to take a breath and his lips traveled down the column of my neck leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. His teeth nipped at the pulse just under my ear and I couldn’t help the way it made my hips jump forward to grind against his.

He parted his cassock and slid his right leg between my legs, pressing his knee up against my core as I soaked through my underwear. I rolled my hips against his thigh, a shutter running through me as heat pooled in my belly. My nails dug into Copia’s neck and hair, my back arching against the wall and thrusting my chest into his.

“S-sister.” Copia groaned, forehead resting against my shoulder as he rolled his hips against mine. I could feel how hard he was already and a thrill shot down my spine.

“Touch me, Cardinal.” I hissed, taking his hand to press against my breasts. Like the good student he was, he understood instantly.

His fingers brushed against my hardening nipple through my bra and robes. He shuttered quietly, still rubbing himself against my hip as I rode his thigh absentmindedly. He rolled the bud between his fingertips and I hissed under my breath before my hand cupped his cheeks, pulling him up to kiss him fiercely. It was getting hot in this tiny room, I could feel sweat sticking the back of my robes to my skin and I could see how red Copia’s face was even in the rose colored room. I could see the thick pain around his eyes wobbled faintly, I couldn’t imagine how hot he was in the layers of wool he was wearing.

Pulling my lips away from his I focused on pushing the biretta off his head, flinging it to the bench to our right. Next I pulled off his caplet, then I tugged at his long belt with its intricately beaded grucifix and tossed it to the side. The heat of the room felt sweltering suddenly as Copia pushed forward, lips coming back to suck and nip at my neck while grinding against me. I moaned quietly as my fingers started to undo the many buttons of his cassock, fingers deftly starting at his neck before pushing against him to give me space to undo more of the buttons. When I reached his waist he took over, seemingly just as impatient as me for my touch on his bare skin. Quickly he shrugged out of the heavy wool coat and tossed it to the side.

Under the cassock he wore tight fitting trousers, leaving nothing to the imagination of what his cock looked like as it strained against the stiff fabric. He wore a black button up with black suspenders to hold his trousers up. My fingers twitched and I could help but to softly run my fingers against his straining cock, his whole body shuttered and he groaned into my neck, bucking softly in my hand.

“F-fanculo…Sister.” He whimpered, his hands tugging at my own robes. I grabbed his wrists and he paused, his one white eye practically glowing in the low light. “Per favore, let me touch you.”

“I want you to taste me, Cardinal.”

Copia’s eyes blew wide, surprise written on his face, as a deep red blush spread across his cheeks and spread down his neck. There was a squeak that slipped past his lips as every joint in his body locked up. Eagerly he nodded before dropping to his knees in front of me. His chest looked like it was heaving as he locked his gaze with me, my own cheeks flushing as I watched him push my skirts up my thighs. I grabbed the fabric and pulled it up to tuck into the band of my bra, I knew I wanted to make sure my hands were free to be able to slide my fingers in his hair.

Copia brushed gentle kisses against my skin, his tongue slipping out to taste my skin as he went. His fingers hooked around the waistband of panties, letting his fingernail scrape softly against the sensible skin near my hips as he pulled the scrap of fabric till it fell down my legs. He paused, allowing me to step out of them and kick them to the side before he greedily threw my left leg over his shoulder. My breath came in short bursts as I felt his fingers teasingly run against my outer lips, I couldn’t help but whimper as I bucked against his fingers. He teased me for a few moments, his breath softly brushing against my bare inner thighs as he watched with hooded eyes as his fingers slid back and forth.

He paused only for a moment, pressing a soft kiss to the very inside of my thighs before I felt his fingers spread me open before his tongue brush against me in one long languid brush. My head fell back, thudding against the wood of the wall, and my fingers tangled in his hair as he began to tease my entrance with the tip of his tongue. His lips descended against me, pressing a kiss as his tongue swirled my clit for the first time. My hips bucked against his face, his nose buried in my curls between my legs, his eyes looking up at my flushed face.

“Oh…Copia.” I moaned, nails digging slightly into his scalp as I pulled him closer to me, grinding against his face as he sucked at my clit. He hummed in approval, fingers gently slipping inside me. One then two, his fingers curling inside me causing a whole shudder to roll through me.

The cardinal’s tongue set a rigorous pace, the tip flicking against my clit before he sucked it into his mouth while his fingers plunged in and out of me. I could feel the pleasure pooling in my belly as I rode his face, his mustache rubbing roughly against my inner thighs as I failed to not squeeze his head. His mismatched gaze turned on me, my own vision practically cloudy while I fought to keep my breath under control and my voice low. His eyes were locked on mine and I felt pinned by the pure lust in his eyes. I felt his free hand snake around my thigh, gripping almost painfully, before I felt him add a third finger. I groaned. loudly before shoving my free hand in between my teeth, muffling the noises as best as possible while my eyes rolled into the back of my head.

“C-copia, don’t stop…” I hissed, tugging on his hair roughly as my orgasm began to come on fast. “Don’t fucking stop.”

Two more thrusts and a swirl of my clit with his tongue and I bit down on my fist so hard I thought I was going to break the skin; my hips grinding roughly against Copia’s face while I rode out my orgasam. I could feel my chest pounding, as my hands slipped from his hair to caress his cheek. I couldn’t help but to smile at him warmly, as he pulled back away from me. His face was soaked with the combination of my fluids and his spit, I watched with hooded eyes as he licked at his face before sucking his fingers into his mouth. His eyes never left my face. Ever the gentleman, he helped me get both feet down before standing.

Gently, such a far cry from how fiercely he was just devouring me, he pressed his lips to mine. I could taste myself on his lips and I felt the flutter in my belly again as I shivered. As we kissed softly, I was well aware of something hot and hard pressed against my lower belly. Copia’s hands came to cup my face before slipping down to slide under my bra, fingers deftly manipulating my hard nipples. I pushed my chest into his greedy hands and I leaned forward to press my forehead against his shoulder.

My hands drifted down to his cock, straining against his trousers. I cupped my hand against him and I felt him buck into my hand, whimpering in my ear as his fingers twitched and pinched my nipples. His hand slipped from my breasts to cup my face again, kissing me more forcefully this time and I matched his movements with that of my hand on his cock. He rolled his hips and suddenly I was impatient. I wanted him, the painful clench in my belly obvious to me now. I pushed away from him, the look in his eyes confused before I pushed him to sit on the bench.

He looked up at me eagerly, his hands absentmindedly drifting to cup his cock as I pulled my robes over my head and unclasped my bra. His eyes drifted to my bare chest and I blushed slightly before I pushed at his suspenders, shoving them from his shoulders. I unbuttoned his trousers as well, pulling at them before he helped me slip them down his strong thighs. Copia’s hands came to rest on my hips as I moved to settle in his lap.

We started to kiss again, our tongues lazily curling around each other as I ground down against him. He met my hips with his own, I could feel the precum beading on his head against my belly. I couldn’t wait any longer and I sat up, gripping his thick cock as I guided him inside me. I sank all the way down on him, feeling my walls stretched by him and I threw my head back a hiss slipping from my lips.

“Carina, s-sister.” Copia muttered, one hand gripping my hip while the other settled on my lower back to help with the angle we were sitting in. “Sei cosi stretto, fanculo.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him I didn’t quite know all my Italian, so as I begun to move up and down on his cock I answered him by a searing kiss. Pressing my whole body against his, our bodies slick with sweat, I rode him like my life depended on it. I felt the cardinal begin to thrust up to match my pace as his hand gripped my waist firmly, moving my hips back and forth as we chased our orgasam in each other’s arms. His other hand slipped from the small of my back to the back of my head, tilting my neck to the side as he sunk his teeth into the sensitive flesh there. My arms snaked around his neck, fingers tangling in his messed up hair as I felt my orgasam beginning to build.

“I’m so close, Copia…” I whimpered, rolling my hip with each of his thrusts. Suddenly, he wrapped his arms around my back and flipped us so I was laying at an odd angle on the bench and he was on his knees on the floor. He took my leg and hooked it around his waist as he suddenly began thrusting into me hard enough I had to put my arms above my head to prevent my skull from slamming into the walls of the confessional.

His fingers slipped between our bodies and he quickly rubbed at my clit. I suddenly saw stars as my orgasam slammed into; I moaned loudly, my voice echoing in the antechamber due to the volume. Copia’s hand flew up to cover my mouth as he grunted, his hips snapping up to meet mine at a punishing pace. A few more erratic thrusts and he surged forward, his lips crashing into mine so forcefully I felt our teeth clink together.

I could feel him release inside of me, his whole body shuddering and taut as we both fought to catch our breaths. He rested his head on my chest, pressing lazy kisses on my bare skin and I couldn’t help but to gaze at him fondly. My fingers brushed against the top of his head, practically petting him which was even more surreal when it felt like he was practically purring. I have no idea how long we stayed like that but it wasn’t long enough. The gently gong of the bells signaled final lights out in the siblings quarters; meaning it was just after eleven in the evening.

“I’ve got to go Cardinal…” I sighed softly, leaning forward to press a kiss to the top of his head. He didn’t say anything, he rarely did after the haze of lust faded and we had to part.

Slowly but softly, we helped each other dress again. I made sure that Copia’s biretta was on correctly, his clergy paints were a whole other story. Between the steamy conditions in the room and our vigorous activities, there were plenty of places where the black paints had migrated. I smiled affectionately at him before leaning in to kiss him softly, his hands sliding up to tangle in my hair before I pulled away and pulled on my habit to cover my hair.

“Thank you, Cardinal, for hearing my confessional.”

“Of course, Sister. Please come see me anytime you need to confess your sins.”

“Yes Sir, have a wonderful evening.”

#Ghost #ghost band #the band ghost #cardinal copia #cardi c #copia #cardinal copia x reader #Copia x reader #papa emeritus 4 #ghost fanfiction #popia #my writing #fanfiction #The lust and love I have for this rat man is borderline pathologically insane

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dreamwritesimagines · 2 years

Text

Enamored [27] - Echoes

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback my loves, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please let me know what you think, thank you! ❤ And as always, thank you @theskytraveler for helping me with the chapter and the story❤

Summary: Love always leaves an echo.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, angst, mentions of death.

Word Count: 7050

Series Masterlist

The morning of your brother’s wedding was a complete chaos.

An hour before it was time to leave for the church, Cecily’s mother had all but kicked you out of the room just when you were about to tell her your opinion about the flowers that were decorating the breakfast room, saying that the conversation that was about to happen was not in any way appropriate for unmarried ladies. You were convinced that you could eavesdrop in the hallway but she seemed to be ahead of you because she had insisted and even had her maid attend you downstairs.

And you hadn’t caught any chance to ask Cecily until it was time to go to church, mainly because Elias was somehow convinced that Cecily had stopped loving him last night and was now going to leave him at the altar.

As if that could ever happen.

So after you could persuade him his fears were unfounded, you had all left for church and now you were standing by the altar waiting for Cecily, watching Elias almost buzz in his spot, shifting his weight. Normally the ceremony at the church would only be attended by close friends and family, but Elias being Elias, had opened the invitation to everyone so now it was quite crowded.

Eloise had told you there were many reasons why a lot of members of the ton wanted to attend it instead of waiting in the Stormview or outside the church. Apparently a lot of people were either hoping Cecily would make a mistake and that they wouldn’t miss it or they were still very curious about what was happening between you and Anthony, and now that you were the maid of honor and he was the best man—

Standing right there beside Elias…

Though you tried your hardest to stop yourself, it was impossible to keep your eyes from wandering off to him.

You had always thought he was the most handsome man in the room, before or after breaking your heart but today it was almost painful to look away from him. He had shaved his stubble, you noticed for the hundredth time and he looked absolutely irresistible in his formal attire, smiling slightly at something Elias was muttering at him before he shook his head fondly and Elias stole a look at the bishop before turning to you. You smiled at him and checked whether the bishop was watching before sticking your tongue at him, making his jaw drop before he narrowed his eyes at you, mouthing “scandal”.

And then, footsteps appeared by the end of the church, making all of you turn to look at the entrance.

Dear God, Cecily looked absolutely amazing.

You had to admit, while you both agreed on the style of her wedding gown, you had disagreed on the color. You had suggested white as it was very fashionable back in France, but Cecily had shut it down immediately, asking “Who on earth would wear just white on their wedding day?”

But now, looking at her smiling in her light blue wedding gown, you had to admit that maybe blue was the better choice just this once.

Elias let out a trembling breath as if he was enchanted and swallowed thickly, trying his hardest to stop the tears. Cecily smiled at him and stole a look around out of the corner of her eyes, biting at her bottom lip before Hugh subtly reached to squeeze at her hand as if trying to assure her.

Oh God, you were tearing up already.

You blinked back the tears as Hugh walked Cecily down the aisle before murmuring something into her ear and walking to his seat to sit down. You rushed to fix the train of her dress and stepped aside so that the bishop could start the ceremony.

You could hardly focus on the bishop’s speech, catching parts of it here and there but the pieces your ears picked up were a bit confusing for you, especially the carnal lusts part.

Not that you could think about it if you tried, not when Anthony’s burning gaze was on you, sending sparks through your system.

You fanned your face and looked up at the ceiling as Cecily and Elias said their vows to each other and exchanged rings before Elias raised Cecily’s hand to press a kiss on it, drawing an “aww” from the crowd. Cecily let out a teary laugh, then the bishop announced that the bride, the groom and the witnesses could go to the vestry to enter the marriage lines into the parish register book while the rest of the attendants would step outside.

And of course as the best man and the maid of honor, you and Anthony would be the witnesses.

“Are you alright?” Anthony murmured while you both followed Elias and Cecily who were giggling and whispering on their way to the vestry, and you sniffled, then nodded.

“Yeah,” you said. “I always cry at weddings.”

A fond smile curled his lips and he stepped aside when you got to the entrance.

“After you.”

You stepped into the room where Elias was signing the paper while holding Cecily’s hand with his other hand before he gave the quill to her.

“My angel,” he said, making her giggle as she signed the paper as well, and the bishop turned to you and Anthony.

“And you witness this couple’s union in matrimony and acknowledge they are to be husband and wife from now on?”

“I do,” Anthony said and you stole a look at him before turning to the bishop.

“I do.”

The bishop handed the quill to Anthony for him to take it, and Anthony hesitated as a small, painful smile pulled at his lips.

You knew.

You knew exactly what was going through his head because the same thoughts were swirling in your mind as well. Saying those words, signing your names in the register book side by side…

This was how your wedding would end as well, with you two in the vestry, signing to enter a new phase in your life, together.

He shook his head as if trying to get rid of the thoughts, signed his name and held out the quill for you. You took it from him and leaned in to sign your name, his dark eyes not wandering off of you not even once.

The bishop took the paper from you before sprinkling some sand on it, then handed it to Cecily before advising them on the responsibilities of marriage but something told you no one in the room was paying any attention to him, though Cecily looked like she was genuinely trying. Elias was way too giddy, nearly bouncing in his spot, Anthony’s whole attention was on you as if he couldn’t avert his gaze and you were lost in your thoughts, everything you had dreamt about how your and Anthony’s wedding would be like flashing through your mind.

You snapped out of your thoughts when the bishop bid you a good day and you rushed to go after Elias and Cecily out of the room, then Cecily turned around to wrap her arms around you, hugging you tight.

“I love you so much, thank you for this,” she said breathlessly before Elias pulled her by the hand with a huge grin on his face.

“They’re going to be happy together,” Anthony commented as you two walked behind them at a distance towards the doors that led outside. “It will be completely insufferable for all of us but they’re going to be happy.”

You heaved a sigh, shaking your head as a smile curled your lips.

“What?” Anthony asked and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Nothing,” you muttered. “It’s just…for a moment I forgot love does that to some people.”

Then you followed Elias and Cecily out of the church as cheers erupted through the crowd waiting outside and you tried to smile, then joined the crowd in their cheers and applause.

The wedding breakfast was a tradition, perhaps the biggest tradition of any wedding. There was almost a line of people who were waiting for their turn to speak with the newlyweds so you took it as your sign to step outside just so that you could avoid the Duke.

He hadn’t said anything to you the whole day except for a small, civil yet tense conversation.

You knew he was still hurt by your remarks and you knew bringing Elias and your mother into the argument was a low blow and yet…

You walked into the gardens with Lucie, pushing at the cake on your plate with your fork.

“I don’t think I was at fault completely,” you told Lucie, “He decided to turn Pierre down on my behalf.”

“About a couple of hours before you turned him down in person?”

“That’s not the point though!” you insisted as Iona ran to you and Lucie.

“Hello Lucie!” she chirped happily before turning to you as if she had just remembered you were there as well, “Hello cousin.”

“Hello Iona,” you said and put the plate on a tray one of the maids were carrying before grabbing a glass of lemonade. “Thank you.”

“Cecily looks so beautiful,” Iona said. “She said everything about her dress was your idea Y/N.”

“Everything except the color,” you smiled at her. “I’ve had a lot of time to plan it though.”

“What color did you want it to be?”

“White,” you said. “She insisted on light blue because it’s Elias’s favorite color which is quite romantic so I can’t really—”

“Lady Y/N?”

You, Lucie and Iona turned around at the same time and you paused for a moment before smiling at the familiar man.

“Mr. Sinclair,” you greeted him. “Hello. A lovely day, is it not?”

“Very,” he said breathlessly. “One I hope will get even better.”

“Oh?” you said. “How do you—”

You were cut off when he dropped on one knee, making the glass slip from your grasp as soon as you realized what was happening. Your eyes widened and you shook your head fervently, stepping back.

“Oh no, Mr. Sinclair I don’t think—”

“Lady Y/N,” he said as the people around the garden gasped, making you purse your lips, gritting your teeth upon noticing how everyone was watching you two.

He was going to propose in front of all these people then.

You could feel the panic taking over you as you tried your hardest not to turn around and run in the other direction.

“Ever since I saw you in that ballroom in that green gown,” he started as you covered your mouth, still shaking your head, “I’ve been enchanted by your beauty. I think The Nymph might be my best work so far, and I owe it to you.”

Jesus Christ.

Out of the corner of your eye you could see Lady Danbury pinching the bridge of her nose in a completely annoyed manner while Simon and Daphne tilted their heads, the very same mix of confusion and amusement playing on their faces.

“I think that if you would accept my hand in marriage, your beauty and gentleness will make me one of the greatest poets,” he said, making Lucie bite at her lips to control her laughter while Iona looked between you two. “Will you marry me?”

This had to be some sort of a punishment for your hubris.

You lowered your hands and stared at him before stealing a look at the crowd who was watching you very intently. You had to think of a way to let him down gently in front of all these people, as thoughtless as his actions had been.

Who on earth would ever propose in front of people? It was just inconsiderate.

You strained your mind to come up with something and your head shot up when the thought hit you;

“Mr. Sinclair, you’re a poet!”

He blinked up at you. “Uh…yes I am my lady.”

“That’s exactly why I cannot accept your kind proposal, as honored as I am,” you said hastily, making him tilt his head.

“I’m sorry?”

“Because you see, I—” you stumbled over your words. “I think I’d ask for so much attention from my husband in a very selfish way. I’d…I’d insist on having his affections and it would surely distract you from your art. And the thought of keeping your—your wonderful talent to myself, wasting it even,” You shook your head. “It’s just simply unacceptable for I would never forgive myself, neither would the next generation of literature lovers.”

Lucie looked up at the sky as if reminding herself to control her expression.

“Oh,” Mr. Sinclair said. “That’s very heartbreaking.”

“Good.”

“I’m sorry?”

“No I mean, I think an artist should experience every emotion very deeply, and surely heartbreak develops one’s art. Think of um…” You snapped your fingers, “Think of Sir Thomas Wyatt! He loved Anne Boleyn and got his heart broken, and where did it lead him?”

“Tower of London as a prisoner?”

“Well yes but it also led him to greatness, it did wonders for his art, his poetry!” you said. “So I can only imagine what this experience will do to your talent, it shall be my consolation. I cannot wait to read your next poem though it will be born of heartbreak.”

He thought for a moment, then jumped on his feet.

“You’re right, my lady,” he said. “You’re absolutely right. A poet, above all, should be free, not confined by anything.”

You nodded your head. “I agree completely.”

“He must look for heartbreak, search it endlessly.”

You pulled back, pulling your brows together. “Well I wouldn’t say—”

“I shall never enter matrimony,” he said, making your jaw drop. “I shall never marry and focus my feelings on my art rather than a wife.”

“Mr. Sinclair that wasn’t what I—”

“Thank you my lady for opening my eyes,” he said and kissed your hand, “I shall go and turn my eternal solitude into poetry, excuse me.”

He walked past you, making whispers and murmurs erupt through the crowd and you let out a breath.

“Aw I think you broke his heart,” Iona said and you ran a hand over your face.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered through your teeth as you fidgeted under everyone’s gaze before turning to Lucie and Iona.

“I can’t stay here, come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“To the drawing room at our wing,” you said as you started walking, “I need to be away from people. I fear I will cause a scene otherwise.”

Hiding in the drawing room seemed to have worked for a while. Considering it was in the wing that was for family only, no other member of the ton could go inside, and only Kenneth, Hugh, Benedict and Eloise were there when you got there.

So when Cecily, Elias and Anthony came by the drawing room, no doubt to avoid the crowd, they all met absolute chaos that was currently happening in the room. You were pacing while Lucie was fanning you with a wedding invite, Kenneth and Hugh were sitting across from each other, watching you, Eloise was grinning and Benedict looked like he was trying his hardest to control his expression.

“It’s not that bad.”

“It is that bad Eloise!”

“He will move on.”

“Eh, he might not.”

“Kenneth!”

“What? I don’t know why you’re all overreacting, there are worse things in the world than a heartbroken poet.”

“See, this is how I know you haven’t read any of his poems, because he was already insufferable but now…”

“What’s going on?” Elias asked and you whirled around on your heels, letting out a whine.

“My hubris!”

“Ah, this can only be about Mr. Sinclair,” Elias said as Cecily stepped into the room, a worried look crossing her soft gaze.

“Did Mr. Sinclair write you another bad poem?”

“No but this is God punishing me,” you whined to Cecily, your brows furrowed. “And I can’t even begin to imagine why!”

Iona rushed into the room with a glass of water. “Y/N I brought you water, here!”

“You could’ve asked a maid, Iona,” Kenneth said and she shook her head.

“Oh they’re very busy already, I didn’t wish to disturb them.”

Lucie turned to smile at her and you took the glass from her while Cecily made her way to you.

“Thank you,” you said as you took a huge sip before putting the glass on the table and Eloise stifled a laugh.

“I repeat, it’s not that bad. If anything, I think we will be suffering more than he does.”

“What is going on?” Anthony asked, his eyes fixed on you and you heaved a dramatic sigh.

“Is this hell?” you asked to no one in particular. “Am I in hell?”

Elias raised his brows and looked from Lucie who was still fanning you to make you feel better to Iona who pushed the water glass into your hand again while Cecily rubbed at your arms as if trying to console you.

“I don’t think hell looks like this, Y/N.”

“Could’ve fooled me, the whole ton is here,” you shot back, making Benedict bite down a chuckle and Elias threw his hands up.

“Is anyone going to tell me what—”

“He proposed!” You stomped on your foot and Cecily pulled back.

“Mr Sinclair?” she asked, trying to control her expression and repressed a laugh. “Mr. Sinclair proposed?”

“Yes and he did it in front of people, Cece!” you said petulantly and Anthony blinked a couple of times.

“You didn’t say yes, did you?”

You gawked at him for a couple of seconds and took a deep breath.

“No I did actually,” you deadpanned. “We shall be marrying at the earliest convenience, that’s why I’m hiding in the drawing room during my brother’s wedding breakfast!”

Cecily let out a laugh, exchanging glances with Eloise before turning to you. “Y/N.”

“This is a disaster.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“No Cece, it really was a disaster.”

“What did you say exactly?”

“She said she could not marry him on the grounds that she could not be selfish and keep his virtuosity to herself,” Iona said in a helpful manner and Elias made a face.

“Dear God, does this mean he will write more poems? Y/N you should’ve just said yes.”

“Elias!”

“Become the ton’s sacrifice—”

“Do you want to leave Cece a widow this early on? Because I can make that happen.”

“I’m jesting,” he said with a huge grin, holding up his hands. “No really, what did you tell him?”

“Something that will ruin his life,” you said and Anthony rolled his eyes.

“He’ll live, you have no reason to feel bad.”

“No you don’t understand, I actually ruined his life I think. He said he would always chase heartbreak and never marry.”

“Just because you said no?” Elias asked and you shook your head.

“I was trying to let him down in a soft way and I may have drawn some similarities between him and Sir Thomas Wyatt and how his love led him to—”

“Tower of London.” Elias and Anthony said at the same time and you let out a breath.

“Why does everyone focus on that part?” you exclaimed. “It did wonders for his art, alright? Like—like, Benedict is already a great artist, can you imagine what would happen if he was imprisoned in Tower of London?”

“Yeah I’d be dead,” Benedict stated and Anthony shrugged.

“Eh, you’d live.”

Benedict frowned. “What?”

“You’re resilient.”

“Anthony—”

“I mean none of us would hear the end of it but you’d be fine.”

Kenneth pressed his hand over his mouth, trying to control his laughter at the look of complete betrayal on Benedict’s face and Hugh kicked at his boot, also grinning.

“I cannot believe the words leaving my mouth right now but,” you started pacing in the room again, pressing your palms over your eyes. “Can men please stop proposing to me until I figure out what I want?”

Cecily shot Anthony a look who shifted in his spot but you paid no mind to it.

“Elias?” you said and he turned to you.

“Hm?”

“Will you please go over there and fix this?”

“Sorry, me?”

“Well I can’t do it!” you said. “I ruined his life already, I don’t want to be punished for my hubris any longer!”

Elias threw his head back.

“Alright, I think I can address the situation at hand because everyone in this room already knows what I’m talking about,” he said and motioned between you and Anthony. “You two need to stop making my whole wedding about you.”

Cecily gave him a look. “Elias...”

“I have been dealing with you when I should be only busy with the love of my life –Cece I love you so much, thank you for marrying me—”

“Aw, I love you too!”

“Christ I hate this,” Hugh deadpanned, making Benedict chuckle.

“Get used to it.”

“But somebody apparently needs to say this,” Elias continued. “For five weeks you two have done nothing but turning this whole situation into your…whatever it is you two have, and I’m not dealing with this on my wedding day. As if it’s not enough that all of you are still here—”

“Elias!”

“How long can a breakfast last, I guess we’re finding out today.” Elias grumbled and Hugh raised his brows.

“I’m staying here until the evening, Westcliff. I’ll leave with the last carriage, I hope you know that.”

“Hold on, why do you want us to leave?”

“I’m not answering that question Y/N.”

“Can I just point out that I’m trying to make amends for the last five weeks?” Anthony added, making him snap his fingers.

“Alright, great. You can go and talk to Sinclair then.”

Anthony stared at him. “Say what?”

“Yeah. Go ahead, you’re the best man. You console the guy who got his heart broken by my sister.”

“I don’t care who does it but someone in this room needs to talk to him!” you exclaimed. “I will not be cursed my whole life because of my hubris or because I ruined his life so go there and fix this!”

“Yeah Anthony, go there and fix this.”

Anthony frowned at Elias as if he couldn’t believe his suggestion. “You want me to go and talk to the guy who proposed to her and got rejected?”

“Yes.”

“You see nothing wrong with this situation? Nothing at all?”

“No, nothing at all.” Elias said. “Consider this as payback for what you did on my engagement announcement.”

“Eli for God’s sake, how much longer are you planning on making me suffer for that?”

“To repeat,” Elias said, counting with his fingers, “You stabbed me in the back, you ruined my engagement announcement, you—”

“I remember all that, you don’t have to list it.”

Benedict chuckled and stood up.

“Come on Anthony, I’ll help you.”

Eloise looked between them and jumped on her feet.

“Oh I’m coming with, there’s no way I’d ever miss this,” she said and Benedict pulled Anthony out of the room with Eloise following them. Elias shook his head slightly and heaved a sigh.

“Cece, the love of my life—”

“I’m still in the room Westcliff, don’t do this in front of me.” Hugh deadpanned and Kenneth shot him a look, kicking at his boot again.

“They’re in love.”

“We are!” Elias said, his face lighting up at the mention, “And you my dear brother-in-law, are family now—”

“Jesus Christ I can’t. Cece please make him stop.”

“Oh you mean make my husband, whom I love very much, stop telling you the truth?” Cecily grinned at him innocently. “I shall do no such thing.”

“Great.”

“You’ll warm up to me eventually,” Elias smiled at him, his expression full of happiness as he turned to Cecily. “We should go too my angel.”

Cecily nodded her head before she hugged you and pressed a kiss on your cheek.

“I will find you later on, alright?” she asked. “And don’t worry, I am sure Mr. Sinclair will eventually find love, you know how dramatic poets get.”

You nodded and watched them leave, and Iona turned to you.

“Y/N if you’re feeling better, do you mind if I steal Lucie? I wish to show her the winter garden, she hasn’t seen it yet.”

You rubbed at your eyes and nodded again. “Oh of course.”

“Are you sure my lady? I can stay.”

“No no,” you said fervently. “Winter garden is gorgeous Lucie, you must see it surely. Don’t worry about me.”

Iona giggled and pulled Lucie by her hand so that they could both walk out of the room and you went to sit down on the sofa before you slipped a little, slouching there before you buried your face into your hands.

“Hugh?”

“Hm?”

You dropped your hands to your lap. “Now to think of it, maybe you and I should have got married.”

“Well this is awkward,” Kenneth commented, “Do you two need me to leave the room?”

“What? No!” you said. “I mean it would be…it would be easier for you two! I promise I wouldn’t mind you maintaining a relationship and being lovers, one of my mother’s friends had an arrangement like that back in France—”

“Y/N.”

“And I have a huge dowry too and apparently no one will be using it! You know, if that’s something you’re interested in.”

“And what’s in it for you?”

“Men will stop proposing to me,” you stated and let out a whine. “Am I doomed, do you think?”

Hugh rolled his eyes and stood up, pulling Kenneth with him.

“You’re not doomed,” he told you. “And Mr. Sinclair is an idiot, but that has nothing to do with you.”

“I think I am being punished for my hubris.”

“And I think your future husband will not have a boring day with you,” Kenneth commented and winked at you. “Not even once. Bridgerton is lucky, I suppose.”

You frowned. “Oh Anthony and I are never going to get married.”

Kenneth raised his brows and exchanged glances with Hugh who was smiling knowingly.

“I’ll just tell the people they’re not allowed in this hallway, maids included,” Kenneth said. “You look like you need your solitude for a while.”

With that, they both walked out of the drawing room and you let out a whine, slipping a little on the sofa.

“Yeah,” you muttered. “I think I do.”

The problem was, you had never been good with solitude. After spending an hour in the drawing room, you had made your way to the music room just down the hallway, but even that wasn’t enough to make you distracted.

You dragged your fingertips over the keys of the piano, absentmindedly pressing some of them to an old tune you had learned back in Paris but as soon as you noticed someone by the doorway your head shot up and you pulled your hand back.

“Oh dear God no,” you told Anthony as you looked around before pushing your seat back to stand up. “No, Anthony I cannot take another proposal today, I have a limit for those as it seems so no thank you, not today.”

Anthony pushed himself off the doorframe and held up a plate you had just now noticed was in his hand.

“What’s that?”

“Strawberry cake,” he said. “It’s your favorite, and anger makes you hungry so I figured you’d want it.”

You eyed the plate in his hand as you lingered in your spot.

“I won’t propose or force you to talk about anything you don’t wish to talk about,” he added. “Trust me, I’m under very strict orders.”

“Whose orders?”

“A friend,” he said and you bit inside your cheek before you stepped closer to him to take the plate from him, then went to sit down on the sofa. Anthony motioned at the armchair.

“May I?”

You nodded as you dug your fork into the cake before putting it into your mouth, the sweet taste coating your mouth before you swallowed it and looked up at him.

“…Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said and you heaved a deep sigh.

“So how did it go then?”

“With Sinclair?” he asked and leaned back, running a hand over his eyes. “He’s an idiot, so it went as expected.”

“Is his heart broken terribly?”

Anthony raised his brows. “Do you want the truth?”

“Yes.”

“I honestly don’t care whose heart gets broken as long as it’s not yours,” he said, making your stomach do a happy flip and you scolded yourself in your head. “That being said, he will be fine. I’m not going to lie though, it was probably the most awkward conversation of my life.”

You scoffed a laugh and took your fork into your mouth again.

“Are you alright?”

You raised your head to look at him before you swallowed your bite and put the plate on the small coffee table, then rubbed at your eye with the back of your hand.

“It’s just been a long day,” you murmured. “I’m tired a little, I think. I haven’t been sleeping well, which—” you rubbed at your eyes, “I guess receiving three disastrous proposals within 48 hours does that.”

He took a deep breath and nodded. “I see.”

“Wait, I’m being unfair,” you corrected yourself. “There was nothing wrong with Pierre’s proposal. Well, other than me I suppose.”

“Y/N, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Oh I’d disagree, there are a lot of things wrong with me,” you pointed out. “It’s very obvious at this point. I cannot be with you, but apparently I cannot be with anyone but you.” A bitter laugh escaped from your lips as you leaned your head back, fixing your eyes on the ceiling.

“Dear God, what a fate…” you murmured and he pressed his lips together as if he was trying his hardest to keep the words to himself, to control himself despite what he seemed to want.

A silence fell upon the room and he cleared his throat.

“Have you had any luck with the locked rooms yet?”

You turned your head, your brows pulling into a frown. “How did you know?”

“Elias mentioned it,” he said. “And I know you, you would never let that go without seeing what’s inside.”

You tried not to smile. “Well yes but I couldn’t find them.”

Anthony thought for a second and checked his pocket watch.

“We still have hours until it’s time to go, want me to show you?”

You shot him a look. “We can’t be seen without a chaperone.”

“I know this house like the back of my hand Y/N, I basically grew up here,” he reminded you and stood up to hold out his hand. “I know what hallway to use in order to avoid people, come on.”

You eyed him before placing your hand in his, that same warmth spreading from your palm into your whole body, sparks rushing through your system but you slowly pulled your hand back when you stood up. He curled his fingers as if he was trying to make the feeling last, then nodded at the door.

“Come with me.”

Anthony was right, he knew exactly where the rooms were and how to get to them. He led you to a part of the wing you hadn’t been to before, and just as he said, you hadn’t bumped into anyone at all even if the house was swarming with people. When he stopped you in front of a door, you tried to open it but it didn’t even budge.

“How long has this been locked?”

“Ever since I’ve known this part of the house,” Anthony said. “Elias and I used to spend hours trying to open it, it wouldn’t work.”

You hummed and got down on a knee to take a look at the lock, then pulled your gold hair pin out of your hair and stuck it into the keyhole.

“You think you can open it?”

“I know I can,” you replied and Anthony leaned back to the wall.

“Did your brother teach you that?”

“I taught him,” you muttered. “Back in France, when he visited me and mother. Why? Did he use to do this as well?”

“Back at Eton,” he said. “Once we sneaked into the teacher’s room so that he could unlock the teacher’s drawer and steal the exam questions.”

You raised your brows, still fiddling with the lock.

“Did it work?”

“Mm hm. How do you know how to do it?”

“Um…” you bit down on your lip, still twisting the pin in the keyhole. “Our cook used to lock the sugar, so I learned it from a maid’s son.”

He gawked at you. “You learned how to unlock doors so that you could get sugar?”

“Yeah, I’d eat it out of the jar.”

“You’d eat sugar?” he asked “Pure sugar?”

“Yeah.”

“Like a horse?”

You stopped fiddling with the lock so that you could glare at him. “Excuse me?”

“No I didn’t mean—” he stammered and shook his head. “That’s uh… that’s interesting. Did your cook not notice it?”

“She did, then she started putting the jars to higher shelves. That’s why I’m really good at climbing things as well.”

Anthony blinked a couple of times. “You sound like such a nightmare child.”

“Those are some big accusations coming from the person who got his head stuck in the staircase railing when he was a kid,” you deadpanned and he made a face.

“Who told you about that?”

“Aunt Lavinia,” you said. “I also know about that time you ran headfirst into a glass door while trying to get the last cookie from Elias.”

“In my defense, Elias shoved like ten of those into his mouth before I had a chance to even bite one.”

“Mm hm,” you said, trying your hardest not to smile. “And when your mother caught you throwing knives at each other?”

“We were playing Robin Hood and didn’t have arrows,” he defended himself. “Besides, we weren’t throwing knives at each other, we were throwing it at the apple on each other’s head.”

“William Tell.”

“Hm?”

“William Tell did that, not Robin Hood,” you said and looked up at him with a small grin. “And it wasn’t an arrow, it was a bolt. You almost killed my brother and you don’t even remember the hero of the tale?”

“Your brother almost killed me back, his aim was worse than mine.”

“I feel like your future children will need constant supervision,” The words left your mouth before you even noticed them and that made him pause, but before you or he could say anything, you twisted the pin and the door unlocked, making you smile.

“Voilà!” you said and stood up, then pushed the door open but as soon as you saw what was in it, you froze in your spot.

The first thing that caught your attention was the painting on the wall, the painting of your mother and the duke together. You covered your mouth and stepped into the room as Anthony closed the door behind you, letting out a breath.

“Is that your mother?”

You nodded slowly and Anthony looked from the portrait to you, then to the portrait again.

“I know,” you said before he could say anything. “Everyone says we look the same.”

“Not the same.”

You dragged your gaze from the portrait. “What?”

“You look very similar but not the same,” Anthony said, tilting his head. “Your smile is different, for one.”

“My smile is different than hers?” You felt the need to ask. “How?”

“Your whole face lights up,” he said. “It’s apparent even in your eyes. It’s just different.”

You swallowed thickly before forcing yourself to look around the room. The way it was designed was almost too familiar, the huge bed, the covers, the dressing screen—

Your mother’s favorite colors.

This had to be your mother’s separate chambers.

“Why didn’t he get rid of it?” you heard yourself ask. “All of it?”

Anthony scoffed. “I told you before,” he said. “I don’t think you know their story completely.”

You opened your mouth to answer but you heard the footsteps coming closer and your eyes widened when you heard Cecily and Elias’s voices, then the door handle moved. Anthony looked around and grabbed you by the arm to pull you behind the dressing screen with him at the same time the door opened.

“Huh, this is interesting,” Elias’s voice carried into the room and you held your breath. Standing this close to Anthony was bringing back the memories, and that fire you had been trying so hard to soothe roared back to life as his pleasant scent filled your nostrils, making you gulp down.

He seemed as frozen as you were. His dark gaze was on you, almost pinning you to your spot and you had to force yourself to avert your gaze from him so that you could pay attention to Cecily and Elias.

“I thought you said it was locked.”

“It is always locked, my angel. The maids must have forgotten to lock it back after cleaning it.”

“But then how were we going to—”

“Y/N taught me how, and I practiced a lot on this door when I was younger.” Elias said and there was the sound of shuffling before Cecily let out a breath.

“Is that your mother?”

“Yes. I wanted to show you—” Elias paused. “I used to sneak in here when I missed my mother. It’s my favorite room in the house.”

A silence fell upon them and you looked through the cracks between the dressing screen, your heart still beating in your ears. Cecily stood on her tiptoes to brush her lips against Elias’s before turning to look at the painting.

“Dear God, she was very beautiful.”

“She was.”

“And Y/N looks exactly like her.”

“She does,” Elias muttered, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind her, resting his chin on her shoulder and you felt yourself smile slightly.

“But she’s not the only one, you and your mother have the same eyes that I love,” Cecily said softly, holding his hand that was resting over her bodice before she raised his hand to kiss his palm and that—

That was when it hit you.

If you weren’t going to have something like this, a love like this—

You weren’t going to have it at all.

You were right before, when you told Anthony you couldn’t be with him but you couldn’t be with anyone else either. Perhaps you weren’t meant to be with the one you loved, but seeing Elias and Cecily like this, you knew that you could never be satisfied with anything less than absolute and utter love in marriage.

And if you couldn’t have it, then fine.

It was going to be painful, but it couldn’t be more painful than missing having a love marriage like this, a love that you knew, that you once had with Anthony.

Anthony shifted by you, snapping you out of your thoughts and Cecily heaved a sigh.

“I still can’t believe we’re actually married.”

“Me neither,” Elias said. “When will everyone leave though, honestly?”

“Elias!”

“What? I wish to show my wife how much I love her.”

“I think you already did that.”

Anthony grimaced before shaking his head, stealing a look at you.

“Mmm when?” Elias’s voice was way too playful. “Was it when—”

You didn’t get to hear the rest of his sentence when Anthony’s hands covered your ears, making you furrow your brows and look up at him, your heart climbing up to your throat. You had no idea what Elias and Cecily were talking about but it wasn’t like you could move without any danger of hitting the dressing screen accidentally so you nibbled on your lip while Anthony kept his palms pressed on your ears, preventing you from hearing anything.

Elias pulled Cecily who was giggling out of the room and Anthony lowered his hands, but neither of you made any move since you could still hear their voices.

“Why did you—what were they talking about?” you whispered in curiosity and Anthony licked his lips.

“Uh…marital affairs.”

You nodded solemnly. “Carnal lusts and appetites.”

He blinked a couple of times. “Come again?”

“That’s what the bishop said. Carnal lusts and appetites.”

“Jesus…”

“What did he mean by that?”

Anthony looked almost tormented at this point before he shrugged his shoulders, a look of feigned innocence appearing on his face.

“I don’t know, I’ve never been married.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and turned your head when you could no longer hear their voices. Anthony stepped aside so that you could walk out from behind the dressing screen and you looked up at the painting again, your thoughts like a storm in your head.

“Y/N?”

You bit at your fingernail, keeping your gaze on the painting.

“The painting, her room, the statue in the maze…” you murmured, making Anthony’s head shoot up as if he was now realizing the statue looking like your mother.

“Cassandra of Troy.”

“Exactly,” you said. “And he has no right to keep these, any of this. He exiled her and moved on with his life.”

Anthony scoffed a bitter laugh and shook his head, then motioned around you.

“He turned Stormview into a mausoleum for your mother even before she was gone,” he told you. “Nothing here says he moved on.”

“Is that compassion I hear?”

“I just understand him,” he said with a painful smile. “He didn’t move on, he couldn’t. The women in your family have a way of ensuring that.”

Your stomach did a flip as you averted your eyes from his to gaze up at the painting and guilt crashed down on you as soon as the realization did, making you close your eyes tight before you heaved a deep sigh.

“Is everything alright?” he asked and you opened your eyes, shaking your head.

“No,” you rasped out. “Anthony, I think I’ve made a mistake.”

Chapter 28

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #Bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #regency fic

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circularsidewalks · 10 months

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"Well, today was interesting to say the least. Highs and lows. Travis was obscenely mean to me, but then he was extremely sweet and apologetic.It`s easy to forgive him when I remember who he is, who I am, and who we all really are, which is divine offspring, children of God." x

I think about this entry from Jodi a lot. She's spoken a few times about the complex nature of her feelings for Travis. Years after his passing she says she still loves him, and yet in a jailhouse interview, she says she hated looking back at Travis's family in court, because their faces remind her of the man who abused her. In the same interview she says she never once felt angry at Travis. She goes on to say that her and Travis knew the worst of each other, and she still wanted the best for him regardless. This reminds me of the letter Travis (allegedly) wrote to her after she walked in on his... computer habit. He says she's the only person in the world who could possibly understand and sympathize. I sometimes wonder if it was her love for Travis that made her that way, or her faith, or just her personality. After being incarcerated, Jodi started donating to the church, to domestic abuse charities. She eventually opened up a website to donate a large portion of the earnings to similar (rotating) charities. She often helps other incarcerated women with their court proceedings (she becomes shy after mentioning this in her interview and wishes not to elaborate).

The more I think about it the more saddened I am. It truly is a shame that this selfless, truly gentle and kind woman is going to be behind bars the rest of her life. At least to Jodi, she tries to see the positive, and do the best she can from where she is, whether it's helping other incarcerated women or working with her legal team to open a shop for charity. I think about once again a jailhouse interview from while she was still on trial, where she said if she had a chance at freedom she would use it very responsibly. And I do wish her case didn't become so sensational and warped in the eyes of the public that her chance at freedom has been practically squandered.

This post was initially about her forgiveness of Travis so I'd like to end it with a quote from the interview I mentioned a few times above.

"Well, that wasn't the kind of person that he was trying to be. And Travis had many wonderful qualities. Many redeemable qualities. And those are the qualities that I focus on. Those are the qualities that I liked and the qualities about him that I loved. And, I mean there's this quote that says we love those that know the worst of us and don't turn their faces away. And I don't know who said it. But I think of my family when I think of that. But also because I know the worst of Travis but I still wanted him to be happy, and I still wanted the best for him..."

#jodi arias

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taoofshigeru · 1 month

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Side-note on Octopath Traveler H'aanit

(since I had an ask that I chose to make about her today)

I always felt like the title of her story boss lead-in track, "For Master" (師匠のために), was a bit of an outlier relative to the others and doesn't mesh quite as well with her (very well-done!) story arc.

Most other Octopath "keywords" that come in via the soundtrack are more nuanced in terms of what the character's goal is and what they ultimately achieve as a result of their quest. Olberic's sought-after "Redemption" changes shape from simply tracking down and beating Erhardt to finding the man truly responsible for Hornberg's demise, but in the process he redeems Erhardt as well and finds real redemption in fighting for a cause and freeing the town that Werner holds dominion over. Tressa's "Treasure" is something concrete she sets out to find in chapter 3, and achieves, but Noa Wyndham's hand in marriage the experiences on her journey and the diary she kept of them turns out to be the real treasure.

These "For" keywords are almost always chosen with a strong double entendre to coincide with the twists in a character's story arc. Like with Therion, whose journey for "Freedom" from the bangle turns into something that sets him free from Darius and his past more generally, allowing him to look for the future. There's a lot of the ethos of squeezing the character's journey down to a word that changes meaning with the shift in context between chapter 1 and chapter 4, which I love as a writer. Pick a single word which the story can grow around, such that its original meaning and the new contextual meaning shine together like interwoven rainbows from a prism in a sunbeam.

On one level, H'aanit is on a quest to find her master Z'aanta, then rescue him from his petrification curse, but her journey takes on more significance once she fights the dragon. She's becoming a legend, a master hunter in her own right, ultimately slaying the Redeye where Z'aanta failed, and ending up with tall tales to tell him. Her journey always felt to me like it was about becoming a master, and finding it in herself to become one, rather than just looking for a specific person. However, since she never finds an apprentice, the choice of "師匠", a master in the sense of an instructor or a teacher, feels slightly misplaced. Maybe if she had a kid aiming to learn from her in her chapter one, then she was finally able to go home and give those lessons at the end of her story, it would have landed better.

Alternatively, something like "For Quarry" might have been nicer. Since her quest starts out as a hunt for Z'aanta, then becomes a quest to slay the Redeye. It has the bonus of carrying extra nuance of putting Graham out of his misery once endgame lore drops. (Since that was something she did "for" him, albeit unknowingly.)

Other "For _" comments: Primrose, who sets out for "Revenge" and does indeed achieve total and fairly satisfying revenge, is admittedly a bit of a counterexample. Albiet a slightly more bitter pill because of all that Simeon bullshit.

Ophilia, meanwhile, is like a weird case where the original text is weak but the localized version is strong enough to hold up. Her pre-boss motif is "For Light" (試練のために). The original text could more directly be translated as "For the Ritual" or "For the Kindling", but Ophilia's involvement with the church is as much about her family, her adoptive father Josef and sister Lianna, than it is a strong attachment to the dogma per se. It's a major character focus that her sister was supposed to be the flamebearer but Ophilia took over so she could be with their father. And in the finale of the Ophilia arc, the focus is on saving her sister, bringing her back to the light, much more so than on the trial of the flamebearer per se. In that way, "For Light" is great because it can be about the kindling, but it's also very much about bringing Lianna back into the light.

#h'aanit #octopath traveler #olberic eisenberg #tressa colzione #therion #primrose azelhart #ophilia clement #over-analyzing octopath arc words hours

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neontokyoo · 1 year

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Let's talk about marriage

"Let's talk about murder. Did I say murder? I meant to say marriage. But, you know, they're quite similar procedures when you think about it. The participants tend to know each other, it's over when one of them's dead. In fairness, though, murder is much quicker."

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x fem!reader

Prompts: 93

Summary: You start to freak out moments before your wedding.

Genre: Fluff

Warning(s): none

As the wedding day approaches, you can feel your nerves getting worse. You are about to marry the brilliant detective Sherlock Holmes, and while you love him more than anything in the world, the thought of standing in front of so many people and making such a huge commitment is almost too much to bear.

You've been up all night, trying to calm yourself down and get some sleep, but it's no use. You're too wound up, too anxious, and too terrified of what's to come.

As you sit in the bridal room, surrounded by your closest friends and family, you feel a wave of panic wash over you. Ms. Hudson and Mary Watson are there with you, trying to help you calm down. They're both incredibly supportive, but you can tell they're worried about you.

Ms. Hudson brings you a cup of tea, while Mary rubs your back and talks to you in a soothing voice.

"It's okay, love," she says. "You're going to be amazing. You and Sherlock are meant to be together. Just take some deep breaths and relax."

You try to do as she says, but it's hard. Your heart is racing, your palms are sweaty, and you feel like you're about to pass out. You can't believe you're having a panic attack on your wedding day, but you can't seem to stop it.

Ms. Hudson notices your distress and puts a hand on your shoulder.

"Let's focus on something else, shall we? How about we get you dressed and ready to walk down the aisle? Mycroft will be here soon to walk you down."

You nod, grateful for the distraction. As you start getting ready, you feel the panic start to subside. Putting on your dress and veil, you feel like you're putting on armour, ready to face whatever comes your way.

Ms. Hudson and Mary help you with your makeup and hair, making you look beautiful and radiant. They're both so skilled at what they do, and you feel lucky to have them on your side.

As you're finishing up, Mycroft Holmes arrives. He's dressed in a sleek suit, looking every bit the distinguished older brother of Sherlock. He greets you with a smile and a nod, and you feel a sense of calm wash over you.

"Shall we?" he says, holding out his arm for you.

You take a deep breath and nod. It's time to face the music.

As you walk down the aisle, you feel a sense of awe wash over you. The church is filled with people, all here to celebrate your love for Sherlock. You can feel their eyes on you, but you try to focus on the man waiting for you at the end of the aisle.

Sherlock looks handsome and dashing in his suit, and as he sees you approach, his face lights up with a smile. You feel your heart skip a beat, and you know that this is where you belong.

As you reach the end of the aisle, Mycroft hands you over to Sherlock. You take his hand, and together you turn to face the crowd.

"You look quite lovely today, my dear," Sherlock says, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I could say the same about you," you reply, smiling up at him.

You turn to face the celebrant, who begins the ceremony.

The celebrant speaks of love, of commitment, of the beauty of finding someone who completes you. You listen to her words, feeling their truth resonate deep within you. You think of all the times Sherlock has been there for you, of all the moments you've shared together, of all the love you've given and received.

When it's time for your vows, you take a deep breath and look into Sherlock's eyes. You know that these words will bind you together forever, and you want to make them count.

You begin, your voice strong and clear. "Sherlock, I promise to love you with every fiber of my being, to cherish you, to support you, and to be your partner in all things. I vow to be there for you through thick and thin, in sickness and in health, for as long as we both shall live."

Sherlock takes his turn, his voice deep and steady. "My dearest love, I vow to love you more deeply every day, to support you, to cherish you, and to make you laugh. I promise to be there for you in all things, through all of life's ups and downs. I vow to love you for all eternity."

The celebrant asks for the rings, and you exchange them, feeling their weight on your fingers. They're a symbol of your love, a reminder that you're bound together for all time.

When the celebrant pronounces you husband and wife, you feel a sense of joy and relief wash over you. You turn to face the crowd, your hearts full of love and gratitude.

After the ceremony, the wedding party and guests move to the reception hall, which is elegantly decorated with strings of twinkling lights, soft candlelight, and beautiful floral arrangements in shades of purple and white. As you and Sherlock enter the room, the crowd erupts into applause, and you can't help but feel a sense of pride and happiness.

The band strikes up a lively tune, and you and Sherlock take to the dance floor for your first dance as a married couple. As you sway to the music, you feel like you're in a dream, surrounded by the people you love most in the world.

As the night wears on, the guests enjoy a sumptuous feast of fine food and wine, served by attentive waiters and waitresses. There's a sense of warmth and joy in the air, and you can see that everyone is having a wonderful time.

Ms. Hudson and Mary Watson come up to you, smiling and congratulating you on your marriage. They both look stunning in their dresses, and you're grateful to have them by your side on this special day.

The speeches begin, with Sherlock's brother Mycroft delivering a heartfelt tribute to the newlyweds.

"Ladies and gentlemen, friends and family, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Sherlock and y/n," he began. "I am Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock's older brother and best man, and it is my honour to offer a few words on this special occasion."

Mycroft paused as he looked at his brother. "As a young boy, Sherlock was always a bit of an oddity. He didn't quite fit in with the other children, preferring to spend his time lost in thought or solving puzzles. He was always a bit of a loner, but he never seemed to mind. He was content with his own company, and he was always so fiercely independent. But then y/n came along, and everything changed. Suddenly, there was someone who could match wits with him, someone who could keep up with his quick mind and sharp tongue. She challenged him in ways that no one else ever had, and he fell in love with her for it."

He turned to look at you with a small smile on his face. "Y/n, I have to say that I wasn't quite sure what to make of you at first. Sherlock has always been so difficult to read, and I wasn't sure if you were the right person for him. But as I got to know you better, I realized that you were exactly what he needed. You're strong, intelligent, and fiercely independent in your own right. You're the perfect match for him, and I couldn't be happier that you're now part of our family."

Now he was looking at the both of you. "Sherlock, my dear brother, I have to say that I'm proud of you. You've always been so difficult to read, so aloof and distant, but seeing you with y/n has been a revelation. I've seen a side of you that I never knew existed, a tender and caring side that's reserved just for her. You've grown so much as a person since she came into your life, and I know that you will continue to grow together as a couple."

Mycroft picked up his wine glass, holding it in the air. "So I raise my glass to the happy couple, to Sherlock and y/n, and wish them a lifetime of happiness and adventure together. May your lives be filled with love, laughter, and the occasional mystery to solve. Cheers!"

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as Mycroft concludes his speech, and the guests raise their glasses in a toast to the happy couple.

As the night wears on and the reception begins to wind down, you feel a sense of contentment wash over you. It's been a long day, but everything has gone off without a hitch, and you're grateful for the love and support of everyone around you.

"Thank you for making me the happiest man in the world," Sherlock says, his voice soft and tender.

"You make me happy too," you reply, your heart swelling with love for this amazing man.

As you're saying your goodbyes to the last of the guests, Lestrade bursts into the room, looking panicked.

"Sherlock, there's been a murder. We need your help," he says urgently.

You feel a jolt of anxiety run through you at the mention of another case, but you know that this is just part of the job. Sherlock looks at you, concern etched on his face.

"I'm sorry, my dear. Duty calls," he says, squeezing your hand.

"I know," you say, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice. "Just be careful, okay?"

Sherlock gives you a small smile and a nod, then turns to Lestrade. "Lead the way."

As they rush out of the room, you're left standing there, feeling a mixture of emotions. On one hand, you're proud of Sherlock and all that he does to help people. On the other hand, you can't help but feel a twinge of sadness that your wedding night has been interrupted by another case.

But you know that this is just the beginning of your life together and that there will be many more cases to come. And as you head home, surrounded by your loved ones, you feel a sense of gratitude and hope for the future.

#wedding #bride #groom #sherlock holmes #sherlock imagine #sherlock fandom #sherlock x y/n #mycroft holmes #moriarty anime #yuukoku no moriarty #moriarty the patriot #moriarty the patriot x reader #yuukuko no moriarty #mtp x reader #mtp #yuumori #ynm sherlock #ynm

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