#Even though I 'ruined' HER ceremony

[thatuselesshuman]

Ik it's a well known fact that high school punishments are highly skewed but I'd like to provide a specific example that happened to me back in the ye olden days of high school

So one day I was being inducted into a club that shall not be named which believed in high achievement, aka high grades, service hours, etc. The ceremony was nothing special, basically just walking across the stage and a couple people giving a speech, so my friend gave me some money to fall and make it a bit entertaining. I accepted, falling as I walked onto the stage.

Now let me put the reactions into perspective, since it's important to the story. When I fell, a couple people gasped and my friends laughed, sure, but otherwise the ceremony went on as usual after that. The ceremony wasn't ruined or even really interrupted.

Now, considering that information, what do you think the punishment was when the principal found out? Maybe a stern talking to? Maybe detention? Or, let's go a little harsher, maybe probation in the club?

What if I told you that not only was I suspended for 3 days, I was also removed from the club along with the Journalism club, which I was also apart of? What if I told you I was then barred from joining either of those clubs again the next year?

Now, you may be thinking that my school was just harsh. Maybe this type of response was normal for all mistakes. What if I told you that the year previously I had reported someone for bullying me (with video evidence) and all they got was a day of detention, without even being removed from the football team or any extracurricular?

Personally, I'd think that'd sound like a load of (true) BULLSHIT

Their reasoning was that the ceremony had always been a solemn ceremony, one that was meant to show off the future leaders. They said my joke had interrupted the intended purpose.

Now if they had told me that previously, their reaction, though still an overreaction, would have made more sense. BUT THEY DIDN'T. THEY BARELY TOLD ME WHAT I WAS SUPPOSED TO DO IN THE CEREMONY, LET ALONE WHAT IT WAS ABOUT. I just thought it was a random club initiation, even though it seemed a little fancy. How was I supposed to know that I 'disgraced' the school through falling (only my friends, their parents, and the principal knew it wasn't an accident)?

[divinesolas]

the shortest marriage tour | finale

summary: you go through a whirlwind of events; struggles with wedding preparations, feasts in your honor, wedding ceremonies and the fun that comes with being married.

w.c: 6.6k

c.w: fluff, also a good amount of smut, father daemon, idk how weddings work, not proofread

a.n: i had so much fun with this series thank you all for the love !! sorry this took a little longer than expected i did not think this part would be so long 😭😭 MORE BEN TO COME TRUST !

benjicot series taglist: @poppyflower-22 @earth4angels @godofstory @melissaliciousx @jessie123878 @callsignwidow @kezibear @knight-of-flowerss @kitkat1sstuff @valdezthg @multyfangirl @duck-duck-goose2 @charvsz @bxdbxtxh15

part one - part two

As you had expected your parents were not happy with your wish to get married under the weirwood tree. Your father had been especially furious and the two of you got into a screaming match. You two have always had a playfully hateful relationship but you have never hated in the man and he you yet in these moments it was almost as if you two were enemies. Even your mother seemed more willing to give into the idea but your father was firm in denial which led you to now where the two of you would not even speak to one another.

You spent the majority of time with your mother though it was tense, she sort of danced around you as you mostly took reins on your wedding, picking out the food, contacting the seamstress for your dress it shocked your that your mother did not seem to be as involved until she dropped the bomb on you. “Your grandsire wishes for there to be a feast in your honor at the red keep. He,, wants to see you wedded in the sept.” you smash a glass on the ground as you glare at her. “And you tell me this now?!” “He is my father and your king, your grandsire he wishes to see you married,” she sighs as she watches you begin to pace around the room.

“So i am just meant to throw all the planning i have made out of the fucking window?!” Her face hardens, “I am your mother-” “then you should have told me! i would have been angry and furious but i would have compromised because he is the king but most of all you are my mother, and i shall always listen to my mother first.” Her face drops at your words, she walks over to you and grips your shoulders pressing her forehead against yours. “I am sorry. I should have told you sooner but you just seemed to happy and i dont know i did not want to ruin that for you. Maybe just wait a while longer to inform you.”

You sigh and take a step back before nodding. “I understand, well what am i to do with all ive done?” “We could hold a smaller event there?” You run you hands down along your face as you try not to curse. “So i am bound forever to have a boring wedding in front of the sept with every stuck up lord in all the kingdoms who wish to kiss my ass.” She laughs, “You sound so much like your father.”

You frown at the mention of your father and she grips your hand. “Speak to him.” You try to turn away at her words but she keeps you firmly in front of her. “He will never admit it but he misses you he has been mopping about since you two fought.”

You sigh. You hate to admit it but you miss him too and it pained you to see your mother upset that you too were not in a good place. So that night you walk out onto the beach to see him sitting on the dock staring out into the ocean. He does not turn to you when you sit down next to him but there is enough space between you two you are able to place the bottle of wine you had brought down with you.

“its seems we both lose father, i am to be married by a sept in kings landing.” He turns to you as you take a long sip from the bottle. “by whos decree?” “your brother, the king.” He takes the bottle as soon as you place it down and take a long chug from it. He sighs, “i will fight this, my daughter will not be married in a fucking sept.” “why? because its not the wedding you wished for me?” “because its not the wedding you want.”

You let out a stiff laugh with no joy in it as you admire the ocean. “im sorry.” You two sit in silence before he places a hand on your shoulder. No more words are exchanged but they dont need to be the two of you understand one another, actions speak louder than words.

The next day he argues against you getting married in the sept, much to everyone’s disbelief he flies out the next morning to kings landing to argue against it. It would be wrong for both of your beliefs, neither of you believe in the new gods and it would be out right disrespectful to both of you. After days of arguing with them, that you now know were the hightowers not so much your grandsire, daemon returned successful telling you a feast would be held in your honor but nothing more.

You are overjoyed and immediately run to write to benjicot about the news. True to his word the two of you had been exchanging letters back and forth since you left, the letters have been sweet, he tells you what he’s been up to, updates about the construction of the walk which is pretty much done and he even lets oscar and kermit write little notes to you asking you to come back because its boring with you around.

You had thought marriage would be miserable and leaving dragonstone would be much worse but this just proved to you your life would be full of a lot more joy then you had thought, you miss them, you miss being in raventree hall in the riverlands you miss the bright colored grass and waking up to the sound of ravens crowing and cattle moo’ing outside. You missed him.

The letters were nice but they could not fill the gap being without him made. You tended to tell him about your family and about the wedding preparations. The letters were always very sweet and normal until one day about one week away from your wedding a particular long letters is sent by ben to you and you were particularly curious about since he took much longer to write this one.

My love,

I hope all is still well since you last wrote to me. I apologize for the long wait i had been unsure of how to word my feelings properly as of late. I have been feeling particularly, off, as of late. Nothing bad of course but you have always run through my mind rampantly but as of recently i have begun to dream of you. See you when i close my eyes and when i think of you i begin to lose control of myself. My body my mind shivers and shakes at the thought of you. I should not say these things but it has been the only thing i have managed to think of. I imagine your lips, the way they had felt on mine but i imagine them going lower down my jaw to my neck down my chest.

Yet i would never allow you to go lower it would be rude you are a princess, i must worship you. find myself on my knees and defiling you. I imagine the way you would sound as i slipped my fingers inside you. would you scream in delight? or are you the type to sink your teeth into the side of my neck to silence yourself? would you be able to contain yourself as i lick at your most sacred area? would you pull on my hair has i wrap my lips around you bud? and when i stand to slide my way into you would your nails run marks down my back i am sure to be teased about?

i would wear your marks with honor. take me however you wish i would allow it i would let you do anything to me. I have imagined this all too well, so well in fact i have carved it into my memory that every night i must have to act upon my urges with my hand.

It is sinful and this letter is scandalous but i cannot stop myself. I dream of your perfume and the way it fills my lungs i could never get enough of you. Do you picture me? as i picture you?

with all my love, ben.

A knock on your door has you screaming and you slam a book on the letter as the maid walks into the room. One of your hands cover your mouth as you rush to take deep breaths. The maid looks startled at you as she almost drops the tray she had been holding in her hands. “tea?” you gesture her to place it on your table and she rushes to do so before she quickly leaves and you cannot manage to get your breath back to normal as you peer down at the letter once more. that monster! he had rejected all your teasing touches and scandalous words during your month there only to send such a letter to you now? right before the feast and your wedding? You stand up to pace as you think about what to do.

You first thought is to burn the letter and act like this never happened. But you did not want that. You liked the letter, a lot. Much more then you would like to admit with the way your soaked. You hate him. Why would he do this to you? An idea suddenly pops into your head and a grin appears on your face. You can play his game too, and win.

You rummage around in your drawers before finding what you wanted before running back to your desk and getting a paper in ink out before writing to him.

my beloved,

well hello to you too. you are certainly posses the best penmanship out of all the men ive ever written to. This was certainly a surprise to open up imagine i had been around my family! how awful. though before i begin i would like to tell you i have been well, and my dress has finally been completed though by your words that certainly does not matter much to you. Have a pictured you? you certainly already know the answer i have told you as much? do you remember the night you had rejected me out in the woods?

i had gone back to my room and touched myself in ways i had hoped you would. did you not hear me? when i cried your name on my lips as i peaked? i tried to be loud enough i guess i will need to try harder. You should know i am never one to be quiet. as for your predictions and thoughts i shall leave you guessing until our fateful wedding night but let me leave you with this. if you shiver at the mere thoughts of me you will certainly love what i plan to do to you.

if you forbid me from going on my knees then i can certainly find other ways to play with you. my hands would slide down your chest as i wrap my hands around your cock and stroke you until you are shaking and then i would push you back onto the bed and ride you until you are seeing stars. i would grab your hand and have your rub my bud as your hips thrusted up to meet mine in a fury and as you grow closer i will tell you to wait. and you’ll wait and wait and wait until you are begging me to let you release and when you do i will not stop. Maybe you’ll flip me over and take me again? who knows im just throwing out ideas.

i hope you’re taking notes as this is what how im expecting our long waited first night to go. since you missed my scent so much i hope this letter brings you some relief. and maybe even my other gift will too, they’re freshly washed maybe you’re disappointed by that you dirty man.

my heart,

you sign your name and grab your lipstick to apply it and press a kiss to the bottom on the page before soaking the letter in way too many sprays of your perfume before you roll it up and slip it into the small pouch you had put one of your pairs of underwear in before tying the small bag to your bird. “Go take this to benjicot.” Your bird flies off down the familiar path its probably done a hundred times by now and you try to shake off your nerves. Maybe you shouldnt have done that. what if someone else gets to it? you won’t know until you see him in the keep as he certainly wont have enough time to get one out to you now.

You ring the bell and ask the maids to run you a cold bath. as cold as they can make it. You begin to feel sticky and you could not stop lightly shaking as your hands itched to bring you some sort of comfort but you forbid yourself until you got into the bath and dismissed the maids knowing nobody would bother you for the rest of the night.

You anxiously await seeing him. you had ridden with your parents and viserys joffrey and aegon in a carriage having left your dragon in raventree not too long ago with some maesters until you return soon. You arrived a day earlier than your siblings and benjicot and rush to see your siblings the second they arrive. You have a quick greeting with them until you urge them to follow you.

“Why the rush dear sister?” “Maybe because she is eager to see her soon to be husband jace.” baela laces her arm through yours and grins at you. “I am excited to meet this mystery man, father even talks highly of him.” “and father talks highly of no one.” rhaena cut in but you merely laugh and shake your head. “Or maybe it is because i am eager to get this feast over with who wants to spend the evening with the fucking hightowers?”

They were completely right. you were more than excited to see ben and looked around the compound for him as soon as you arrived. You force down the pout that grows on your face as you cant seem to see him anywhere and turn to your siblings who all stare with a knowing look. “What? don’t look at me like that?” Jace places a hand on your shoulder but the mischievous grin he has on his face offers you no comfort. “Don’t cry dear sister im sure he will show up soon.” You slap his arm off your shoulder as they begin to laugh and you roll your eyes. “You are an insufferable little shit.”

“she does not deny she is about to cry oh dont cry dear sister.” you knock lucerys on the head and he winces, “once you can hold a fucking sword in your hand then you can speak to me like that.” “You’re so mean sister.” you open your mouth to argue but a whistle behind you and when you turn around a big grin forms on your face. You rush away from your siblings and when you get close enough he wraps you in his arms and spins you around once before setting you back down on the ground and pressing his forehead against yours.

As much as you wish to kiss him you know that would cause too much of a scandal so you simple press a kiss against his cheek as he grins. “I have missed you.” “I missed you a lot more.” You press your head into his neck where you lips are right next to his ear. “Did you like my letter?” He hums as his arms tighten around you, his head dips into the crook of your neck and he takes a long deep breath in. “did i like it?,” you feel him pinch at your side, “You know the answer.” you pull away slightly and look him in the eye. “And what of my gift?” He rubs his nose against yours as he lets out a shaky breath. “the things i have done with your gift are, unspeakable.” you feel the heat build up in your face as you slap him his shoulder and push him away.

“no hugs for us?” You turn to oscar and kermit and you throw your arms around their shoulders. Your siblings had walked over at some point and had begun introducing themselves so when you turn back around it looks like they are full on interrogating him. When you slip your arm though bens he shoots you a smile that screams ‘please save me’. Jace in particular has his arms crossed as he glares at ben, “oh relax jace he is a nice man.” your brother huffs and benjicot wipes a bead of sweat that drops down his forehead.

“You’re scaring him, trust me if he wanted to defile me i gave him many the opportunity yet my purity is in tact.” This has your brother tensing as baela covers her mouth with a laugh, “Whatever are you talking about?” “when i had waited for him in the library in nothing but my silk night gown he merely took off his cloak and told me i must be cold imagine my disappointment.” he deadpans as he looks between the two of you and turns back to you alarmed when ben merely turns away with his ears bright red “tell me you are jesting.” “if it will make you feel better.” “it would.” “then of course i was kidding! do you really think i am so deprave?”

he glares at you as a guard walks over and tells you your parents wished to see you and you turn to ben who squeezes your hand. “i shall see you later.” he lifts up your hand to press a kiss on the back before he walks off with a small wave. “he seems sweet, you pick well dear sister” You smile at baela and thank her as you watch ben walk off with oscar and kermit in his tail. it really hits you that you’re going to be married in a few days time and you cant help but grow more and more excited. “you really like him.” “i do.”

Your afternoon is a blur, you watch as your siblings greet your parents and dreadfully greet alicent and her children who look less than happy to see any of you but you all suck it up for the sake of the day knowing you’ll be gone before the sun even rises tomorrow. You are suddenly rushed to your room to get dressed in some fancy dress and some ridiculous hair that has you itching. its just for one night, you repeat to yourself over and over agin in the hopes you will not tear off your clothes or scratch at your hair so the pins would fall out.

The only thing that brings you relief is seeing benjicot sitting with the rest of your family at the end table with a spot empty right next to you. “well you clean up nicely.” He certainly did. His hair slicked back away from his forehead while outfit is completely black with red accents, if you look closely you could see little ravens stitched into the fabric. a light blush covers his face as he looks you up and down as he smiles, “you are the prettiest woman ive ever seen.” you slap his shoulder lightly as your grin, “and you are the most handsome man ive ever seen” his chest puffs up at your complimentary words and he helps you into your seat.

Your grandsire and your parents give speeches you don’t bother to listen to simply playing with bens fingers under the table until people start coming up to you to give you there congratulations. this was the part you hated the most, where every lord and lady comes up and tells you how happy they are for you and sneakily try to tell you they brought a very nice gift that you will probably never look at and you have to sit there with a painful smile as benjicot took over as you barely even wanted to look at these people. He was a much better communicator than you were and everyone who spoke to him seemed please you were happy at least one of you would be good at dealing with the stuck up lord and ladies.

Except when he walked up and you could tell he was growing angry. you place a hand on his chest and scoot up further in your chair in a silent motion telling him you’ll handle this. “lord braken,” he bows his head and aeron practically hides behind his father, “what a pleasure.” benjicot laces his fingers with yours and squeezed them tightly as he tried not to speak. “congratulations are in order princess what a wonderful occasion.” you grind your jaw as you smile and nod, “thank you lord braken.” He does allow his eyes to look at benjicot for a moment before he looks back at you. This was not going to be good.

“though it is quite a shame you are marrying a man of, his nature.” benjicots knees hits the table and everyones eyes turn to look at him but he remains silent. You grip his hand tightly but keep your eyes on the lord braken. you can see aeron tug on the his fathers back trying to get him to step back and walk away but lord braken does not falter. so you lean across the table and grin at him, “if you do not get the fuck out of my sight in the next five seconds you and your family will be nothing but food for my fucking dragon so i suggest you walk away. Now.”

He laughs awkwardly and takes a couple steps back as you settle back into your seat, “good day.” he quickly runs away and you begin to laugh. You turn to benjicot pleased and see him admiring you, “what?” he just shakes his head, “i really like you.” you blow raspberries as you try to ignore pounding of your heart and the heat in your stomach, “i would hope so.”

He suddenly stands and you look at him confused until he holds his hand out to you, “would my lady like to dance with me?” You grab his hand and let him pull you up, “you sure you want to i am an awful dancer?” he leads you to the floor anyway, “im sure you’re better than you say.” you laugh, “if you say so, if your feet begin to bruise its not my fault.”

You are a fine dancer, maybe a little sloppy and out of practice but he is more than happy to dance with you. You felt so happy like it could never get better than this, just you and benjicot. The rest of the night went just as well, no more annoying lord as you spent the rest of night on the dance floor until the two of you called it a night.

you would head back to dragonstone for some final prep while benjicot head to raventree hall for the wedding. You did not want to leave him once again but he assured you these last couple days would fly by and your wedding would be here before you knew it. “once this is all over we’ll get to spend the rest of our lives together.” You would be flying back alone and the rest of your family would be traveling together in carriage to raventree hall and you would meet them there as after the wedding they would come back to king's landing.

It was odd packing up all your stuff, your room now barren and empty. all the things you’ve ever known packed up in boxes. It did not bother you much to leave kings landing it never felt like home despite never knowing anywhere else but here? in dragonstone where you grew up with your siblings? where you learned how to use a sword? you find yourself staring at the castle before forcing yourself into the carriage and letting it take you and all your stuff to raventree hall. You did not think you would cry but you do and you’re thankful nobody else is there to see it.

Its snowing. all the land that the eye could see was covered in snow. Raventree hall is packed by the time you arrive and people rush to you the second you jump out of the carriage, “please theres enough of me to go around.” oscar rolls his eyes and grabs you, “come on you need to see this.” he drags you off with kermit not too far behind and you have no clue what he could be showing you until you are standing in front of it. “wow.” “i know right, its amazing.”

The boarder between the lands stood tall, the dark oak wood towers over you, its much taller than you had thought it would be. oscar smacks you on the shoulder, “this wouldn’t be possible without you my benevolent princess.” he dips into a low bow and you cant help but laugh, “yes i am rather charitable dont you think? it is my duty to help the needy.” You hope it makes him happy, the stones gone and you can no longer even see the braken castle. “does he like it?” kermit laughs at your question, “like it? i swear he’s never looked happier.”

The three of you are soon dragged back to the castle walls and you are forced into the main hall. Benjicot is not there much to your disappointment but two very unfamiliar faces are. You quickly find out they are lord cregan stark and his wife alysanne stark aka benjicots aunt. “it is so nice to finally meet you princess. Benji writes so much about you.” ”no need to be so formal alysanne we are to be family.”

with your que alysanne, who begged you call her aly, asks you many questions about your relationship with benjicot and you ask her about the north where cregan buts in and the three of you engage in a very long conversation. The two of them are very nice people and they make you promise to come to the north sometime to spend some time there and you assure them you will.

as the night grows later you find it odd benjicot has not come out to greet you until you find out the two of you are not to see each other until you walk down the aisle. Its just one more night, one more night until you spend the rest of your lives together. You toss and turn that night despite the fact everyone told you to get as much rest as possible. you stare up at the ceiling and wonder if benjicot is in the same state, if he cant sleep because he’s thinking about you.

You certainly have no time to be exhausted when you are immediately woken up and tossed into a whirlwind of events. a piece of bread is shoved into your mouth as maids urge you into the bath, scrubbing you down head to toe. You barely have any idea whats going on until your mother walks into the room and she gasps at you. “you look beautiful.” they had been working on your hair for only the gods know how long but you had been tied tightly into your dress. your mother stands before you with tears in her eyes, “oh look at you.”

“oh don’t cry mother ill ruin my makeup.” you cannot handle seeing her cry, already overwhelmed with emotions. she wipes the tears off her face but they dont seem to stop leading your eyes to well up so badly one of the maids had to walk over and put a cloth near your eyes to catch the tears. “i am so happy for you.” “thank you mother.”

she nods and composes herself, sitting on the bed and you narrow your eyes at her serious look. “what?” she sighs and runs her hands along her skirt. “there are things that happen on your wedding night,” “oh my gods.” you turn around and the maids rush around you to continue working on your hair. “i have to tell you this, unless you already know.” you look at her through the mirror and you can tell what she means immediately by her words. “do you all think so low of me everyone assumes i have been defiled? i am as a girl my age is.” she lets out a sigh of relief but she ends up tilting your head at your wording. “what does that mean?” “it means i have touched myself.” the maids freeze at your words and so does your mother but you shrug. “what? i am a growing women.” “how do you even know about that?” “father gave me a book.” “daemon?”

The man in question walks into the room and every pair of eyes turns to look at him. “what?” “father remember that book you gave me?” daemon looks up and he looks thoroughly confused until a flash comes across his face and he brightens up with a laugh. “yes yes i remember.” rhaenyra glares at him but he just shrugs, “she was complaining to me about feeling, pains, and i simply provided her the resources to make it go away.” she glares at him and mumbles something about them talking about it later.

Your father eyes you, “face me.” you turn around again as the maids finally finish and they all stepped away from you. rhaenyra stands next to daemon the two look at you. you see the tears in rhaenyras eyes again and she wipes them away. “oh my beautiful girl.” daemon says nothing but he has an unreadable face as he stares at you. you punch him lightly in the stomach, “not even going to tell me i look pretty?” he lightly chuckles, “you already know that.” you pout at him, “it would be nice to hear.” he grabs yours shoulders and you are shocked by the sudden contact, “you are the prettiest princess in the whole realm.” you would normally think hes kidding, his word choice as comedic as always but you can tell he’s being serious. “thank you father.”

Before you know it you are being looked over once more before being taken outside for the ceremony. You had not taken into account when designing your dress that it would be snowing but luckily alys had brought her wedding cloak for you to wear. She had worn it when she got married in the cold snowy winter in winterfell and assured you it would keep you as warm as a freshly baked bread. You almost tear up again at the gesture but you try your best to compose yourself. your father stands at your side and you loop your arm through his.

“can you believe that when you crushed my toe with your heel we would end up like this?” you laugh and shove him with your elbow and he laughs with you. “see are you now thankful i insisted we leave that night.” he hums but says nothing and you look at him. He looks, sad? you turn to him and grab his hands. “i shall visit you father i promise, you will not grow older and bitter without me.” he rolls his eyes but he looks more than pleased at your words, “then i shall bother you for the rest of my life.” you groan as the two of you stand back into proper place. “oh please i take it all back i did not mean it.”

with one final laugh he ques for the doors to be open and the first thing you notice is the cold rush that hits your face. you close your eyes at the rush but make sure to maintain your pace, the covering you have on your face doing nothing to protect you. yet when you finally open your eyes you see the face of everyone you love yet your eyes cant seem to tear away from him. Standing tall infront of the weirwood tree you almost burst into tears. dawned with furs and his hair slicked back once again, his hair is covered in white snow flakes with a bright smile on his face. he wipes his eyes quickly as you begin to get closer. you turn to your father who lifts up your veil and presses a small kiss on your forehead before walking off and you stand in front of benjicot.

His eyes swell up as he looks at you and you cant help but do the same. “you are so beautiful.” he whispers to you as the maester begins to speak. the ceremony is everything you could have dreamed of and more. Your hands tied together and words spoken in sync, sealing you together forever with a perfect kiss. it was the most magical moment of your life. the crowd cheers as you look up at the ravens who stare you down and you can hear morningstar roar in the background this day could not get any better.

the feast afterwards was much better than the one in the red keep. nobody bothering, no need to pretend for a single second you were overjoyed and ben could not keep his hands off you, calling you his wife any chance he could get. though you could barely eat, too excited for the events that will occur after you call it a night and it seemed ben could not wait either as his hands massaged any skin he could get and he pressed his head into your neck to smell you.

after way too long you two finally call it a night, ignoring the whistles of your friends you sprinted down the halls with bens hand in yours as the two of you laugh. You finally reach his room and the two of you simply stare at one another with stupid smiles. “have i told you that you are gorgeous?” you take a step towards him and he does the same, “only a couple hundred times.” his lips dance over yours and his next words come out as a hushed whisper, “i feel as though i have not done it enough.”

he kisses you slowly as his hands find its way to your back and begin to untie the dress much slower than you would like. his lips trail down your neck and you throw your head back. as he continues to unlace every tie, “ben.” you hear him rumble in annoyance, “why does this thing have so many ties?” you laugh and reach behind you to help him and your dress suddenly drops to the floor, leaving you bare in front of him. He steps back and his eyes dart all over your body.

You smirk and spin around for him, “you pleased?” he jumps you like a dog you fall back onto the bed with a squeal as he grips your tits in his hands, “i am more than fucking pleased.” you moan as his hands continue to knead at your skin and his lips dance around your collarbone. “you are wearing too much.” you manage to get out as you would much rather feel his skin against yours. he laughs and pulls away from you, “as my lady commands.” you sit up on your elbows as you watch him strip down into nothing licking your lips at him. he crawls back onto of you and you run your hands down his chest, “you were hiding all this under your stupid tunics.” he pinches your slide as his hands find your core and rub the folds of your slit, “does my lady wish for me to wear no shirt?” “your lady wishes for you to stick your fingers inside her.”

he does exactly as you say and grip his shoulder, his fingers were longer than yours, thicker and more coarse, which just two fingers he can reach places you had only ever dreamed about. “please ben.” “please what?” “another one.” he adds another finger and his lips wrap around one of your nipples as his free hand places with your other one. His fingers suddenly press just right against your walls and you cry out, “right there oh fuck.” he continues to hit that point over and over as his thumb circled around your clit. the stimulation of his fingers and his mouth are too much for you to bare and your legs shake as you release all over his fingers.

when he pulls his fingers out he wraps them around his cock. you whine at his actions and wiggle your hips towards him, “please fuck me ben.” he laughs and moans as his hand quickens, “i thought you had so many wonderful ideas of what were were going to do?” “lets save it for another night, ben please.”

“anything my lady says.” with a couple more tugs of his hand he lines himself up before he pushes into you slowly. it aches. stretches you out you begin to hiss, he presses his lips against yours as he slides in fully. the two of you stay like that for awhile. he doesn’t dare move an inch without your okay. he pulls away from your lips and grips your face with his hands, “are you good?” you nod and test the waters by moving your hips a little. It did not ache as much and the sound he lets out is more than enough to please you. “fuck me.” he looks at you for assurance and you nod right before he begins to move his hips. your legs wrap around his hips and you shove your head into his neck as he pounds into you.

your hands scratch down his back and he hisses, “fuck you feel so good.” you can do nothing but mumble nonsense as you such into the skin of his neck. the room full of the sounds of skin slapping and the wet sounds of him pushing in and out of you. You bite into his neck once his hand slips between you too and plays with your clit once again. “ben,” you could not stop the bubble feeling in your stomach, the hot rushes all over your body. your skins burned against one another you could start a fire. “im gonna,” you words have him somehow moving fast and you feel him nod against you, “please do please.” you realize he has been waiting for you to release, most likely already way beyond his peak. once he feels you spur around him he also release, painting the inside of your walls.

the two of you lay still. he does not dare slip out of you. the two of you are sweaty and sticky but you have never been happier when he pulls back to look at you. “we should have been doing thats sooner.” you laugh and slap his chest, “i was trying you fool but you would not give in.” you feel him grow harder inside of you but he slips out suddenly, before you can whine about feeling empty he flips you back over and quickly slips back into you. “lets make up for lost time then.”

[helaintoloki]

the other Hargreeves siblings being absolutely teary-eyed on the day of y/n and Five’s wedding. they like to think of her as an adopted member of the family, because she’s gone through so much with them, gotten so close to death in multiple occasions while trying to save them. after everything, they never thought to see her live out the happy life she deserve, much less getting married to Five.

a/n: i am a sucker for found family tropes and wedding pieces so this was fun for me to write

warnings: none i think ? mostly fluff

Your stomach feels as if it’s tied into a million knots, and you can’t bring yourself to even touch the plate of fruit Klaus had fetched for you to nibble on as you got ready for the big day. Allison works diligently to perfect your look despite her insistence that you should have just let her hire a professional to get the job done, but you were adamant about keeping everything as simple as possible. Neither you nor Five wanted some big extravagant mess when it came to your ceremony, and if it had been up to you both you would have just settled for a courthouse marriage, but his family wouldn’t have it. You were finally becoming an official Hargreeves, and they deemed it necessary to celebrate with a proper wedding and reception despite the fact that there really would only be about ten guests at most.

You met Five in the apocalyptic ruins of the world while scavenging for food. Despite everyone you knew and cared about perishing in the gale of fire that blanketed the earth, you had miraculously survived. Call it pure luck for being at the right place at the right time, but you had been searching for a flashlight in your underground basement when the moon had been struck, and the reinforced steel structure of the room had kept you from suffering the same fate as everyone around you.

Neither of you trusted each other in the beginning, but you both were smart enough to realize that sticking together was necessary for your survival, and so you put aside your differences to travel the apocalyptic wasteland together. That’s not to say there weren’t times when you got on each others nerves or wanted to strangle him with your bare hands, but with time your partnership evolved into an actual friendship, and perhaps it could have evolved into more if not for the constant distractions that arose during your fight for survival.

Allison accidentally poking your eye with a mascara wand interrupts your moment of reminiscing, and she merely gives you an apologetic smile when you shoot her a look of annoyance in return.

“I told you we should have hired a professional,” she reminds you matter of factly only for you to lightly swat her hand away.

“And I told you I wanted to go down to the courthouse and pick up a sheet cake at the grocery store,” you counter with a raised brow. Sensing defeat, Allison relents with a small sigh and takes a step back to look at her masterpiece.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just our family doesn’t get to do these sorts of things very often, and it’s not every day I get a new sister.”

Your shoulders slump guilty at her admission, and you find yourself now feeling less combative against her than you initially were. Though you mentally are in your 50’s and no longer see a need to have a big wedding to marry a man you’ve known for basically your whole life, you still physically look like a young bride, so it’s only natural for Allison and the rest of Five’s siblings to want to treat you as such. From what Five has told you along with the stories that have been recounted in your presence, their lives have always been less than normal. You of all people can relate to that- growing up in an apocalypse, becoming a glorified secretary for a time-ordinance bureau while your only friend is out on assignments, risking your life to save the world, ending multiple apocalypses. The list could go on forever. They’re only trying to experience normal family milestones, so who are you to get in the way of that.

“No, I’m sorry,” you relent with a remorseful sigh. “I know you’re just trying to be nice, and I’m grateful for how quickly you and your siblings have welcomed me into the family despite how unconventional this all is. I really appreciate it.”

“Good, I’m glad you see it my way,” Allison teases playfully before finishing up the final touches on her masterpiece.

“Knock, knock,” Klaus singsongs from outside your dressing room before letting himself in. Proudly holding up the plastic wrap bag from its hanger, he announces, “Here I am with the dress, and as promised, nothing happened to it under my watch.”

“Thank you, Klaus,” you smile gratefully only for him to return the gesture with an affectionate pinch of your cheek.

“No need to thank me, sweetheart. I’m just so excited to finally have a little sister!”

“You know I’m technically older than you right?” You retort with a raised brow only for him to press a finger to your lips.

“Shh, don’t ruin this for me,” he gently corrects you before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. You don’t miss the way his eyes begin to water at the sight of you with your hair and makeup done, but you’re kind enough not to point it out. Klaus had been the easiest of Five’s siblings to warm up to, always treating you like one of his own and roping you into his mischief despite your fiancé’s protests. The Seance couldn’t even count on one hand how many times you had been there to lend a shoulder for him to cry on when his addiction became too much or offer a supportive hand when his siblings had been less than eager to do so. He adored you, and he could nearly burst with pride at finally being able to call himself your brother.

“Alright, we have thirty minutes left to get you into that dress and down that isle,” Allison announces with a determined clap of her hands before snatching the dress from Klaus. “Are you ready to officially become Mrs. Hargreeves?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you announce with a resigned sigh before immediately being pulled every which way by the two siblings to finish your ensamble.

You can’t wait to get this over with.

~~~

“You nervous?” Viktor whispers with a gentle nudge to Five’s side. Quiet chatter drifts through the air as the handful of guests that are present make conversation to pass the time before the ceremony begins. Neither of you exactly have big families; Five has only ever had his siblings, and your family isn’t exactly supportive of your choice of groom. It’s an intimate affair, but you both prefer it that way.

“Hardly,” he scoffs indignantly, though his need to readjust his tie for the millionth time says otherwise. Five knows that this probably should have happened sooner and promoting you from his partner to his wife has been long overdue. He was honestly surprised you had said yes when he’d finally bit the bullet and asked the question. He loved you, cared for you in a way he never thought possible and in a way that honestly wasn’t quite like him. But you were different, and he hadn’t risked it all trying to end multiple apocalypses just to not marry you once the world was finally safe.

“I’m glad you’re happy, we all are,” his brother notes with a kind smile. “She’s good for you, and she’ll be a good addition to the family.”

Five can’t argue with that. It honestly pains him to think about just how many times you’ve thrown your own life on the line for not just him but his siblings as well. You’ve been there for them even when it wasn’t your responsibility, when they technically weren’t your family yet, even when Five himself wasn’t the best brother to them all. While Five could at times be brash or crude, you were patient and understanding, and this balance helped make their team stronger. You’d make a fine Hargreeves; he wouldn’t be standing here today if that weren’t the case.

Behind the wooden double doors you nervously readjust your veil as you wait for your cue to enter the room. Diego holds your bouquet patiently on your left while Luther fluffs out the skirt of your dress for you on your right. Having no real family present for your big day, you were left without anyone to give you away to your new husband. Diego and Luther had both been eager to throw themselves at the chance to be at your side down the aisle, constantly at each other’s necks arguing over who deserved the right more. Of course, as the bride it was you who got the final say, and the choice couldn’t have been more obvious. You picked them both.

Both men had been put through a lot by your fiancé, from having to carry his drunken form out of a library to dealing with his fits of rage at their inability to meet his deadlines for important tasks, but they had always been kind to you despite the unorthodox nature of your relationship with their brother. Luther had taken several bullets for you before, and Diego hadn’t shied away from being a supportive shoulder to cry on whenever you and Five couldn’t see eye-to-eye. It would feel wrong not to have them both by your side, and they were honored.

“You scared?” Diego questions after noticing your tight grip on his bicep when the music begins. He has to hold back a wince from the way your manicured nails dig into his arm and distracts himself by handing you your bouquet.

“A little,” you answer honestly, harshly swallowing down your nerves when Luther opens the doors for you to walk through.

“You’ve got this,” Diego encourages after pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. “If anyone is brave enough to marry my brother, it’s you.”

“Brave or maybe a little insane,” Luther adds under his breath.

You can’t help the small huff of air that pushes past your lips in response to his quip, but you’re given no time to respond as your soon-to-be brother-in-laws escort you to your awaiting husband.

No one can deny how absolutely breath taking you look in your elegantly simple wedding gown, your smile nervous as you make your way towards Five who looks so handsome in his perfectly tailored suit. All day you’ve wanted nothing more than to see him, but now that you’re here you find yourself full of nerves and anxiety.

Luther and Diego give you away at the end of the isle (not without sternly warning Five to take good care of their new sister), and you finally find yourself face-to-face with the man you’ve loved for years.

“You ready for this?” He whispers under his breath as Viktor begins his officiant speech, subtly reaching for your hand to give it a reassuring squeeze.

“This won’t be the worst thing we’ve done together,” you note cheekily with a shrug as you hide your smile behind your bouquet, and Five can’t argue with that.

Though his siblings have been better at showing their excitement for this day than you or Five combined, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t happy to finally be marrying the boy who had been by your side through thick and thin, good and bad, and life and death. Perhaps your love story was a bit unconventional, but unconventionality is a Hargreeves speciality.

You’re going to fit right in.

[shoyudon]

dad!choso is on my mind. he’d be the sweetest husband/father to-be. i just know he’d hold our hand the entire time and say things like “i wish i could take this pain away from you.”

𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐀'𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐘 .ᐟ

keeping up with the choso family

starring. choso x fem! reader

heads up. pregnancy, giving birth, you're in you're 20s during shibuya (around nanami's age), all information are from research.

note. NONNIE, FIRST OF ALL YES. I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS ABOUT THIS??? i just know he'd cry during every one of these moments, i'm gonna sob, i miss him so much.

the first time choso met you, he didn't know you'd be his life companion. pushing aside at the fact that you both were enemies at first, being a jujutsu sorcerer assigned to shibuya wasn't really the best circumstances for first meetings — which practically didn't happen smoothly.

long story short, he actually hurts you with his blood manipulation. not enough to kill you, but enough to consider it a 'medical emergency'. he is really sorry about it though; when he saw you protect yuuji despite your injuries, he just knew he had to have you.

choso made it clear that he regretted hurting you — especially when his technique left a scar on your skin. specifically on your shoulder, and your lower abdomen. occasionally pressing his lips onto your scars, the vivid drawings of your stitches still embedded into your skin.

"'m sorry . . ." choso whispers out into your skin, burying his face into your stomach as you both lay down on the bed. once again, he was feeling apologetic for hurting you more than a year ago. every day after shibuya, he was busy apologizing to you for hurting you.

"cho, that was what . . ? more than a year ago? you need to stop apologizing, baby," raking your fingers through his hair, he sighs out in content, leaning his cheek onto your stomach — his arms draped around your thighs.

when he asks you to marry him, he subconsciously did it because he panicked. choso had it all planned for a whole month, and managed to ruin it in three minutes on the day he was going to propose to you because you were just so captivating, he just lost all senses of everything he practiced.

"please, marry me," choso blurts out, his mind going one hundred miles per second — he wasn't even sure if he was conscious at that point, "i love you so much and i can't think of my life without you, please marry me," he whispers, squeezing your hand gently.

choso actually got help from everyone on what to say and what to do, which all went down to drain when he decided to use his heart to propose to you. and it worked out well anyways, "seriously? i'm gonna cry," you fanned your eyes.

believe me when i said that choso was on the edge of his seat, waiting for your answer. when you exclaimed out a happy and tearful, "yes!", he could finally breathe out in relief, raising your hand up to his lips in happiness, slipping the ring he even forgot for a second.

choso actually told himself that he wouldn't cry during his own wedding. months before the reception — he finds himself watching wedding videos and happily kicking his feet at the sight of the groom crying, he believed he wouldn't, because he's seen you everyday. right? right?

wrong. the moment the tall doors opened and there you started walking down the aisle slowly, choso felt overwhelmed at the fact that he was getting married to you, and you were getting married to him. he swore if it wasn't for yuuji, he would be laying down in front of the whole guest list, crying on the ground.

he stood there, instinctively wiping his tears — that were never-ending, and god, you looked so beautiful that all he could see was you. choso felt like it was just you and him at that moment, no guest, no yuuji, just you.

after the ceremony, choso just wanted to go back home and if it weren't for you telling him to wait until everyone goes home, he'd technically kidnap his own wife and bring her back to their home. with a pout and a long face, he greets the guest with you, hand in yours like a little child who didn't get what they want.

"can we go back home now? my legs are killing me," he whispers, squeezing your hand, tugging you towards him, "jus' leave them, they're eating the night away . . ."

"let's wait until everyone goes home, okay?" you tell him. almost wanting to laugh at the sight of his fake offended gasp right after, choso didn't complain anyways — nodding his head as you tugged him towards a group of people to greet them.

when you both got home after a long day, choso immediately headed for the bedroom, tossing himself onto the bed, white shirt wrinkled and his tie messily pulled towards one side. eyelids half closed.

"cho, you know you have to shower before you sleep. you stink."

"mmm . . . wanna sleep," he moans out into the pillow, reaching his hand out to you in an attempt to bring you onto the bed, which did not work since you were too busy wiping off your makeup, "can't we just shower tomorrow? 'm so tired."

choso's never really thought about having kids. he didn't know how to take care of kids, nor how to react with kids. for some reason, the universe though — seemed to have bless him with a wave of "baby fever" one and a half year into the marriage. watching videos of random babies from all over the world doing baby things, and he felt his heart flutter at the sight.

that was when he knew, he wanted a family with you. technically, the two of you were already a family the moment you both got married — but he wanted an addition to your small family. a child.

he didn't really know how to break the fact that he wanted a baby with you, and so he tried subtle ways to do so. showing you baby videos, telling you how cute your kids would be, even pointing at baby shoes or onesies when you both go out.

by that point, you'd caught on to his little scheme, "why're you talking about kids a lot? baby shoes, baby onesies, baby videos, baby this, baby that," you informed him, threading your fingers through his hair as he laid his head on your lap.

"wan' a baby."

so when you broke the news that you were bearing his child, he cried. and by cry — i mean bawled out like a baby. clinging to you, overwhelmed at the fact that he was going to have a child with you, he was actually going to have a little family of his own.

just a few days after the news, he'd grown a lot more protective of your wellbeing. asking here and there about what you could and couldn't eat, or what might harm the growing baby inside you. searching here and there.

during your first trimester, more precisely, during your fifth week; the cravings began getting heavy and wonky. despite all that, choso still indulged in your cravings. hell, he even had to try some because he couldn't say no to you when you tried to share with him.

peanut butter and salmon sashimi, pickle juice with honey, cream cheese and fried chicken, ramen soup popsicles, bacon and toothpaste, milk and ramen seasoning, and more of those odd combinations. choso never did complain even once, if you wanted to eat something at three am, he'd run out and go find some no matter what — you were carrying his child, and he figured that was the least he could do for you.

"taste good, baby?" choso asks you, swiping his fingertips over the cream cheese spread on the corner of your lips.

nodding vigorously, you brought the half-eaten fried chicken messily dipped in the thick and white cream cheese spread — eyes shining brightly, as if asking him to try some with you. blinking in surprise, he took a bite. definitely a weird experience for him, and it was one of the oddest combination of food he had ever tried.

"'ts funny, but it's not bad," he swallowed after chewing the chicken a few times; reaching for the glass of water by the nightstand.

throughout your pregnancy, choso made sure to spoil you with a lot of things. the doll you looked at for a split second while the both of you ventured into the mall, the food he sees you browsing through his phone or your phone, tucking you in bed using the pillow he bought for pregnant women, and the feet massages for you everyday.

"where are you going?" choso asks, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. the dark spots under his eyes were getting darker every time — it was obvious the changes in his life had made it, but choso was more than enlightened to do it for you.

"want to drink," you whisper, letting out a cute incoherent noise as you tried to roll off the mattress.

choso was quick to hold you back, tucking you inside the bundle of covers, "i'll get it for you, stay here, okay?" he whispers, hopping off the bed to fetch you a glass of water — choso didn't want to keep you waiting, running off to the kitchen and fetching you a glass of water topped with a lot of ice cubes; something he noticed you'd chew on a lot ever since you got pregnant.

"here you go," he walks back carefully, handing you the water, pinching the skin on your nap gently as he watches you gobble the water down, parting your lips to pop in an ice cube or two.

nearing your due date, specifically just a few days after the 37th week — the contractions started. it was the ninth month, and it was expected. choso heard your hushed whimpers in his sleep, he would probably guess it was at dawn, probably around four? he didn't even bother checking on the time because all he cared was you.

he was barely awake, kicking off the covers and helping you. ushering you to slowly breathe in and out, his hand rubbing soothing circles on the hollow of your back. choso figured that he wanted you and the unborn child to be safe, and so he decided to bring you to the hospital where the experts are.

choso was worried beyond anyone else; even you. constantly staying by your side, his hair disheveled; a few strands going the opposite way, and tangled with each other. he laid his head down on the mattress, by your hand. choso laid his hand on your belly, rubbing against the cloth gently to ease the pain from the contractions.

at the early stage of labor, you were feeling cramps and an intense backache — which choso helped you through. he was glad he brought you to the hospital because not long after, your water broke. and he was there to help you through it all, clutching onto your hand as if he was holding on for dear life.

everything that the doctors or the nurses do, he felt his heart beat a notch quicker than earlier. choso was afraid, and he wasn't really afraid to admit it — i mean, you're his wife and you were carrying his child. he didn't want anything to happen to the both of you.

choso heard the doctor explain to him about what was going to happen, but everything that came in from his left ear exits through his right. he could barely remember anything because through out the explanation, he was too busy caring for you throughout the contractions that had grew a bit more intense during your active labor.

he hated everything inside the delivery room. it smelt like blood — choso was used to blood. but he didn't like it when it came from you, his heart drumming against his chest as he felt your grip tightened on his hand. frankly, he could care less if he broke a few bones as long as you and the baby were both okay.

choso hated seeing you in pain, even while delivering his baby. he didn't blame the baby, of course; he just wishes he could do something and take away the pain from you, latching his lips onto your sweat painted forehead. salty. he could taste your sweat against his lips, and despite that, he still refused to move.

"wish i could jus' take away the pain away from you, y/n," he whispers — hearing your pained grunt, your eyes glazed with fresh tears. and he kissed them away, whispering sweet nothings into your ears.

telling you it was just a bit more until you could see your baby, how proud he is of you, how much he loves you, how much he wished he could take away your pain, everything he felt in his heart at that moment all poured out into hushed whispers.

when the first cry of your baby echoed inside the rowdy delivery room, choso cried. he looked down at you, cradling your face in his hands, singing out, "good job, good job. 'm so proud of you, i love you so much."

the baby's a beautiful baby boy.

choso didn't want to hold the baby first as much as he wanted to — he felt like you deserved to touch the baby first after risking your life to birth him. and so he told the nurse to let you at least see the baby first, he refused to carry his son until you, his wife, touched him first; whether using your hands or any part of your body.

he stared in awe when the baby's loud cry eventually stopped when the nurse brought him to you, letting you coo at your own newborn son. his tears freely dropping, rubbing circles onto the back of your hand.

when the nurse asked him to have skin-to-skin contact, choso was nervous. what if he dropped his son? what if his son doesn't like him? what if his son doesn't like the way his skin feels? so many out of the box questions that didn't need to be answered were roaming in his mind.

as he slowly cradled his son, he blinked back the second round of tears that had threatened to fall. the light blue beanie stuck to his son's head seeped with a few drops of tears, leaning down to press his lips onto the baby's skin a few times. introducing himself as the baby's father and how happy he is to be one,

daichi l/n. that's the baby's name — it meant great first son. the both of you felt that it was a suitable name for your first baby.

choso slept on the small couch inside the hospital room during your healing week, in the middle of both you and him was daichi's small basinet where he slept soundly. he made sure to knock himself awake every now and then to check after both you and daichi.

when the hospital permitted you to go home, you completely relied on choso on heavy things — which you didn't even have to ask, he was already doing it for you. daichi gets a bit fussy at night, and choso always tells you to go back to sleep and that he'd handle the baby.

"you know, you're really noisy, right? mama's really worried about you," he gently poked the baby's cheek with his thumb as he cradled the small bundle of life affectionately, singing out a lullaby he remembered you singing to him years ago.

choso never knew he had a knack on changing diapers until you were occupied, and he had to change daichi's diaper. turns out he was really good at it, and from that day on — he's also told you that he got it. your body was still sore from delivery, and so everything around the house was mostly done by choso under your watch.

although choso's been the one taking care of daichi, he could definitely see how much the baby's turning out to be a big mama's boy even at a few months old. he noticed how daichi would only let you burp him, or sometimes daichi would get fussy when he felt choso raising him up during early mornings until you had to do it.

he didn't care. he wasn't jealous, daichi's still his son and he was glad that daichi loved you a little more than him. he'd like it if his baby prioritizes you first before him.

being a father is a great wonder to him. daichi's first word being 'mama', and his first steps was done while he was sauntering clumsily towards you. choso is such a proud father.

growing up, daichi turned out to be a big mama's boy. but still he loved choso too. now daichi lets choso carries him during mornings, and he relies on choso when something scares him while clutching onto your hand, taking small steps to hide behind choso. using his own father as a shield for him and you.

"don't worry, baby. 's just a lion in the screen, dada will protect us," you scooped the boy into your arms, pointing at the screen where a lion and its cub are walking.

"mmm. dada will protect you both," choso chimes in, ruffling daichi's thin hair.

daichi grew up loving boxing. you didn't know how he knows about it, but at the very next second, he was pestering choso to teach him boxing. and choso dreaded this because what was his son going to do at four years of age in pre-school with boxing? was he going to use it on his teachers? or his friends?

"no . . . maybe when you're older," choso's always said that, patting daichi's head as he does.

daichi whined every single time, but managed to forget when he saw some people drawing on TV. choso once again being a victim of his own son's pleading for some drawing lessons. as a father, choso of course accompanied daichi during his draw sessions in the living room right after the kid comes back from pre-school.

sometimes choso would draw too, having a little competition with his own son. which daichi mostly won — but at the same time, choso never complained about his loss. he was always proud of daichi.

"look, look mama! this is you, this is daichi, and this is dada!" daichi announces, pointing at every aspect of his drawing, explaining to you.

and to the fridge the drawing goes.

when daichi graduated pre-school, choso again, cried. taking pictures using the camera he had asked you to teach him how beforehand, and the pictures weren't the nicest. most of them being a blur of daichi walking down the stage with his small cap, waving his little hand to the camera.

choso was so proud of his son, of you, of himself. looking back— he's realized how far he had come despite not having to expect all of this. a loving wife. a son. a family.

choso was just glad he had his own little family now with you and his son. although . . . he wouldn't mind having another addition to the small community.

© shoyudon 2024 . no copying or reposting allowed !

[violet-eng]

Neuvillette and his arranged marriage with fem!reader - NSFW

Summary: so... Furina is such a gossipy and she's kinda boring so she wants Neuvillette to marry to some random girl that can be a challenge for him... would he like this traveler?

TW: smut. Has a plot. Kinda angst? p i v. Breeding kink, praising. Unprotected sex with this daddy judge. I think that's all... MINORS DO NOT INTERACT PLEASE JUST KEEP SCROLLING.

🎨: @zlidbhypy/@zljdbhypy

💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦

The judge had lived long enough to be carried away by appearances, his image in society was expected of a man with his profession, with his knowledge and his stature. However, in the eyes of Lady Furina, as much a lover of spectacle and scandal as possible, the great judge needed a slightly more modern image to present to the citizens of Fontaine-and perhaps to bring a little gossip as well.

The idea had consumed her so much that at the moment she met you she could think of nothing else but arranging an engagement with Monsieur Neuvillette. You were the living image of what she was looking for: a young woman of society, a foreigner with a wide knowledge of the vast continent and above all, ambitious. 

There was a flash that Lady Furina highlighted in you, a furious soul difficult to tame, a challenge for the great judge. How fun it would be to see that: the distinguished gentleman try to control the disdain of his future wife, lover of saucers with spicy mixes, so friendly to those with vision Pyro... almost as contrary to him.

You met Neuvillette a day before the wedding, when Lady Furina had given him the wonderful news that he would marry you. He could not refuse, not the Archon, and she was aware of that-that made the matter more fun.

Neuvillette looked serene during the announcement, did not give the Archon the joy of a grimace of disgust... of course not, he was not like that...

On the wedding day rain fell so much as to drown the neighboring nations, tormenting those present of the ceremony. Monsieur Neuvillette was outside the compound, admiring the horizon, yearning for the freedom he possessed years before. To this had its existence been reduced? To be a puppet for the entertainment of the Archon? To tie himself for life to a woman he didn’t even know? If only he could return to his old form... spread his wings and get out of that place...

"The rain is wonderful," you exclaimed beside him, tearing from his chest an impression he managed to hide. "I hope the tears of the Hydro dragon are of happiness for the wedding and not of misery".

"They’re just legends, stories for children," he said, though an inch of him, deep down, was delighted by the idea that unlike the rest of Fontaine’s inhabitants, you didn’t dislike the rain... the one he was provoking...

"All legends have some truth in them," you whispered, giving him a sincere smile.

The ceremony had been short because of the rain, yet your happiness was overflowing. Your dress was drenched, your hair was alike... Everything was ruined, Lady Furina kept saying it, and yet you seemed to be living the best day of your life. Neuvillette could not look away from you at any moment, you had bewitched him, a single phrase had sufficed to achieve that...

The room was spacious, exquisitely decorated, illuminated to depth, the details and finishes seemed measured with hard effort... very much like the great judge. You had been unwise to ask if you had separate rooms, that had upset him for a moment... You certainly didn’t seem to have the same scruples as him.

You opened the window of the room, resting your elbows on the frame and sucking the dew that the rain brought with it. Neuvillette stood still in his place, looking at your figure, analyzing every detail of your silhouette, trying to perceive your essence, your energy... There was definitely something special about you.

"Can I come out?" you asked, were you asking permission?

"You must not ask for my consent to be free in the place" actually, he did not think it proper from you to ask permission for something… he perceived you from the first instant as a free being in tune with nature.

"It’s my way of asking you to go out with me to enjoy the rain," you said, approaching him and extending your hand. 

The thick drops of water hit the roofs, the fountain of the courtyard was about to overflow with water, the surface covered of the leaves that the wind had brought with it. You got rid of your coat and your shoes, went into the fountain and sat in the middle, above the water level, your legs dipping, you picked up the dress on your knees. The fabric was thin, almost transparent now that you were soaked and uncovered. Neuvillette scanned the surroundings, hoping no one would look at you, you were his wife... was he jealous? No, it was a simple sense of duty now that he was a married man...

"Come closer" you said from your position, pointing your finger at the place in front of you. Neuvillette, almost hypnotized by your loud attitude, dragged his feet towards your spot, sitting across from you, likewise, his legs underwater. The familiarity of the rain on the current that had formed under his feet was pleasant, almost satisfactory, so much so that it incited him to move his hands on the surface of the water, forming figures that allowed his hydro vision. You smiled at the small spectacle he displayed for you, admiring the sublime movement of his hands, the way his fingers flexed on the leaves and the drops of water ran down his hands.

You leaned toward him, taking him by surprise, joining your lips with his. He did not turn away, but, on the contrary, he dropped his hand against your neck, drawing you closer to him, tasting the nectar of your lips and your tongue.

"I want something to be clear" you dictated separating yourself from him, "we’ll have children... not because the charlatan Archon wants it for her entertainment, no... we will have children because we both want it, it was clear?".

For all the Archons... those words coming out of your mouth, pure poison, so hostile to the Archon, calling her in a way that he could never, with your face framed by your soaked locks and your lips swollen by the kiss... There was nothing he could want but a woman like you. 

The matter of your affinity for the falling flood, added to your folly of calling the archon such a derogatory name... you were an interesting, exceptional creature whose behavior went beyond his control and knowledge. You were a challenge... his challenge... and his enthusiasm grew in his chest as well as in his pants.

You had both returned to the room in sultry form, between kisses and gasps, getting rid of your clothes on the way. He cornered you on the wall of the entrance, his hand in fist resting above your head, his forehead against yours, the other hand holding your chin, joining his eyes. Neuvillette’s chest rose strongly, seeking air, bewildered by the growing ecstasy, the desire among you that was born. 

Taking you by the waist, he turned you against the wall, your face crashing against the cold marble and your palms resting at your sides. You felt his breathing on your neck, his chest against your back, his hands sliding over your curves, right to your hips, over your panties. You let out a soft moan as you felt the fabric slip under your legs and fall to your ankles.

"Monsieur..." you whispered trembling as the cold pouring through the room brushed your thighs and bare ass. 

"You don’t look as bold as you did a few minutes ago," he whispered... low, almost growling, you swore he was smiling, you sensed it in his voice.

"It’s... just... ah~" you cut the phrase in half when you felt him slip into you, separating your folds, forcing you to suck it. Your hands in fist, your hips rising, trying to avoid its passage inside you, your shoulders gathering at the sensation that flooded your center, your sex. 

"Monsieur~" you moaned, your forehead wet against the marble, your hands scratching the wall looking for something to soothe the burning between your legs, the feeling of its length between your damp walls.

You didn’t think the judge would be so vocal. When he slipped into you, he grunted, so pleasantly your legs seemed to melt. You felt the breath of his groan in your ear, your name coming from his lips.

"So soft" he whispered, resting his hands on yours, his forehead on your shoulder, "so tight..." continued advancing, rising to the bottom, "so mine"...

Neuvillette fucked you against that wall as if he was in heat-and perhaps he was-as if you were going to escape at any time from his grip, though you couldn’t. 

The moans and gasps were embarrassing, thanks to the rain they did not cross the walls, the sound of wet skin crashing during each penetration was burning, lustful. The words that came out of the judge’s mouth every time you girded your limb were a sea of incongruities, just as the phrases that your mouth dropped when he caressed your clitoris, that little lump had become his favorite toy.

The onslaught was strong, your breasts pounding against the wall every time he burst into you, rubbing against your delicate interior, which seemed made for him.

"You take me so well," he groaned, as he continued his beat against you, your breasts rising and falling down the wall. You were trapped between the wall and the monster of pleasure the judge had become.

"I will fill you with my seed, I swear..." he gasped again, his voice raspy, with flashes of hunger and lust.

"Neuvillette~" you let out a high-pitched moan, had touched your point, that felt so fucking good, the way he arched to hit that gummy dot on your cervix. He kept going, and kept going, you didn’t want him to stop. Fuck, he was so good at it, who’d say a gentleman of his countenance could be taking you like an animal in heat.

He kept hitting that delicious spot inside you, stroking your sensitive organ, one, two... three times, you suddenly felt a knot forming in your belly.

"Oh my~... don’t stop Neuvillette~..." you begged, eyes closed, lips separated by groans. The sound of his gasps flooding your eardrum... you both were close…

His onslaught lost rhythm, the intensity was almost unbearable, he came out one last time to get into you, fucking you so hard that you felt your orgasm burst and you let out a scream. He would not take long to reach his climax similarly, unloading all his seed inside you

The bed was warm, you needed it after what happened... Neuvillette lay beside you, caressing your cheek, watching the way you fell asleep. 

He looked out the window, the rain had stopped. He was completely happy... so long ago that he did not feel the fullness he had at the time... 

He placed a soft kiss on your forehead, curling your head in his chest, feeling the warmth of your gentle breathing. He closed his eyes, falling asleep beside you, yearning to tell you one day about his identity... someday…

[sloanesallow]

tell me

Sebastian doesn't want to be married, but he's always been known to make the best of a difficult situation. (A little different than what I usually write, as this is technically an unnamed MC...though it's still very Sloane coded.) Sebastian Sallow x F!MC (Unnamed) Tags: MDNI, NSFW! Sexual content, arranged marriage trope, first time, stupid sexy Sebastian. 2.7k words [Ao3] | [Wattpad] | [Tumblr Masterlist]

There was only one semi-formal introduction between Sebastian and his betrothed after the engagement was announced, awkward glances exchanged as their families bartered over the marriage contract and dowry. She is a stranger to him, and will likely remain one—it’s rare for these types of arrangements to blossom into anything meaningful. As much as he wants to resist and run, Sebastian honors his familial duty and begrudgingly agrees, observing the way his wife-to-be holds back tears.

Poor girl.

The wedding ceremony isn’t any better.

Sebastian spends the night before in a haze of firewhiskey and denial, blacking out with the hope he’ll wake up and it’ll be a bad dream. Instead, he wakes up with a splitting migraine that worsens his already sour expression. The only reason he decides not to drink more is because of her, the anxiety and fear radiating off his bride as they exchange meaningless vows in front of a handful of guests. They are in this charade together, for better or worse—best not to alienate his only potential ally by making a drunken fool of himself.

He sits through the reception with disinterest, worried more about her fiddling with the golden ring on her finger, and how she hasn’t touched her food or wine. Sebastian isn’t stupid—he knows she is terrified of the inevitable when they retire to the wedding suite with the expectation of consummation. There’s very little he can do to calm her nerves, but that doesn’t mean he won’t try.

As soon as the door to their bedroom closes, he sighs, tugging loose his collar before crossing over to the decanter on the nearby table. He glances at her—his wife—watching as she stands in the middle of the room, fidgeting like a trapped animal. Sebastian fills a shallow glass with whiskey, the amber liquid sloshing as he brings the offering to her. She flinches, even as she shakily takes the drink without meeting his gaze.

“You’re trembling,” he states the obvious, studying the curve of her lips as she takes a small sip. “No need to be so damn frightened. I’m not going to devour you.”

She gasps, snapping a hand to her mouth as the whiskey nearly sputters from her lips. Sebastian would find her reaction humorous if the circumstances were different. He removes the glass from her grasp, setting it down before looking at her again. She’s a delicate thing, petite and fair, in stark contrast to his looming presence.

“Husbands take what they want,” she whispers as if it is fact.

Sebastian frowns, wondering what other falsehoods she’s been brainwashed into believing.

“Look at me,” he says, gently lifting her chin with the softest touch. Her eyes are wide and glossy and beautiful. “I’m not a monster. I would never take what isn’t offered.”

She sucks in a breath, gaze darting across his face as if she is seeing him for the first time. He’s being honest—if she were to refuse him, he wouldn’t force her—but they both know failing to consummate the marriage will lead to ruin.

“We’re strangers,” she says in the same quiet voice as before.

“Strangers,” Sebastian repeats, pulling his hand away but remaining close as if to test if she will dart away at the first chance. For a moment, he weighs his options. “It doesn’t have to stay that way.”

Her expression shifts, ever so subtly into curiosity as he takes a step back. He keeps his movements slow, not wanting to startle her as he starts to undress, unclasping the heavy belt around his waist. It falls away, along with the heavy fabric of his wedding kilt, a pile on the floor that he soon adds his boots and socks to. Sebastian smirks when he notices his blushing bride’s eyes scanning his physique, fixating on the hem of his linen shirt that rests against his thigh.

“Trust takes time to build, darling,” he croons, watching the quickening rise and fall of her chest. He gestures to her wedding dress. “Let me help you.”

She hesitates before turning around, a visible shiver running through her when he brushes his fingers against the nape of her neck. He toys with the ringlets that have escaped her elaborate updo, plucking free iron pins without a care for where they land in the room. Only when her hair cascades across her shoulders does he continue, tracing the path of her spine down to the fastenings that bind her. He deftly loosens them, listening to her soft exhale when the fabric slips away from her form. Beneath is a simple chemise that does little to hide her femininity.

“T—thank you,” she whispers and Sebastian is struck with the wicked thought of what she’d sound like moaning his name.

He lets out a quiet, mirthless chuckle. “Don’t thank me yet.”

Her skin prickles with goosebumps beneath his touch as he caresses her shoulders. The softness of her is distracting, causing a stirring inside that he did not entirely anticipate. He would be an idiot to not find her attractive, but this is not a fling or passing fancy he can easily bed without thought—this pretty little creature is his wife.

Sebastian continues his gentle massage, thumbs working free a knot of tension between her shoulder blades. It’s a simple but intimate gesture, one that he hopes settles her nerves. He leans in, catching the way her eyes flutter closed and her lips part with a soft sigh. “How does that feel?” he asks, breath fanning across her neck. “Better?”

She barely nods, still trembling as he slides his hands down her arms before resting them on her waist. He feels the curve of her body beneath the chemise, fingers flexing against the cotton before loosening his grip. The heat in his gut grows. Sebastian is well aware of the complexity of the situation and knows perfectly well that this night—their first as husband and wife—will set the tone for the rest of their marriage.

“Tell me what you want,” he encourages, daring to ghost his lips across her skin.

“I—” she falters, breath hitching. “I don’t want…” she trails, and he listens carefully to her tone. She isn’t refusing him. “I don’t know,” she clarifies, turning her head to look at him. “I’ve never—”

Sebastian arches his brow at her confession, though he isn’t shocked by her virginity. Most brides of her upbringing are. What surprises him is the idea that she’s never explored her own body, provoking a devilish curiosity.

“Never?” he repeats in a husky drawl. His fingers twitch at her sides, teasing at what he could teach her. “Well, there’s a first time for everything, darling.”

“And there’s no need to rush,” he murmurs, this time pressing a soft kiss beneath her ear. She shivers and he grins. “We have all night…and every night after that to…explore.”

Sebastian is fully aware of the effect he’s having on her, feeling the way she tenses and yet leans into him, caught between societal expectations and the natural yearnings of her body. But he doesn’t want her to feel obligated—no—he wants her to want him. He makes his offer, “I can show you, if you’d like. Help you discover all the things that bring you pleasure.”

He moves one hand up to cradle her chin again, deciphering the shimmer of her eyes. She lets out a shaky breath. “Y—yes. Please.”

Please.

The corner of his mouth twitches up at her tentative consent.

“Good girl.”

He spins her around to face him, drinking in her flushed cheeks and the way her eyes darken at his words. It’s thrilling, but as hungry as Sebastian is for her, he reminds himself to savor the moment, if only for her sake. He cups her cheek, brushing his thumb across her bottom lip.

“Breathe, love,” he instructs in a whisper before kissing her. It’s soft—she’s soft—and he tugs her closer, hands tightening around her waist just enough to elicit a gasp. He takes the opportunity to lick into her mouth, swallowing the tiny, surprised sound she makes. Her hands find his shoulders, but instead of pushing him away, she melts, head lulling to the side when he breaks away from her lips to kiss down her jawline to her neck.

Sebastian spends some time there, alternating between little nibbles and soft, open-mouth kisses across her clavicle. He pulls the sleeves of her chemise down to expose more of her beautiful skin, capturing her lips again as he slowly lowers the hem some more until the cotton slides off her body completely. His eyes scan over bared flesh, an appreciative groan echoing in his throat as he gently cups her breasts.

“Are you sensitive here?” he asks, thumbs teasing her nipples that pebble beneath his touch. Her only answer is a sharp inhale and a brilliant blush. Sebastian lowers his head to wrap his lips around a taut peak, humming at the taste of her and how she arches, pressing closer. He lavishes her chest with attention, alternating from one breast to the other until her breathing is labored and she lets out a tiny mewl that makes his cock throb.

“I bet,” he muses against her skin, trailing his kisses as he lowers himself to the ground to kneel before her like the goddess she is. He lingers near her hip, one hand sliding from her waist to her thigh. “You’re sensitive here, too.”

Sebastian glances up at his wife through thick lashes, gauging her readiness before he dares to touch her. All he sees is desire, all her attention focused on his next move. He advances, watching as her eyes flutter closed and the most sinful sigh escapes her parted lips. His fingers trace through her sex, opening her to his exploration.

“Do you want me to kiss you here, darling?”

This time, she moans, and Sebastian takes that as a yes. He pulls away, softly chuckling at her little whine as he coaxes her to lie down on the bed. Starting at her ankles, his hands glide up her calves, over her knees, and across the smooth expanse of her inner thighs as he parts her legs, settling himself between them. His lips follow, and he looks up at her again as she trembles in anticipation.

“Tell me,” he breathes, right where she needs him most. “Tell me what you want, Mrs. Sallow.”

She whimpers, and it’s like he’s activated some secret part of her that’s lain dormant until now. Her pupils dilate and she eagerly nods. “Y—your mouth,” she answers, desperate as she furrows her brows in frustration. “Please…”

“Well,” he cheekily replies, suddenly realizing how much fun he will have corrupting her with lessons in carnality. “Since you asked so nicely.”

His mouth finally meets her warmth and the sensation is electrifying. Sebastian savors the taste of her, swirling his tongue against her entrance before focusing on the tiny pearl of nerves that make her cry out in pleasure. She grips the sheets tight as her hips buck up, and he grins at the reaction, one hand steadying her as the other moves to join his feverous ministrations.

“Do you like that?” he asks between laps of his tongue, gradually pushing one finger into her heat. She’s tight, and her body clenches even more at the intrusion, but she’s so wet and so ready for him that the digit slides in with little resistance. Sebastian groans, suckling on her clit as he withdraws before pushing in again, each time a little deeper until she is moaning with every labored breath. He adds a second finger, curling them until he finds the sweet spot that makes her back arch and thighs quiver.

“Yes,” she moans, and it’s so enthusiastic that Sebastian grinds his hips against the mattress to provide himself some temporary relief. He’s hard, straining almost painfully as he imagines himself sheathed inside her, how she’ll look with her legs wrapped around his waist, neck tossed back in ecstasy.

He steadily increases the pressure, finding a rhythm that has her writhing and keening for release. And then she tenses, her core clamping and fluttering around his fingers as her body trembles. Sebastian’s chest swells with pride, that dark, possessive thrill coursing through him again as she spirals.

“There you go, love.” His voice is ragged as he eases her through her first climax.

It won’t be her last.

Sebastian slowly leans back on his heels to take in the sight of her, flushed and wild-eyed, struggling to catch her breath as her eyes fixate on him. He peels off his linen shirt, allowing her a moment to ogle his naked body, smirking when her gaze continues to linger on his cock.

“Do you want more?”

“Yes,” she answers before he can compel her to.

Sebastian nods, settling back between her thighs, his hands sliding up to grip the back of her knees as he spreads her a little wider, exposing her slick center to his gaze. He’s momentarily transfixed, fighting back the urge to plunge forth and ravage her like a man starved. With one hand guiding his length, he positions himself at her entrance, both sucking in a breath as he slowly, slowly pushes in.

“Fuck,” he breathes, repeating the curse over and over as he watches her body swallow him, the tight, velvet heat of her threatening to unravel him before he can even start. “Just relax,” he manages to say, half for himself as he clenches his jaw. “Breathe for me, love.”

He gives her time to adjust to the fullness, even as his resolve wavers at the heavenly sensation. Only when he sees her expression soften does he move, shallow thrusts that gradually deepen, hands bracing her thighs as he watches his cock disappear inside her over and over. Her tiny whimpers morph into heady moans, and he switches his focus to her face.

“You take me so well, darling,” he praises, near-delirious with the pleasure coursing through his veins. “I knew you’d be perfect.”

Sebastian barely manages not to lose himself, rolling his hips in a steady cadence that promises them both an exquisite end. He wants—needs—to feel her come around him, come with him. The sounds she makes tell him she’s climbing that precipice once more, on the verge of another shattering orgasm.

“That’s it,” he moans, leaning over her as he braces his weight on one arm, his other hand sliding beneath her to tilt her hips. The new angle produces a new kind of friction that he chases, his body colliding with hers in urgent, needy thrusts. “I’ve got you, just—fuck—come with me.”

And she does, brilliantly so, a broken cry that he swallows with a devouring kiss. Sebastian follows her over the edge, snapping his hips forward one last time as he spills himself deep, a shudder running through his entire body. The tremors take a long time to subside, but he eventually slumps, barely managing to keep his body from crushing hers as he collapses against the mattress. In the post-coital haze, he glances over to find his wife with a similar, blissed-out expression.

“Are we still strangers?” he jokes, rolling to encircle his arms around her limp form. He smiles, heartbeat fluttering as she softly giggles. Sebastian thinks he likes that sound the most.

“No,” she replies, though it’s obvious that she’s still bashful despite—or because of—their newfound intimacy. “Acquaintances, perhaps.”

Sebastian laughs, and the dangerous thought that he could fall in love with this woman crosses his mind. Instead of allowing the idea to take root, he closes the distance between them to kiss her, languid and unhurried.

“In that case,” he starts. “I should tell you about all the wicked things I want to do to you,” he murmurs against her lips, grinning when she moans. “Tell me, wife,” he says. “Do you want me to worship your body?”

She doesn’t hesitate. “Yes, please.”

[justlemmeadoreyou]

Serendipity*

Summary-Harry meets you at the most unexpected of places, and helps you like a knight in a wedding suit. It all starts at your best friend's wedding, where you find yourself in a predicament without an escort. As panic sets in, Harry appears, sent by the groom's brother to fill in as your last-minute companion. From that moment, a serendipitous connection begins to bloom between you both.

Words: 5k

Warnings: LOVE! SO MUCH LOVE AND SWEETNESS AND SOFTNESS IN THIS ONE! BUT ALSO-kissing, bathing together, p in v sex, a bit of cursing, loads of fluff.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

You stood in the bridal suite, your best friend Amelia bustling around in her stunning wedding gown. The room was a whirlwind of emotions—excitement, joy, and a hint of nervousness. It was her big day, and you couldn't have been happier for her.

Months of planning had led to this moment, and you had been Ame’s right-hand woman every step of the way. The dress, the flowers, the decorations—you had been there for it all. Today was the culmination of her dreams, and you were thrilled to witness her marry the love of her life.

As the time for the ceremony approached, you could feel your heart beating faster. You had the honor of being her maid of honor, and you couldn't wait to stand by her side as she walked down the aisle. But there was one small hiccup—the absence of your escort.

Panic set in as you looked around the room, realizing that you were missing the crucial piece of the bridal party puzzle. "Where's my escort?" you asked, your voice betraying the tension building inside you.

Ames looked at you with concern. "What do you mean? Did something happen to your partner? He was supposed to be here long ago–"

Your mind raced, trying to figure out a solution. The best man was missing. Great. Now, you were left without a partner, the groom was left without the best man, and the thought of walking down the aisle alone made your stomach churn.

You fiddled with your fingers, heart throbbing in your chest as your mind reeled. This was a disaster. So many people couldn’t make it–most of them were supposed to be there for backup if anything bad happened and now, along with them,–your escort was missing too. You were beginning to think if you were the bad luck here.

“I’ll see if someone else is willing, the guests are already out there and I’ll look like a moron but I will–” you rambled, sweat forming on your forehead. This was a bad habit of yours. Panicking so much that you wore yourself down, and if you didn’t breathe and relax, your makeup and hair would be ruined and–

Just as you were about to leave the room in a haste, the door knocked. You all looked at each other with curious gazes, oblivious to who it was.

“Who is that? All of us are here and maybe it’s your dad–” 

You stood by the door, taking a deep breath, preparing yourself to explain it all in case they ask what is taking so long.

But, as you opened the door, you opened it slightly, just in case it was the groom, Eddie.

To your surprise, it was someone else–someone you haven't met before. He was sharply dressed, suit and all, piercing green eyes looking straight into yours.

“I’m sorry-I don’t know you” you asked, and he smiled.

“I’m Harry. I’m a friend of Amelia’s brother. Your escort wasn’t here and Eddie was freaking out, so he sent me here”

You searched his eyes, and they were so calm, so soft. Your heartbeat began to steady, and you walked out of the door, closing it shut, even though it was time.

“You’re sure you won’t mind? Or you're not taken by someone else?”

He chuckled, a sound that you know you will be longing to hear once again. 

“No-I’m not taken by someone else. That’s why I came here. To help you in case you need it. What’s your good name?”

You were lost in the way his lips moved as he talked, completely phasing out and not listening to a word he said. God, he was so pretty.

“Hello?” he asked once again, completely aware of how your gaze was fixated on him. He couldn’t lie, he knew he looked irresistible. But the way you were ogling him in the time of crisis–it was something he hadn’t seen before.

“Hello” he said again, waving his hand over your face to obstruct your view, and that’s what broke your gaze. You blinked rapidly, mumbling “Sorry” before asking him what he said.

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Y/n. But–what about the best man?”

“I am the best man. It was supposed to be Archie, I know. But this wedding was a last minute plan and he’s drunk as hell right now in Vegas.”

“Oh God. I told them not to get married one week after the proposal. But who would listen to me? I’m just the maid of honor after all. I swear if anything, anything happens, I will–” You were stopped by him, as he said,  “Y/n. The wedding”

“Yeah. sorry”

You pulled the door back open, Ames coming out, and Harry fawned over how perfect she looked. He was like a brother to her, and you never met this gorgeous, gorgeous man till now. How?

Her father came soon, ready to walk her down the aisle.

You look at her one last time, her face glowing and so, so pretty. Her hair, the dress, the veil–it’s all so perfect.

“Let’s walk you down the aisle.”

>>>

As you made your way down the aisle, all eyes were on you and Harry. You couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious, but Harry's hand on your arm gave you the confidence to keep walking with your head held high.

You could see Amelia and her soon-to-be husband at the end of the aisle, both looking nervous and excited. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of them, knowing how much they loved each other. The priest stood behind them , ready to commence the wedding.

As you reached the altar, Harry stepped aside and you took your place next to Amelia. The ceremony began and you couldn't help but feel emotional as you watched your best friend exchange vows with the love of her life. The rings were exchanged, and kisses and promises were made. It was the perfect wedding that she had planned, and you were so glad you would make it happen for her in such short notice.

During the reception, Harry proved to be the perfect replacement for the missing best man. He made everyone laugh with his witty jokes and kept the party going with his dance moves. After the dance of the bride and groom, everyone was slow dancing–even your father and mother, and they looked so cute together.

You were sitting by one of the tables, sipping water and looking at them all.

Harry appeared beside you, letting you finish up your water, before looking down at you, offering you his hand, “Can I have a dance?” he asked.

You smiled, wiping some of the drops from your lips carefully, and nodding happily.

“I would love to dance with you, Harry”

You held his hand and got up, letting him lead you to the dance floor. Once you stood in front of each other, you instinctively placed your arm on his shoulder, his coming to rest on your waist. You both held each other’s hands then–intertwining your fingers, and they fit so perfectly.

As the music started to play, you could feel Harry’s body moving in sync with yours. He led you gracefully around the dance floor, his steps confident and smooth. 

You couldn’t help but admire his movements, the way he effortlessly glided across the floor.

“You’re a fantastic dancer, Y/N” Harry whispered in your ear, making you blush at the praise.

 “Thank you, but I think you’re the one making me look good,” you replied, teasingly. He chuckled, spinning you around before pulling you back into his arms. Your chests collided, and you looked up at him, getting lost in his piercing green eyes. 

“You know, I could get used to dancing with you like this” Harry said, his voice low and husky, his words meant for your ears only. You couldn’t resist the urge to press your body closer to his, feeling the heat radiating between the two of you. 

“I could too” you breathed out, feeling your heart flutter at the intense gaze he was giving you. The two of you continued to dance, your bodies moving fluidly together as if you were one. You could feel the music pulsing through your veins, heightening every touch and every movement. 

As the song came to an end, Harry pulled you into a gentle embrace, his hand caressing your back soothingly. 

“That was amazing, Y/N” he said, his voice full of admiration. 

“I couldn’t agree more, '' you replied, a smile spreading across your face, and a blush spread across your cheeks. 

As the night went on, you and Harry found ourselves lost in each other's company. You talked about everything and anything, laughing and sharing stories. You found yourself enjoying his company more and more as the night went on. He was charming, funny, and easy to talk to. You couldn't believe you had just met him today.

But as the night came to an end, it was time for the bride and groom to leave. You both rushed back to the reception, saying your goodbyes to them before they left.

But before, it was time for her to toss the bouquet.

Everyone cheered as she came into view, holding the bouquet as all the single girls gathered behind her, ready to catch it and be the next to marry. You didn’t have a boyfriend, but you wanted to be there for her.

"Alright, here goes nothing!" Amelia exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement.

As the bouquet soared through the air, you watched in amazement, hardly daring to believe her luck. In a surreal moment, the bouquet seemed to be heading directly towards you, almost as if guided by fate itself. Without even consciously trying, your hands instinctively reached out, and to your astonishment, you felt the soft petals and stems of the bouquet in your grasp.

Gasps of surprise echoed around the room as you stood there, stunned, clutching the bouquet tightly to your chest. You quickly glanced around, wide-eyed, as the other girls congratulated you with genuine smiles, though perhaps tinged with a hint of envy.

Amelia, the radiant bride, beamed at you, her eyes shining with joy. "Looks like someone's next in line for love!" she teased, her voice filled with excitement.

You couldn't help but laugh, feeling a rush of happiness and disbelief wash over you. "I-I can't believe it! And I don’t even have a boyfriend" you stammered, voice shaky and still in shock from the unexpected turn of events.

Soon, it was time for them to leave, and as Ames and Eddie said their goodbyes, kissing and laughing as they sat in the car, ready to leave.

You hugged her for one last time, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. Pulling back, he pulled her back, and they both got in the car, driving away.

It was all like a dream. A perfect dream that had come true.

You were happy, smiling as you watched their car disappear into the darkness, and it was after a while that you realized you had lost harry.

Panic started to set in as you searched every corner of the reception hall, but Harry was nowhere to be found. You asked around, but no one had seen him. Just as you were about to give up and accept that you had lost him, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

Turning around, you saw Harry standing there with a sheepish smile on his face. “Sorry, I got lost in the crowd, and then some girl came to talk to me, and I think she was trying to get my number, but I shrugged her off. I couldn't leave without saying goodbye to you,” he said, his eyes full of sincerity.

Relief flooded through you as he pulled you into a tight hug. “I couldn't leave without saying goodbye to you either,” you replied, hugging him back just as tightly. It was instinct, and none of you cared that you had hugged.

Pulling back, you stared into each other’s eyes for a moment too long. You wanted to say something, wanted to ask him if he was taken, but you were scared.

He definitely was taken. A charming British man who looked so good, made you laugh and was so perfect.

So, you decided to shrug it off, the feeling of wanting to hold him once again, pulling at the strings of your heart. He was perfect, so perfect. And so dreamy.

“So–you shrugged off a girl?” you asked, trying to lighten the mood, and to dissipate the thick tension in the air between you two.

“Oh–yeah” he chuckled, one which you were maybe hearing for the last time.

“Yeah, so was being a bit touchy, and I was uncomfortable, so I told her. And–then she asked for my number, so-”

“So?”

“I said no”

“Because–you’re seeing someone? Because if you’re not, that was kinda stupid–I think. Weddings are real meet-cutes.” you asked, raising your eyebrows at him.

“No–uh, um, I’m not seeing someone, it’s just–I didn’t want her number. I–I wanted yours.”

The words hit you like a brick wall. You were not expecting him to say that. The girl who approached him was probably pretty, and definitely prettier than you. Then why did he say no to her, and yes to you?

“Me–cool cool cool cool cool” you stammered, and looked down, blushing and having no idea what to say next.

He sensed your dilemma, and held your hand in his.

“Y/n–please, look at me”

But you couldn’t bring yourself to. He was so pretty and so perfect and here he was, standing in front of you, asking for your number after rejecting someone else.

And you knew, if you looked up, you would definitely fall in love with him.

Harry waited for you to look up at him, and when you didn’t, he lifted his right hand, holding your chin softly and lifting your face up, making you look into his eyes.

And it was over for you. You fell for him.

“Y/n–I really like you. And what we shared today–the dance, the talks, the laughs–it was so perfect. You’re so perfect. And I didn’t talk to that girl or dance or laugh with her. I did all that with you. And–I think I’ve fallen for you”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you choked out a laugh. It was so unexpected, but it felt like it was meant to be. His hand was in yours, and he was holding it with so much promise. And on your other hand, was the bouquet. A promise. 

“Y/n–will you go on a date with me?” he asked, and you nodded immediately, wiping a stray tear that had fallen on your cheeks. You immediately pulled him in for a hug, holding him close tightly, never wanting to let go.

>>>

Your first date was a week later.

Harry called you to his house, and he had texted you his address. He didn’t say what he had planned for tonight. He wanted it to be a surprise, and you knew it would be beautiful.

As you arrived at Harry's house, your heart fluttered with anticipation. You had no idea what he had planned for tonight, but you knew it would be something special, just like him. Stepping out of your car, you made your way to his front door, excitement bubbling inside you.

Harry greeted you with a warm smile, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he led you inside. "I'm so glad you're here," he said, taking your hand in his. "I've got something amazing planned for us tonight."

You couldn't help but smile back, feeling a rush of excitement coursing through your veins. "I can't wait to see what you've come up with," you replied, your heart pounding with anticipation.

After a quick drive, you arrived at a secluded spot far from the city lights, where the stars shone brightly overhead. The air was crisp and cool, and the sound of laughter and music filled the night.

"What is this place?" you asked, gazing around in wonder at the vibrant scene before you.

Harry grinned, his eyes dancing with excitement. "It's a lantern festival," he explained, looking so happy. "I thought it would be the perfect setting for our first date."

You felt a surge of delight at the sight of the colorful lanterns lighting up the night sky. "It's incredible," you exclaimed, taking in the festive atmosphere around you.

As you wandered through the festival, hand in hand with Harry, you felt a sense of peace and contentment wash over you. Everywhere you looked, couples and families were gathered together, laughing and enjoying each other's company.

"We should release a lantern," Harry suggested, his eyes shining with excitement. "But what should we write on it?"

You paused for a moment, pondering the question. And then, a smile spreads across your face as an idea forms in your mind. "How about our initials?" you suggested, squeezing Harry's hand gently.

He smiled back at you, his eyes soft with affection. "I love that idea," he replied, pulling you close for a hug.

Together, you made your way to the lantern station, where a kind elderly man handed you a lantern and a marker. 

“This is so beautiful, Harry. Thank you for this” you thanked him, as he, with trembling hands, wrote your initials on the surface of the lantern. He smiled at you, finishing it up, and taking your hand once again, ready to light it up and set it afloat.

You reached the top of the hill, heart pounding in your chest as you stopped. He held the lantern, and you carefully lit the matchstick, lighting the tiny wick under it on fire.

With Harry by your side, you watched as the lantern soared gracefully into the air, its soft glow illuminating the darkness around you.

After that, there was a second date. And then a third, after which, you both started dating.

It was at dinner at a restaurant, and he had specifically naked you to dress up for it. You knew he was going to ask you to be his girlfriend. But that didn’t help calm your nerves.

You had worn a red dress, one that you had bought a long time ago. It still fits you well, and you couldn’t wait for Harry to see you in this. 

As you stepped into the restaurant, your heart raced with anticipation. The soft glow of candlelight danced across the elegant dining room, casting a warm and intimate atmosphere.

Harry's eyes lit up as he saw you, dressed in the red dress you had carefully chosen for this occasion. "Wow," he breathed, his gaze lingering on you, for a moment too long. That was exactly what you had wished when you put it on.

 "You look absolutely stunning." he complimented, finally lifting his gaze from the dress and bringing it to your face.

A blush crept onto your cheeks as you took in his handsome appearance as well, dressed in a sharp suit that accentuated his strong features. "Thank you," you replied, smiling shyly. "You don't look too bad yourself."

As you settled into your seats, the air crackled with anticipation. Harry reached across the table, taking your hand in his. "I wanted tonight to be special," he began, his voice soft and earnest. "There's something I've been wanting to ask you."

Your heart skipped a beat as you met his gaze, sensing the gravity of his words. "What is it?" you asked, barely able to contain your excitement.

Harry took a deep breath, his eyes shining with emotion. "I've enjoyed every moment we've spent together, and ‘m really happy when I’m with you," he confessed. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

"Yes, Harry, yes!" you exclaimed, throwing your arms around him in a tight embrace.

He pulled you close, his lips finding yours in a tender kiss that sent sparks flying. The world fell away as you melted into each other, lost in the sweetness of the moment.

After dinner, you made your way back to Harry's place, the anticipation building with each step. As you entered his apartment, the air hummed with electricity, charged with the promise of what was to come.

You kissed each other, hands pulling at each other’s clothes and pulling them off. You reached the bedroom, laughing and giggling,and locking the door.

You stood in front of Harry, your hands running down his chest, you couldn't help but admire the muscles that rippled beneath his skin. His hands traced the curves of your body, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “You're so beautiful,” he whispered, his gaze filled with adoration.

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words, a shy smile forming on your lips. “And you're so handsome,” you replied, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him in for a passionate kiss.

His lips were soft and warm against yours, moving in perfect sync as your tongues danced together. You could feel the heat building between your bodies, the need for each other growing with each passing moment.

As you broke apart, gasping for air, Harry's hands moved down to your hips, pulling you closer to him. “I want you,” he whispered, his voice husky with desire.

You nodded, your own need for him evident in the way your body pressed against his. He led you to the bedroom, your hands never leaving each other's bodies. As you entered the room, the soft glow of candles greeted you, casting a warm light on the bed.

Harry gently pushed you down onto the soft sheets, his lips trailing down your neck as he peppered kisses along your skin. “You're so fucking perfect,” he murmured, his hands caressing every inch of your body.

You moaned at his touch, the sensations overwhelming you. His lips moved down to your chest, his tongue flicking over your nipple before sucking it gently into his mouth. Your back arched off the bed, your fingers tangling in his hair as you let out a soft moan.

He moved lower, his lips leaving a trail of fire down your stomach. Your breath hitched as he reached your core, his tongue tracing circles around your clit. You let out a low moan, your hips moving in rhythm with his mouth.

“Harry,” you gasped, your fingers gripping the sheets as he continued to pleasure you. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with desire as he added a finger inside you, making you cry out in pleasure. His finger was moving so well, hitting all the right spots. 

You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body trembling with need. “I'm going to come,” you moaned, your fingers tightening in his hair.

As you reached your peak, Harry's lips never leaving your body, you let out a cry of pleasure, your body shaking with ecstasy. He crawled back up to you, his lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss, his hand moving to pleasure you once again.

As he entered you, your bodies moved together in perfect harmony, the pleasure coursing through every inch of your being. Your moans filled the room, mixing with Harry's as your bodies moved as one.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he approached his own climax.

“I love you too,” you replied, your voice filled with emotion as you reached your peak together, your bodies trembling with pleasure.

You lay in each other’s arms, breathing ragged, but bodies satisfied and contented. He pulled you close, kissing your forehead and cheeks, making you feel so pretty.

“We should clean up. Have a bath with me?” he asked after a moment or so, and you nodded. He pulled you close, but your legs were like jello, so he lifted you up like a koala, and carried you to the bathroom, making you sit on the toilet seat in case you wanted to pee, and went to get the shower ready.

You both cleaned each other. Blowing bubbles and suds, throwing water at each other, gigging, and so happy. 

You threw some water at him, and a bit of soap got in his eyes. You panicked, immediately running the tap again and helping him wash it.

“Oh fuck—I’m sorry, Harry–I dodn’t mean to, I was just playing, are you alright?”

He started giggling, throwing his arms at his chest and laughing at you like you were a clown.

“Ahhh” you yelled, throwing water at him again, and yelling at him for making you scared. He pulled you close once again, kissing your mouth as you lay in there for what felt like hours.

>>>

The next few months of your relationship were a blur, each moment with Harry feeling like a dream come true. You both were incredibly compatible, sharing laughter, adventures, and countless memories together. But just as your love was blossoming, a job opportunity arose for Harry – one that would take him to another state for a year.

At first, the news felt like a punch to the gut. The thought of being apart from Harry filled you with an overwhelming sense of sadness and uncertainty. But as you talked it over with him, you realized that this was an opportunity he couldn't pass up. It was a chance for him to advance in his career, to chase his dreams, and you couldn't be prouder of him.

So, you made a promise to each other – to make the most of the time you had left together, to cherish every moment, and to stay connected no matter the distance. As the days passed, you cherished each date, each kiss, and each shared laugh as if it were your last.

And when the day finally came for Harry to leave, it was bittersweet. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you held him tight, unwilling to let go. But as you looked into his eyes, you saw nothing but love and determination.

"I'll be back before you know it," he promised, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "And I'll call you every chance I get, I promise."

With a heavy heart, you watched him drive away, the distance between you growing with each passing mile. But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, you stayed connected through phone calls, texts, and video chats.

And despite the distance, your love only grew stronger. You supported each other through the challenges, celebrated each other's successes, and counted down the days until you could be together again.

>>>

The days apart seemed to stretch on endlessly, each one filled with a longing that seemed to pierce through the very fabric of your being. You counted down the hours, the minutes, the seconds until you would once again be reunited with Harry, your heart aching with the absence of his presence.

But even in the midst of the pain, you held onto the memories of your time together, each one a beacon of light in the darkness of your separation. You replayed the moments you had shared in your mind, savoring the warmth of his touch, the sound of his laughter, the depth of his love.

And then, at long last, the day arrived. You stood at the airport, your heart pounding in your chest as you scanned the crowd for any sign of Harry. And then, there he was, striding towards you with that familiar smile that melted your heart.

You ran into his arms, tears of joy streaming down your face as you held him close, unable to believe that he was finally here, with you, where he belonged.

And then, in a moment that felt like something out of a fairytale, Harry got down on one knee, his eyes shining with love as he held out a small velvet box.

"Y/N," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "I never want to spend another day apart from you. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?"

Your heart swelled with love as you nodded, tears of happiness blurring your vision. Harry slipped the ring onto your finger, a perfect fit, just like the two of you.

And as you embraced, you knew that this was the moment you had been waiting for. This was the moment that made all the distance and all the struggles worth it. You were here, in each other's arms, and nothing else mattered.

"I promise to always love you," Harry whispered, his voice barely above a whisper. "To support you, to stand by your side no matter what."

"I promise to make every day with you an adventure," he continued, his eyes locked on yours. "To cherish and adore you for all eternity."

And as he leaned in to kiss you, you knew that this was just the beginning of your magical love story. A story that had been tested by distance and time, but had only grown stronger because of it.

And as you held each other close, you couldn't help but smile, knowing that you had found your serendipity – a love that was unexpected, yet destined, a love that would guide you through every twist and turn of life's journey, forever and always. You never knew that you had found the love of your life at that wedding, the person who was your last-minute escort would be the one you would marry one day, and love and cherish forever.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

i love you all 💌tell me if you like this! please reblog or comment if you like, it makes my heart happy :)

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[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

Exhibitionism with Aegon

Part of Kinktober 2024

Aegon knows that you're nervous about the bedding ceremony. Perhaps that's why he's doing this. Or maybe it's to make those watching you - several of his family members included - uncomfortable enough that they regret enforcing a public bedding. Though most likely, he's just doing this because it's Aegon.

Whatever the reason, when he proudly strides into your new marital chamber, he is already entirely naked and more than ready to bed you. Not only that, he has oiled his entire body.

Several of the observers groan and look away as Aegon approaches you, his arms stretched wide as he moves to embrace you, ruining your nightgown with oil stains. He doesn't wait long until his mouth is upon yours, kissing you thoroughly and sloppily.

You can't help but wonder if this was how he kissed the many other women you know he's lain with. The thought pulls you away from the kiss.

"Don't be scared," Aegon whispers against your lips. "I'm going to make you feel so good that they won't matter. Right?" He doesn't look away until you smile and nod. "Good girl, go sit on the bed."

When you pull back the sheer curtains surrounding the bed, you find it covered in rose petals of every color, and you can't hold back your laughter. Only Aegon could make you laugh in these circumstances.

But then, he begins to tear the curtains off the bed, tearing away the one protection you had against the prying eyes of the Small Council and Aegon's family.

"What is the meaning of this, Aegon?" Otto Hightower asks. He has the courtesy to not leer at you in your thin nightgown, unlike the Lords Strong and Wylde.

"Well, you wanted to watch, did you not? I'm simply giving you a better view." He smirks as he turns back to the bed, and you swear he's clenching to make his buttocks seem firmer.

His brother, Aemond, walks out without a word.

Aegon leaps on the bed, sending half the rose petals to the floor. before wrapping his hands around your waist and nosing at your neck. "You don't have to take off your nightgown if you do not want to, sweet girl," he whispers. "But I want them to see my arse." When you ask why, he meets your gaze, and his irreverence fades for just a moment. "They wanted a show, so I'm giving them one. Besides, I'm positive one or two of them have always wanted a look at my cock."

You don't ask him which ones. That is a mystery you are more than happy to never solve.

"Are you ready?" he asks. You aren't entirely sure you are, but you nod anyway. Immediately, Aegon raises himself onto his knees, angling to ensure that the assembled audience has a clear view on his front as he begins to stroke his cock, throwing back his head in exaggerated pleasure as he moans loudly and whorishly.

His mother leaves the room, her hand held to her face to block her view of her shameless son.

"Fuck," Aegon groans. "I can't wait any longer." He skillfully re-angles both himself and you so that the observers now have a perfect view of his arse as he lifts you nightgown just enough for him to duck inside and lavish your core with his lips and tongue.

Someone in the crowd grumbles, but you don't care, not when Aegon is making you feel so good. For a moment, you are glad of his history in brothels, if it is why he has such skill at this. He easily brings you to release twice before he extracts himself from beneath your gown.

He is desperate enough to forget any other schemes to irritate your observers before sliding his cock inside you, and you aren't certain that the moan you let out is wholly genuine or if Aegon has somehow looped you in to his showmanship.

It is likely the latter, for as he moves within you faster and faster, you both grow in volume, until you are sure that even the guards at the Gate of the Gods can hear you as you peak once more.

And when Aegon releases inside you, you are sure he could be heard across the Narrow Sea as he shouted, "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Then, you fall silent save for your panting breaths. "Are you well?" Aegon asks. All you can do is nod. "Good, I'll be right back, my girl."

He climbs off of you, standing from the bed and approaching the remaining audience. "Well, gentlemen, I think you'll find all the evidence you require right here!" He gestures dramatically to his cock, wet with both your releases and your maiden's blood.

"... Thank you, my prince," Grand Maester Orwyle stutters. "Please, accept my congratulations on your marriage." He hurries out of the room with a haste you've never seen from any Maester.

Aegon turns to Otto Hightower. "Well, are you satisfied?"

The Hand does not answer, he simply looks at those remaining and gestures to the door. "Let us leave the new couple to each other."

With a smirk, Aegon adds, "Quickly please, you were only promised the first fuck of the night, and I have plans for many more.

[daisybianca]

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x femalereader

summary: Lewis proposes in a special ceremony—and it’s dirty

warnings: mentions of sexual activities, slight jealousy

(a/n): this is written from Lewis’ pov cuz I love my man obsessed

I MIGHT BE the filthiest person in her life right now. The dirtiest one, with the most disgusting thoughts about her. Do I care, though?

Absolutely not.

Will I let another man touch her?

Hah. Funny enough.

Because when this night is over, a ring will be circled around the fair flesh of her finger. And my initial will be curved into it. I’m sure of it.

My fiancé soon-to-be has chosen a red, long dress that hugs her curved body for tonight’s ceremony. I can see my parents eye her across the ballroom.

Our names are written on tonight’s sky. Mine and hers. The night is ours. And it’ll not be over until we say so.

Y/N appears at the very top of the stairs and her father rushes by her side, helping her to walk towards me. Reaching for her hand as soon as she reached the last step, the crowd ceases clapping.

I take her hand in mine. It fits perfectly, as always. She fits perfectly. Her body against mine. Her smart brain along with mine. Her eyes on mine.

Everything is perfect because she is a part of it.

“Lewis…” She approaches me and I can detect a particular glimpse of something in her beautiful eyes.

I curl my lips in a smile. “You’re the most beautiful woman in this room.” I say. I’m positive that everyone’s eyes and ears are focused on this moment. On us. “Probably in the entire world.”

She manages a smile, even though I can tell she’s nervous. About a hundred or so people have been gathered by me and her father to celebrate this day.

Three years ago, when the date was the same as it is this day, I met her.

Three years later, I’m marking her as mine. Officially, at least. Because I made sure she knew—and everyone else around us—she’s mind since the very first moment.

“Don’t be nervous, baby,” I push her towards me gently and cup her reddened cheeks with my hands.

Across my thumb, her initial is written on the surface with bold ink.

My hands are hers to use. Hers to lick. Hers to fuck. I wanted her to know that.

I turn around and smile at the guests. Toto gives me a reassuring father as he drinks a sip from his wine next to my father.

“Let’s dance,” I brush my lips across her ear, starting to make our way to the centre of the room.

“Lewis, you know I can’t dance in these shoes.” She lifts her right leg just a few inches and waves her dress so I can take a glimpse of her white heels.

I make sure to keep my tone quiet. “Y/N, I’ve seen you pole-dancing in stripper-heels.”

Her face turns into a darker shade of red. Her hands feels cold. Sweaty.

I don’t want her to fucking feel like that on a day as special as this one.

She has to calm down. And I’m the one obligated to make her do it.

I brush her long hair and press pecks on her temple, cheeks, lips… I stop on the neck because it’s a soft spot for me. Can’t let myself lose control in front of all my relatives, friends and coworkers. It’d be such a pity to grab her and take her to the closest room and ruin such an event.

I being a glass of red whine for her knowing how much she adores it. My hand never leaves her and I can tell that as the minutes pass, her breathing feels steadier.

One hour goes by.

Two.

It’s ten past something and about time I…

“Ladies and gentlemen.” I let y/n’s hand and climb on the stage, rolling the sleeves of my white shirt as I do so. “Thank you for attending tonight’s ceremony, to begin with. It is a special day for us and we are very pleased to share such a great moment with the people we love.”

The crowd above the stage claps, I can even take a glimpse of my dog, Roscoe, swirling around in Ricciardo’s embrace… everyone is overwhelmed and that brings a smile to my lips. But nothing compares to the burning sensation in my chest.

I don’t know what it is. But I know it’s a good feeling. I also got it the first time I met y/n. Or when I asked her out. Or when we first kissed or made love.

“I would like to invite my beautiful woman, y/n…” I control myself not to exclaim “fiancé” or “wife” instead of “woman”. I’m not hesitant to go on. “…on this stage with me.”

The people go thunderous and I help y/n to walk the few steps on the stage.

We arrive at the centre of the stage and the music stops.

All the lights on us. Everyone’s eyes.

It feels magical.

I look up and find the most beautiful pair of eyes I’ve ever seen already fixed on me. She’s smiling. It’s contagious so I grin as well. “Y/n…” I start but a voice interrupts my words.

“Go on one knee!” I identify Toyo’s voice in the first row as I reach for the velvet box in my pocket.

“On one knee!” Yells my father and then the guests go crazy.

I turn to my woman and smile. “Don’t ask me to go on one knee.” I say.

“As long as you don’t ask me to get on two knees.” She replies in a dirty voice, leaning towards me.”

“Baby, I want you in all for.”

She smiles again but no one hears our conversation. They still yell for me to propose on one knee.

Fuck. I’ll have to do this.

I grab the box tightly in my hand and do as asked. I get on my knees.

In front of my woman. The woman of my dreams.

I’ve been on my knees in front of y/n countless times before, but for educational purposes only. Nothing like this.

I raise my eyes. She’s crying.

I hold onto her hand. “Y/n…” I start. “Please make me the happiest man in the entire universe and accept this proposal.” I think my heart is going to explode. “Will you please marry me?”

The crowd erupts in a chaos of applause and I find myself trapped in her eyes. I expect her to say the word first, but she doesn’t.

She melts into my hands and buries her small face in my neck.

This has to be the most beautiful moment of my entire existence.

She’s crying and I think I am too honestly. “Yes, yes, yes! A million times yes, Lewis!” She almost creams and between tears, I grab her face and unite our temples. I apply a kiss on her mouth. It’s gently at first but then I can see her craving for more.

When I let her lips to catch my breath (I actually remembered that we are not alone, but in a room with our closest people and if she went on I would without hesitation forget their existence) I look into her eyes. I grab her delicate hand and take the ring out of the box.

It fits perfectly on her finger.

I look at her again and murmur, “Perfectly fitted. Just for you, baby. Just for my wife.”

••••••••••

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Lucifer Morningstar with Violet Evergarden!reader scenario in honor of Valentine’s Day

warning: aged up!reader [middle to late twenties], language, ooc, one-sided!Alastor x reader, possible spoilers from the first season of the 2024 show.

Hey guys, welcome to another Hazbin Hotel collaboration with @vikkirosko, starring Charlie's own goofy, duck-obsessed father, the King of Hell! Special thanks to @ladydoe8, and @illuminaresblog for their feedback so that I could write this fic in a timely manner before things got busy in the real world for me!

Just so everyone knows, the outfit depicted here is Jean’s ceremonial outfit from the game Genshin Impact, idea was courtesy of @illuminaresblog.

So with that being said, sit back, relax, and let's see what our short king is up to ~!

Reblog to support content creators! ❤️

Lucifer is someone who believes in second chances now. 

Charlie had made something that had been impossible for the last ten thousand years possible, and he wanted to support her in any way he could. Thanks to him being an amazing, resourceful father they were able to rebuild the hotel in less than four months, and Alastor didn’t show up until they were finished. Ha! Take that, asshole! 

But what has made him the happiest he has felt in a long time is the opportunity to be close to his daughter again. He was not going to ruin it by being a coward and not speak to her unless it was convenient for him. She is more precious than anything or anyone in Hell. 

Don’t get him wrong, he is very happy that his little devil found someone that made her happy, but it was kinda awkward to see them being….intimate. That’s at least one other valid reason why he’s been coming to the greenhouse more often than isolating himself away in his living space of the hotel. It wasn’t healthy, and he couldn’t keep hiding himself from Hell forever after fighting Adam in the war. And why the greenhouse instead of the lobby bar, the rooftop balcony, or the parlor? Well, you were there. The hotel’s stoic groundskeeper, and one of the people who had been supportive of Charlie’s dream when he wasn’t around. 

You always knew the right words to say to her without sounding like a jerk. 

You would help out with creating group exercises, though some of your ideas were a little extreme.

 If someone needed some assistance with work around the hotel, you were there in the blink of an eye ready to help. 

You had fought against the exorcists to protect everyone, even at the cost of losing your prosthetic arms.  

You were a lot of things that he wasn’t. And he was a tiny bit jealous about it, even when you had never intended to make him, the King of Hell, jealous. That job was exclusively reserved for the Radio Demon. 

 He did think you would look a lot cuter if you smiled more often, and he has said this to you one afternoon as he sat on a wooden bench, watching you carefully remove the weeds from the flower beds. In that moment he thought he had fucked up. The words that spilled out of his mouth had pissed you off so much that you were quiet and did not even look at him over your shoulder. He felt his apple red cheeks burn with embarrassment as he stammered out an apology, trying to make amends when your calm voice broke through the awkward silence. 

You weren’t bothered by what he said. He was stating a fact that you’ve heard many times when you were alive. You explained to him that it was…difficult to express yourself for a long time. And in Hell, you couldn’t wear your emotions on your sleeve. It made you a target. To demonstrate your point, you slapped your cheeks and pulled the corners of your mouth upwards to create a smile, albeit a forced one. 

Lucifer had a good laugh that day, and the frazzled thoughts that ran rampant in his mind came to halt. You were a funny sinner. And definitely strange, but hey, so is he! Kind of. Okay, he definitely is, but who isn’t a little odd down here?

When he realized that you weren’t easily offended like the others, conversations between the two of you had gotten…well, better. He would ask you questions about the stuff you grew, and you answered without hesitation. When you asked him about his rubber ducky creations, he babbled about his latest one and you would give him an idea on how to improve. “Perhaps instead of spitting out fire and water after the back flip, what if you did flower petals instead?” You said to him one afternoon as you hoisted a heavy pot up from the shelf, carefully placing it down on the workbench. “You can use the ones I remove when I prune the roses, if you’d like. All I ask is to not take too many of them. I am using them in an experiment to make soaps for the rooms so that Charlie doesn’t spend too much money on acquiring cleaning items.”

Lucifer immediately took you up on the offer, smiling so widely that it almost hurt his face before hurrying back to his workshop. In a matter of hours, he was cradling a brand new ducky that did release blood-red petals and golden sparkles! The ingenious part of it all is that, instead of doing a backflip, all someone needed to do was push its chest and poof, magic! It was amazing, the audience loved it and he actually liked it too!

 Lilith used to pitch ideas on his creations…at least…until she left. He still missed her. She’s Charlie’s mother, and not even he knew where she was or what she has been doing for the past seven years. He could only hope that wherever she is….she is happy.  

Instead of throwing this little gem with the rest of the ones he’d been working on since moving into the hotel, he gave this little ducky to you. A token of his gratitude, their friendship, whatever you thought the gift was! He just wanted to thank you for giving him that spark of creativity he had been looking for. 

To this day, it sat on the corner of your workbench, glowing under the red light streaming through the stained glass windows and in pristine condition. It was obvious that you treasured his little creation and it made his heart flutter in a way it hadn’t in a very long time. Before he realized it, his conversations with you shifted to memories of the past. 

He would regale the tales of Creation, how he’d tease his fellow angels and outwit them with harmless little pranks or showered their meeting assemblies with sparkles and ideas that…that they rejected in favor of order and obedience. It still hurt, that no matter how much he wanted to shower humanity with goodness and free will, it seemed like bad things had happened ever since he gave Eve the Fruit of Knowledge. 

You told him about the Great War  and how you served as a soldier in the Leidenschaftlich Army under Major Gilbert Bougainvillea. You could not remember your age, but everyone assumed you had been ten after being enlisted. You were fourteen when the war ended, and the Major had died saving your life. You never understand what his final words meant, I love you, until you yourself had perished. Not from old age or disease or famine, as most humans were known to succumb to back then. You had died protecting your friends, the people you had come to know in your line of work as an Automemory Doll, from being blown to smithereens by an anti-peace faction. Although the war had been over, men like General Merkulov could not comprehend a world without war. When the assassination attempt on the envoy failed, the bridge had been rigged to explode. Together with Benedict, you were able to remove the bombs…but when the last one you removed, the one that took great effort to remove…you lost your remaining arm, then your balance, careening off the train and into the dark waters below. That was the thing you remembered before waking up down here. 

There were days when you wondered how everyone else was doing, if Cattleya and the Lieutenant were all right, if there were still Automemory Dolls helping others with writing letters when the clients themselves were not able to read, write, or had trouble putting the words on the page. But who knew much time had passed since then? All you could hope…is that they were still able to live long, happy lives and not mourn for your death.

Because in the end, you finally understood the Major’s last words. And you would no longer need to follow orders to live. 

It made Lucifer a little sad when you finished your tale, it sort of made him wonder how you ended up down here when technically sacrificing yourself to save others should have gotten you into Heaven. You thought about that as well, drawing to the conclusion that even if you had died valiantly, it did not change the fact that you had killed many men in the war. Perhaps the blood on your hands will always be there, and you would have to live with that knowledge for eternity. Or maybe…no one really knows how to get into Heaven, as Charlie had informed everyone before, after the disastrous meeting with the Seraphim. Either way, if you were given the choice of being redeemed and going to Heaven, or remaining down here with everyone, you would choose to be here, in the Hazbin Hotel. 

Just because there is such a thing as Paradise, that didn’t mean you could not find your own. And you had found Paradise, here, with everyone. The sinners who are your family. 

Your words left him speechless. He had given humans free will, and all he had seen was the bad, never the good. But to hear your story, and how you are truly happy in a place surrounded by brimstone and the streets crawling with psychopaths, made him realize that you had used his gift as it was intended to be used. To have passion, to find love in one another than wholly dedicating your everything to the Big G. 

This revelation might have been when he was starting to realize that he was starting to see you as more than a friend or someone who believed in Charlie's dream. He followed you around like a little duckling around the hotel, occasionally leaving small gifts at your door and mentally panicking if you’d like it or not, and using his magic to help with your work in the greenhouse. Moreover…he trusted you. He had never shared any of his stories with Charlie about Heaven because he didn’t want her to be crushed like he had been. Now? Well, his little girl is thriving. Which brought Lucifer back to reality when he realized that in less than a week is his daughter’s birthday and he had no idea what to get her for a gift. The last time he had gotten her anything was when she went through her rebellious phase, and all she wanted to do was stay in her room and listen to heavy metal music all day. 

He immediately went to the greenhouse, bursting through the double doors and calling out to you in a panic. Ironically he found you in the apple orchard, standing on a ladder. You were picking the ones that were ready to be eaten and placing them in a wicker basket on the ground. When you saw him, you carefully climbed down the ladder and asked him if everything was all right. No, it wasn’t okay! He was not okay! 

He explained his dilemma to you in a rush, the words tumbling from his mouth like a tidal wave until he felt your gloved hand on his shoulder. You looked at him long and hard, leading him to the bench to sit before pouring him a glass of lemonade from a thermos. You offered it to him, and half of your sandwich. You were starting to eat more food at regular intervals and taking breaks instead of working until your task was done. You were trying to take better care of yourself; if not as part of your redemption, then at least to not worry Niffty or Charlie. 

He did take the lemonade, but gave you back the sandwich, scolding you needed to eat properly if you were continuing to skip meals periodically. You had the grace to look ashamed, carefully placing it back in the tin lunch box. You promised him that you would eat after you heard him out. 

You listened to him carefully before offering your help. If purchasing a gift for Charlie is hard for him because he is still getting to know her…then you can help him create a special letter for a special occasion. After all, you were an Automemory Doll. It was your job to write the words to connect people, to bring them closure and be remembered. Lucifer blinked in surprise, asking if it was really all right to ask you to do something that…might still bring back painful memories of your past. 

You shook your head. “If it were as painful as you believed it might be, then I would not have said something. Besides,” Your mouth curved upwards into a small smile. “Charlie deserved nothing but the best for her special day, right?”

It took all of Lucifer’s self control to not hug you right then and there. He could still make things work between him and Charlie, he can still be a good father!

Once you had eaten your lunch as you had promised, you asked him to meet you on the rooftop  in an hour. You needed to wrap everything up here in the greenhouse, eat, and grab your Remington typewriter. Charlie was still trying to figure out what to do with the space, but right now there was a table with some chairs up there. It was a good setting to write a letter without anyone overhearing the two of you. 

Lucifer wanted to start working on the gift right away, but he knew that you disliked leaving your work unfinished. So he left the greenhouse, letting you finish up. When it got closer to the time to meet up, he whipped some of your favorite tea and snacks with a flick of his wrist. Remedial creation for him! 

Once everything was set up and you had removed your gloves, the two of you got to work. 

He didn’t think writing a letter would be so difficult because he wanted to pour so much of his feelings into a single page. He was sorry that he missed her other birthdays, how he didn’t step up to be a father after Lilith left because he had been just as upset as her but didn’t have the courage to move forward, and how he wanted to make up for it all. How proud he is to have her as his daughter. 

At one point, he realized that he was staring at your skeletal fingers and how they were fluttering from one key to another before he forced himself to look at you when you asked him a question. He didn’t have time to look at your shiny hands, he had a job to do! 

Between your respectful schedules and small breaks in between, the letter was finished in a week. It was several pages long, folded neatly in a creme-colored letter with a red wax seal once he wrote his name at the bottom of the last page. He thanked you profusely for helping him, promising you anything in his power in exchange, you just had to name it. But you shook your head, saying that knowing his words in the letter will reach Charlie is more than enough. You were simply doing your job as an Automemory Doll. 

And by God you did. 

When Charlie read his letter, his gift to her on the morning of her birthday after presenting a plate full of her favorite caramel apple pancakes with maple syrup, bacon, and coffee in the kitchen, she cried. She cried and hugged him tightly, thanking him for this wonderful letter and how all she ever wanted was for him to understand her, to support her. He felt tears well up behind his eyes as he returned the embrace. It was already looking like it would be a good day. 

Later that day, the hotel staff arranged a small party for his little princess in the Ruby Ballroom. Food, drinks, music, even a small mountain of gifts. Vaggie was of course the brains behind it all, wanting Charlie to have a special day too. Everything was perfect. 

At least, until he saw you dancing with Alastor. You had changed out of your gardening clothes - a white long sleeved shirt and a green skirt with your hair pulled back in a loose ponytail - to one of your newer outfits. Or at least another one besides the white dress with the Prussian blue jacket you always wear. You actually looked more like a knight in this one than an Automemory Doll. Not that he was complaining. 

A sleeveless black buttoned up shirt under a white vest with a long turquoise tailcoat attached to it, a pair of black sleeves that covered your arms and hands, with a short blue and gold cloak attached to a white collar. The emerald brooch glowed under the ballroom’s lights. White tights embroidered with a gold-diamond dot pattern covered your legs, alongside a matching pair of knee-high boots and white gauntlets. 

In summary, you looked gorgeous and entirely out of place as you struggled to keep up with Alastor on the dance floor during the foxtrot. Polar opposites, oil and water, a pairing that doesn’t go well together. 

So being the badass fallen angel that he is, he tapped Alastor on the shoulder and asked if he could have a dance with you. The jazz music screeched to a halt  as the son of a bitch he turned to him, ears pinned against his head and eye twitching. He’s mad. Good. 

“Well, well, this is a surprise~! To think that His Majesty would want to dance when he’s so much shorter than our dear groundskeeper! What a delightful disaster~! But,” Lucifer saw Alastor’s grip on your hands tighten, causing a fleeting expression of discomfort to wash over your face. “We are not done dancing. Yet.” 

Lucifer felt his anger rise. “Listen here, you fucking prick -”

“Oh Al, there you are~!” Charlie suddenly appeared, smiling and oblivious to what was going on at the moment before she gently tugged the Radio Demon away from the dance floor. “There’s something I need to show you~!” 

Alastor did not want to be separated from you, and while he did want to keep dancing, Lucifer knew this asshole valued his pride and reputation above all else. He wouldn’t dare act of character unless it benefitted him in some way. He then turned to you, who looked more than a little relieved to not be near Alastor and…your face was red? 

He frowned. “Are you okay?”

You nodded. “Y-Yes. I’m…fine.” That caught his attention. You never stuttered. But with how you were smiling at him shyly…it wasn’t hard to let him have hope. To believe that his feelings towards you were actually reciprocated. He smiled at the thought, stretching his hand out towards you. 

“Care to dance?”

Taglist: @alastor-simp @alastorsgoldie @food-theorys-blog @nunezs-stuff @lbcreations-blog @imperfectbloodmoon @crystalrose36 @nixie-writes @isuckatwritingsobenice @tired-of-life-86 @frompeach @trecllllllll @lanxianschoenheit @22carolina08 @witch-of-writing-desk @mary-v193 @chewbrry @mmelionsblog @ladymothbeth @the-cat-queen-peasants @anielly-2010 @victheauthor @alyriaschoenheit @blumin8 @akemika75 @f4turemom @kameyo-kumo @aloenemonabee27 @doc-tooth @theuknowntravel3r @angelltheninth @solandis-does-stuff @navierkalani @deathmetalunicorn1 @star-fawn21 @sleepy-hutao @gamerxpfighter @no1sillybilly @frenchtoastmafia @candyladycry @bladeismine @bones4thecats

[luvsymai]

I loved your fic where reader and katsuki die I was wondering if you could do a I sorta guess like a part two with people finding them I don’t if you write that kinda thing so sorry if you don’t! -anon🐛

The Final Spark 2 ; Katsuki Bakugo

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x GN!Reader

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Major character deaths, …

<- Masterlist

<- Part one // Part two // Part three

___________________________________

The battlefield, once a place of heroic dreams and ambitions, was now a desolate graveyard. Smoke lingered in the air, mingling with the metallic scent of blood. The devastation was complete, and the silence was suffocating. Among the ruins, the remaining heroes scoured the area, looking for any sign of life, any flicker of hope amidst the carnage.

Izuku Midoriya, his face etched with exhaustion and grief, moved slowly through the wreckage. Every fallen hero and civilian they encountered tore at his heart, but he kept moving, driven by a desperate need to find his friends. His heart sank deeper with every step, his mind refusing to accept the worst.

It was Kirishima who found them first. His usually bright eyes dulled with sorrow as he called out to the others. "Guys, over here," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Midoriya and the others rushed to his side, only to be met with a heart-wrenching sight. Their friend, Katsuki, laying motionless on the ground, his arms tightly wrapped around you. His face, usually so fierce and determined, was softened in a final act of protection and love. You both looked peaceful, as if sleeping, but the blood and the stillness told a different story.

"No... no, this can't be," Midoriya muttered, falling to his knees beside his childhood friend. Tears streamed down his face as he reached out, his hand trembling. "Kacchan... please, wake up..."

Kirishima's face contorted with grief as he knelt next to Bakugo, his hand gently resting on his friend's shoulder. "He fought so hard... they both did," he said, his voice breaking. "He... he never gave up."

Even though Katsuki was mostly rude towards them, they knew deep down inside of him, that he was fond of them.

Ochaco Uraraka, standing nearby, covered her mouth with her hand, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Bakugo was… Bakugo was holding them…" she said softly, her voice filled with a mix of sorrow and bittersweet warmth. "Even in the end, they were together."

Midoriya gently tried to pry Katsuki’s hold on you, but it was locked in a death grip. "He's... he's holding on so tightly," he said, his voice shaking. "We... we can't separate them."

Shoto Todoroki, his usual stoic expression replaced with one of profound sadness, knelt beside Midoriya. "We won't," he said quietly. "They'll be buried together, just as they should be."

The heroes worked in silence, carefully lifting the entwined bodies of Katsuki and you. Every movement was filled with reverence and sorrow, the weight of the moment pressing down on them. As they carried you both from the battlefield, the reality of their loss settled heavily on their shoulders.

Back at the makeshift camp, the news spread quickly. The other heroes and civilians gathered, paying their respects to the fallen. There were no words to express the depth of their grief, but their silence spoke volumes.

A funeral was held shortly after, a somber affair that brought together friends, family, and comrades. The sky was overcast, as if the heavens themselves were mourning. Katsuki and you were laid to rest side by side, his arms still wrapped protectively around you. The gravestones, simple yet poignant, bore your names and the legacy of your bravery.

As the ceremony drew to a close, Midoriya stepped forward, his voice breaking as he spoke. "Kacchan... you were always so strong, so fierce. You never backed down, never gave up. You were our hero.” He took a deep breath in. “And (Name)... you’re the kindest person I’ve ever met, you were quick to jump into action. You had a heart of a hero. You stood by his side through everything. Your courage and love were a light in this dark world. We'll never forget you. We promise to keep fighting, to honor your memory."

The crowd slowly dispersed, but Midoriya, Kirishima, and a few others remained, unable to leave just yet. They stood in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, their hearts heavy with loss.

Finally, Midoriya spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. "Goodbye, Kacchan. Goodbye, (Name). We'll miss you... so much."

As they walked away, the memory of Bakugo’s protective embrace and the love that bound you together lingered in their minds. It was a reminder of the cost of their fight, of the sacrifices made. And though their hearts were broken, they knew they had to carry on, for you, for Bakugo, and for the future you had both fought so hard to protect.

(A/N) Hope you guys like this! (Spoilers for KNY) I was kind of inspired by Mitsuri and Obanai for the death scene :)

<- Masterlist

<- Part one // Part two // Part Three

[nadvs]

can u do them getting married in the swte au but like max or someone shows up and tries to do something...

ohhh i love wedding drama 👀

based on this fic

» au masterlist

at this point, rafe’s career has taken off to a level he never even dreamed of. he’s been playing professionally for six years and he’s so famous that even people who don’t follow sports know who he is.

men want to be him, women want to be with him. yet all he wants is to play ball and live a good, comfortable life with his girl and their kids.

it’s tough, but she’s gotten used to it. the press know her at this point, too, so she’s not able to really go anywhere without being followed.

so, after he proposes, they tell family and their closest friends only, keeping the engagement a secret. she doesn’t even risk wearing her ring out.

they plan a small, private wedding, with only twenty guests. it’s a reprieve from the chaos that has become their lives.

rafe is grateful for his career, but he resents that the fame has taken away their chance at a normal life. his fiancée assures him she’s okay with it, but even though he has all the money he could ever dream of, he wishes he could somehow buy her peace and quiet and anonymity.

he does his best for their wedding. he hires security to surround the venue. the ceremony is intimate. no problems, no hitches.

but at the reception, late into the night, he notices a waiter snapping a photo of them on his phone. rafe doesn’t want to ruin the atmosphere for his bride’s sake, so he quietly motions for one of the security guards to follow him and corners the waiter.

rafe looks back to see his wife dancing with the twins to make sure she doesn’t see. he doesn’t want any stress on their day.

“delete that,” rafe warns. he’s livid. he made sure the venue manager told the service staff they weren’t allowed to take photos or tell anyone whose wedding they were working.

“i’m just a big fan,” the waiter says nervously.

“then you’d respect what we asked for,” he mutters. his fists are clenched. it’s taking everything in him not to lose it. he’s just as temperamental as he was when he was playing in college, but now, he actually has something to lose, so he keeps his cool for his family’s sake. “did you send it to anyone? or post it?”

the man’s eyes go wide.

“no,” he says. but the lie is obvious.

“how many people?”

“just my…” he looks away. “i’ll delete it.”

rafe watches the guy scrambling on his phone. he scoffs once he realizes it was on his story. he takes the phone out of his hand and taps to see that it’s been seen by 14 people. that’s more than enough for a story to spread.

“please don’t tell my boss,” he says.

“you’re fuckin’ dreaming,” rafe mutters.

he assures the story gets taken down. he watches the guy delete the photo, then delete it from his deleted folder. and then, rafe finds his boss.

he doesn’t want the public to take a piece of something as sacred as their wedding day. the photos, these memories, are just for them and their loved ones.

rafe finds his wife on the dance floor, their kids hopping around her to the music. once his daughter sees him, she stretches her arms out for him pick her up. he crouches to hold her.

“everything okay?” his wife asks him. rafe must be wearing his concern on his face.

he kisses his daughter’s cheek.

“yeah,” he says, although he’s not sure. paparazzi could be on their way now. but he doesn’t want to worry her. “did i tell you how pretty you are?”

she cocks her head, beaming at him.

“only a million times,” she says.

“how about me?” his daughter asks.

“oh, you’re the prettiest,” her mom coos.

rafe eventually manages to get back into the enjoyment of the night. the twins are eventually taken home by family for bedtime.

but then, close to one a.m., one of the guards he hires finds him to tell him they stopped press at the door.

“for fuck’s sake,” rafe mutters. his wife looks up at him with sad eyes. she didn’t need to hear what security said. she knows. “just keep them out, alright?”

because she loves rafe so much, she swallows her sorrow and takes his hand, guiding him to lean close to her so he can hear her over the music.

“you’ve given me a perfect day,” she says, “and a perfect life. don’t stress about it. they’ll leave. and if they don’t, we’ll find another way out. the kids are home safe. that’s what matters.”

rafe tightens his jaw. and he realizes she’s grown just as much as he has. they used to be just two impulsive, stubborn, short-tempered kids, but now they have almost endless patience and understanding for each other.

at some point, they really did become their own little team, protecting each other, growing into better people for each other.

“i’m sorry,” he says, guilt consuming him.

“not your fault,” she tells him. “just dance with your wife, okay? for once, we don’t have kids demanding we pick them up or give them snacks. let’s enjoy it.”

they get drunk. and even though they leave an hour later, the paps catch them darting out of the back of the banquet hall, camers shuttering as they’re held back by a wall of security as they dip into the limousine.

the photos hit the public the next day, the story of their secret wedding all over social media.

even though rafe worried it ruined their wedding, the next morning, she holds her phone up to him as they eat breakfast as a family. the photo of them drunkenly laughing as they scrambled into the limo last night is on her screen. it’s a captured moment of pure bliss.

“is it crazy that i want this one added to the album?” she says.

“what? what?” her son demands to see.

she leans to show her kids the photo and all rafe can do is stare at her. it’s so like her, finding a positive in something that he thought put a blemish on the night.

perfect. that’s the word she used last night. a perfect life. as he sits at the table with the three people he loves most, a ring on his hand, he can’t think of a better word to describe it.

[glader13]

Saudade

Bi-Han x reader

Part 2

Part 3

Saudade: a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant, or has been loved and then lost; "the love that remains"

You didn’t know why you agreed to go to the Summer Festival, the last time being four years ago. You didn’t know why you agreed to go to the festival when all your friends were married, though not intentionally, and would barely have time for you. You sighed, staring at yourself in the mirror, as you put on the last of your makeup. Your jewelry box caught your eye, flashing in the light of your room as you slowly put away the makeup supplies, your heart twisting. The last time your ring saw the light was four years ago. 

You opened the box, tracing the ring. Its diamonds, shined as you turned it over in your hand, tilting it to see the engraving: for my love. Simple, but beautiful. You softly laughed to yourself, who knew people could miss being in an arranged marriage? You put the ring on, holding your hand out, an old thrill running through your heart. 

I wonder if Bi-Han does this? If he misses me? Before you could dwell on the thought, a knock on your bedroom door gave the news that your friends had arrived. You softly kissed your ring, wishing that it was his lips instead. But the heat on your face ran cold, the thrill gone as his words remerged in your heart. Your night began at Madam Bo’s, a dinner, great. You awkwardly sat at the end of the table, watching your girlfriends practically lie on top of their husbands. You felt yourself staring at their husbands’ faces, noticing how his eyes tracked their movements, their lips always curled in a smile of pride. You even noticed their arm position, around their wife, holding her close, how his lips would grace her ear or neck, whispering words of intimacy. 

The scene reminded you all too much of Bi-Han and how you met him through forced proximity. The political parties that you were forced to go to with your parents and brothers, always seeing him there, his dark eyes observant. The red drink at your table you watched being poured and then shared with your friends and their husbands, reminding you of when you actually talked to Bi-Han. You were bored of the party, and sneaking glances in his direction, you decided to walk out for some fresh air. 

You didn’t see him and neither did he see you, it was like running into a wall. His drink ruined your white dress, and you found it cute how his face, usually so stoic as you have noticed at past parties, matched the color of his drink. Your first words to him, “You can apologize by helping me get this out of my dress.” The next day, he personally delivered you a new white dress, and you now had someone to talk to at parties. This didn’t go unnoticed by your parents and his father, who watched the two of you talk. 

You stabbed at your food, smiling your way through the dinner as Bi-Han occupied your mind and jealousy clawed at your heart. You mindlessly listened to the conversations around you: someone was going off on vacation, one of your friends decided to have a summer home in the countryside and one is expecting, again. You remember your friends' confusion as to why you were so upset over the ending of your arranged marriage, though Bi-Han called things off before the ceremony could happen. 

You weren’t surprised when your parents told you that you were going to marry him, it made sense. They were trying to expand their political power, and what better way to do so than by marrying into the most powerful clan? The only aspect of your life that you were able to control was your desire for medicine, and becoming a physician. You let out a sigh, heart twisting again. 

“I’m going to the bar,” you announced, though you only got a nod and a half-hearted question asking if you were okay. The bar was no better, surrounded by men whose actions reminded you of teenagers, lacking the respect that Bi-Han has. Their stares were unashamed, some even sat close to you, the smell of alcohol on their breath making you thankful for the days that you trained with Bi-Han. His reason: “The grandmaster's wife should at least know how to protect herself.”

The festival was no better, trailing behind your friends, and dodging children escaping from their parents. You had no one to light firecrackers with, to share sweets with. Your friends and family were confused by why you refused to have another. Maybe it was because you were haunted by him at night. Feeling his phantom hands around your body, the ghosts of his kisses on your lips. He may have been cold, and hard to talk to, but he made up for it in a love that seemed to undo you at your core. So tender was his love, that it was a gift from a divine power, a gift that only his mother could have given. 

No man can come near it, no man can replace it. No matter how hard you try to convince those around you, they can never understand. You snuck away from your group, making your way back to your home, unnoticed. You slipped past your parents, who were in deep conversation, no doubt about you and how you aren’t married, and upstairs to your room. You slip out of your shoes, your hands immediately finding the jewelry box with your engagement ring. You stared at the ring, thinking of the moment when he proposed to you. 

Sitting in your shared room, you on the bed and him on the floor in between your legs, you were rubbing ointment on his shoulders and back trying to soothe the pain of his bruises and scratches. You remember the silence being loud and tense, each time his hand idly touched your leg, heat rushed through your body, stealing your breath. 

“You’re overstrained,” you said, “Take some time to rest.” He only grumbled in response. 

“I’m the doctor here,” you smiled, causing him to squeeze your leg. 

“As the future grandmaster, weakness will not be tolerated or shown,” he says. You nod, hearing him sigh in relief as you relieve a tight spot in his back. 

He reached up, taking one of your hands in his, “As the future grandmaster, I will also need someone by my side. Someone who is steadfast and loyal,” his hand tightened, slightly becoming cold. 

“You have those qualities and more. Treating me with patience and love when I deserved to be yelled at,” he finally turned around, his face a light red, “You always know what to say, and when you’re not next to me I know that I need you.”

“Your love transcends the nature of our marriage, it rubbed off on me. I’m thankful that I spilled my drink on you,” you remember the pounding of your heart as he shakily placed the ring on your finger. He didn’t need to propose, but the fact that he did overwhelm your heart. 

You wiped your eyes, watching the water fall from your finger, your mind wondering if he ever thinks back on that moment. He probably doesn’t, you frown, thinking of the slow breakdown of your relationship. In the planning phase of the marriage, his mother died, putting things on hold. You remember the night that he woke you, tears streaming down his eyes, it was the first and only time that you saw him cry. Just as he was beginning to recover and tentatively plan the wedding, his father died in an attack. 

That was when your relationship died when he officially became grandmaster. Shutting you out completely, your bedroom filled with silence. The only time that he would have acknowledged you was when you had sex, though even that was impersonal. He watched you leave that day, and it felt like he stabbed you through your chest. You still don’t know if you hate him, a part of you wishes that he would burn, that his frozen heart would stop. But the other part wants nothing more than to hold him, to be in his heart. 

The thump on your floor, caused you to jump out of bed. “I need you,” you straightened, hearing his voice. 

Bi-Han leaned against the wall, next to your open window. He was breathing heavily, his arm was bloody from a wound, as he held his side, which was coating his fingers red. You led him to your bed, taking off his top, before running downstairs to get your medical supplies. You cleaned his wound on his side first, the only noise was his sharp breathing. He didn’t look at you, well he only did when he thought you weren’t looking at his face. 

“What happened?” you found the courage to talk. 

“It doesn’t concern you,” he says, causing you to sigh. 

“But you came into my room instead of going to your home to get medical help,” you said, “So, it does concern me.”

You felt proud for sticking up for yourself, despite the eye roll that he gave you. You worked in silence again after that, moving to his arm. The steadiness of your hands was a disguise for the erratic pace of your mind and heart. There’s so much you wanted to say, but no words could translate the emotions that you felt, how much you ached for him. 

“It was during a mission,” he finally admitted, “Kuai Liang, Tomas, and I were being chased. I distracted the pursuers.”

“Are they alright?” You asked, to which he nodded, saying that they escaped. 

You smiled, saying there, as you wrapped his arm. The silence was less tense as you began to put away your supplies, the setting reminding you of the moments when you would tend to his injuries after practices and missions. You felt his eyes track you, throughout the whole process, even as you quickly picked up your ring, placing it in your jewelry box. Once everything was clean, you sat next to him, a frown forming when he slightly moved away from you. 

You finally looked at him, and his dark eyes were focused on you. You felt yourself getting lost in the hue, practically drowning, and it felt so good. So good to be lost in those eyes, it felt so good to talk to him. You found yourself feeling like the first time you saw him: staring too hard into his eyes, taking in his facial features, though older still just as handsome as when you first saw him those years ago. 

“You went to the festival,” his words were a statement, and you nodded. 

  You felt him drawing into you. His eyes focused too long on your lips, taking in the specs of your eyes. His eyes were drawn to the small scar on your neck that he accidentally gave you while training. Your face warmed thinking of the times when the two of you would make love and how he always made it a habit to kiss you there. The scar seemed to be connected to your heart because each kiss caused you to become weak. Your sweet perfume of strawberries and peach nectar reminded him of the nights the two of you spent tangled together. You looked beautiful, the red on your dress bringing out your skin. He felt a sting in his heart at the thought of you going out without him, and he didn’t know why. 

“I went with my girlfriends,” you say, feeling an odd need to clarify who you went with, “But I left early, a good thing for you.”

Bi-Han slightly relaxed, giving you another nod. You kicked off your shoes and then began to take off your jewelry. Starting with your gold earrings, and rings. You then began to unclasp your necklace, but the lock slipped through your fingers each time you tried. You sighed each time you failed, fighting with yourself to not ask Bi-Han for help. But, you felt the weight of the bed lift before coming back again as he sat behind you. He undid your necklace, quietly saying there. 

You thanked him, watching him slightly nod at you. He then began to gather his clothing, causing you to jump up. You grabbed his arm, causing him to pause, “Where are you going?”

“Home,” he said.

“You’re in no condition to leave,” you said, pulling him back. 

“I’m fine y/n,” he said, “I don’t need you to baby me.”

You rolled your eyes, feeling annoyance wash over you, yet you didn’t open your mouth. Along with the annoyance, there was something desperate in you trying to keep him there for a little bit longer. He didn’t fight you, though he did tense under your touch, unknowingly to you, but there was something in him that made him keep his arm in your hands. 

“You need to stay the night,” you said, “You’re hurt and it’s late. Those people could still be looking for you.”

Gently, you led him back to your bed, as if testing how far you’ll be able to go. He didn’t resist, and that made your heart soar even more. He sat on the edge once again, scarcely meeting your eyes as he asked for blankets to sleep on the floor. 

“You’re on the bed,” you say, digging through your drawer to find your sleeping clothes, “I’m not going to let you do that.”

“Besides, we aren’t strangers,” you smiled, “And we did much more than share a bed, remember?”

“We aren’t married y/n,” Bi-Han stated, causing you to frown, “And that alone makes us strangers.”

“Yeah, I wonder why?” Your frown returned as you walked into your bathing room to change. Bi-Han sighed, watching you leave in silence, again. 

He walked around your room, trying to busy himself. He looked at the paintings on your wall, and the flowers in the vases. He wandered to your drawer, staring at his reflection, thinking of the time when his eyes weren’t pools of darkness, of loneliness. He lifted your rose-colored jewelry box, his eyes immediately being drawn to the Lin Kuei pendant, to your ring. You didn’t throw it out, you didn’t sell it, and that alone had his heart jump. Though, he didn’t know if it was out of joy that you still keep pieces of him, or out of shame. He wants to find out, but not tonight. 

You found him sitting on one side of your bed, facing the window. He was more relaxed, his dark hair falling over his shoulders as he briefly looked at you. You pretended not to notice the small patches of ice underneath his hands, as you blew out the candles. In bed, the two of you slept with your backs facing each other, the word goodnight stuck in your throat. You snuggled deeper into your blanket, the silence allowing your brain to scream as you thought of his last words to you, how his lips curled in indifference. 

“Do you even care about me?” You asked, “You changed so much, so different from the person who spilled their drink on me.”

“What’s your point?” He asked, “People change.”

“But people don’t shut out their lover, their wife,” you walked closer to him. 

“A wife that I didn’t choose,” his words were worse than being injured, “A marriage that is in line with my responsibility of being grandmaster.”

“Is that all that I am now? What happened to the words that you said when you proposed?” You remember feeling the pain swell in your chest, like an angry sea, “Did you mean those words? Do you even love me anymore?”

He never answered you. 

He never gave a damn, you thought, I was just another responsibility. But you hoped that you were more, and there was a time that you were. You finally slept cleaning the stray tear, wondering if he was sleeping or staring at you in the dark. 

Bi-Han woke up at the first light, quietly groaning from his injuries. He immediately looked at you, sometime during the night you turned to face him, your hand slightly reaching outward. Reminding him of the sunlight-soaked mornings when he would get up for training as you still slept. He leaned forward, noticing a slight flutter of your eyes, how the soft orange light made your skin glow. He would have leaned forward even further, kissing your face, whispering that he was going to train.  

Would’ve. 

He quickly got dressed, leaving as quietly as he came. Back at home, he stalked to his room, ignoring his brothers’ questions. He pulled open his drawer, dug through his clothes, and pulled out a ring. He stared at it, turning it in his hand. He clutched it in his hand, resting his forehead. He thought that he would be free from the ghosts of regrets, he believed that he conquered them all. Until that night with you, wanting to talk, but not being able to. But he wanted to, so desperately. He wanted to fix the words that caused you to leave him, that ruined his life. But he doesn’t how to talk, at least that’s what he tells himself as he places his ring back in the drawer. 

You woke up with the smell of him in your nose, the smell comforting. However, as you reached out, you were met with air. You turned over letting out a sigh, not knowing why you were expecting him to be there when you woke up. That morning and even that day, you spent it in a haze, thinking of your night with Bi-Han. He was constantly on your mind, as you checked in on patients, and had lunch with your friends. With every word about her new countryside home and the annoyances with the building process, it went through one ear as you thought of when he sat so close behind you, the coldness from his body radiating off of him. You couldn’t help but wish that last night led to something more. That he said something more. But he left, again, he’s always leaving. Despite the hurt, you wanted to see him again, you would do anything to see him again. You don’t know why your love is so stubborn when it has all the right to leave. But you hoped to see him again, to say the words that you couldn’t say.

[mellowsadistic]

The Flower Girl - Part 1

Grace is getting married and she’s determined not to let Jessica, her husband-to-be’s ex, ruin the wedding. But if this is her big day, why is she being dressed as the flower girl?

***

Grace was walking around the reception, greeting her guests, when she spotted her out of the corner of her eye. Jessica. Grace had invited her out of politeness, but she’d really hoped the woman wouldn’t come. What was she thinking, turning up here? Surely she’d known Grace hadn’t really wanted her to be at her wedding!

She was talking with Sophie, one of Grace’s old schoolfriends, and Sophie seemed to be listening raptly to whatever it was she was saying.

Grace continued to wander around, accepting congratulations and beaming at everyone, tossing her beautiful blonde hair behind her and feeling like the prettiest woman in the room. Eventually she reached Sophie herself.

“Hi, Sophie!” she said. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

“Hi sweetie!” Sophie said, turning to look at her. She spoke in an oddly high-pitched, overly-enthusiastic voice, like she was talking to a nursery-schooler. “Are you looking forward to the ceremony?”

Grace didn’t know what to say. She’d been expecting Sophie to say ‘congratulations’. Why the hell was she talking in such a stupid way? “Uh, yes!” she managed, deciding it was best to just ignore her friend’s odd behaviour. “I’ve been waiting for this for so long! I hope it’s everything I imagined!”

“Awww!” Sophie cooed. Grace felt herself going red. Was Sophie mocking her? “That’s so cute! Are you going to wear a pretty dress, honey?”

“Uh, yes of course. I… In fact, I’d better go and get dressed now. It takes a while and I need my bridesmaids to help.”

“Of course you do,” Sophie said patronisingly.

“Well… See you later, Sophie!”

“Bye-bye, cutie!” Sophie waved.

Grace turned and walked away. What was that about?! She frowned, thinking. Jessica had been talking to Sophie not long ago. Could she have convinced Sophie to talk to her like that for some reason? Grace hoped the most special day of her life wasn’t going to be tainted by some stupid practical joke. But she couldn’t imagine Sophie taking part of something like that. Sophie had never even liked Jessica!

It was probably just nerves, Grace told herself, trying to push the matter from her mind. She needed to get her bridesmaids and go into the back to change into her wedding dress. She felt excitement bubbling up inside her. She’d never really stopped fantasising about the perfect wedding, ever since she was a little girl, and now she was finally getting it! And Rob was the most wonderful man she’d ever met. She flushed at the thought of her gorgeous husband-to-be. She wouldn’t see him until she walked down the aisle though. She wanted everything to be perfect.

“Good luck, Gracie!” someone said to her as she made her way through the crowd, and she smiled awkwardly back in the general direction of the voice. She hated being called Gracie - she wasn’t a two-year-old for goodness sake! But nothing was going to ruin her good mood today. She was determined of that.

She slipped past a group of guests and found the people she was looking for; Olivia, Caroline, and Annie. Her three bridesmaids. At least the three of them were acting normally. They hurried up to her the moment they saw her, looking almost as excited as she felt.

They put their heads together, giggling.

“Ready?” asked Olivia, grinning.

Grace grinned back and nodded.

The four of them moved through the guests and into a room in the back of the venue where Grace could get changed. Her wedding dress was hanging on a clothes rack waiting for her. She beamed at it. It was beautiful – pure white, of course, with a floral-patterned bodice and a flowing, floor-length skirt. Elegant and sophisticated, sexy but still classy. The perfect dress.

Grace would barely contain her excitement as Olivia, Caroline, and Annie helped her change into it. She couldn’t take her eyes off the mirror in front of her as she was steadily transformed into the bride she’d dreamed about being ever since she was a little girl.

She was almost done when Caroline suddenly said “Oh!”

“What?” Grace asked, worried something had gone wrong.

“Your veil! I think your mother has it. Or maybe it’s still in the car…”

“Don’t panic,” Olivia soothed, seeing Grace’s face. “The three of us will go and look for it. I’m sure it’s around. We’ll be right back.”

Her bridesmaids left the room, leaving Grace alone. But a few moments later, the door opened, and Jessica stepped inside.

“Hi sweetie!” she said, with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Hello Jessica,” said Grace, looking at her warily.

“Don’t you look pretty!” Jessica cooed, but her eyes were sparkling malevolently. “Looking forward to walking down the aisle?”

“Listen Jessica,” said Grace firmly, “whatever it is you’re here for, whatever you’ve got planned…”

“Planned?” asked Jessica, cocking her head.

“I just don’t want you ruining things by trying to make this all about you,” Grace said coldly. “This is a very special day for me.”

“Of course it is, Gracie,” Jessica said. Her smile widened. “The wedding couldn’t happen without you!” She let out a light, tinkling laugh, and then she turned and left the room.

Grace scowled. Gracie again. And she didn’t like the way Jessica had been smiling. Did she really not have anything planned? They’d been friends once, but Grace had got together with Rob shortly after he’d broken up with Jessica, and Jessica hadn’t liked that one bit. Grace remembered Jessica screaming at her, calling her a big-titted whore who’d stolen her boyfriend.

Grace adjusted her large breasts in her wedding dress. It was true she had a better figure than Jessica, but she hardly thought that mattered. She and Rob had been meant for each other, and that was all there was to it.

What else was it that Jessica had said to her? Stupid little girls shouldn’t steal other people’s things, that was it. Grace smirked. Rob was hers now anyway. They were getting married and there was nothing Jessica could do about it. She’d only been invited in the first place because it would have seemed rude not to invite her after Grace had invited all her other old friends – it would make it seem like she was the one still carrying a grudge.

Grace shook her head. What was she doing? She shouldn’t even be thinking about Jessica right now. Not on her big day! She admired herself in the mirror, picturing how she’d look walking smoothly down the aisle on the best day of her life.

Minutes past, and her bridesmaids still hadn’t returned. But just when Grace was starting to get worried, the door opened again. She look around eagerly as Olivia and Caroline stepped into the room, but her smile faltered when they were closely followed not by Annie, but by Jessica. She was holding something white and semi-transparent in her arms. Was that stupid bitch carrying her veil?! Hadn’t she got the message that she wasn’t wanted?

But as Jessica stepped forward, Grace realised the thing she was holding wasn’t a veil at all. It was a dress. A very different dress from the beautiful, elegant, sophisticated wedding dress she was currently wearing.

“What’s going on?” asked Grace. She’d just noticed that her two bridesmaids were looking at her rather strangely. They were both smiling, but Olivia was shaking her head from side to side, like a kindergarten teacher amused by the antics of a misbehaving toddler, and Caroline was looking at her with the same sort of sickeningly sweet eagerness that Grace had seen earlier on Sophie’s face. “What are you…?”

“Come on, sweetie,” Jessica interrupted, and her eyes were glinting darkly. “It’s time to get you into your proper clothes. That’s enough playing pretend. I need my wedding dress for my big day.” She smiled broadly. “But don’t worry. I’ve found something much more appropriate for you to wear!"

[wild-typo-turtle]

Threads - Part 12

Explicit (slow burn, 18+ only) - Rings of Power - Gil-galad x OFC (Elf)

Includes S2E8 of Rings of Power - spoilers ahoy!

Gil-galad had only taken a handful of steps when his gaze passed over yet another collapsed building. From the looks of things, it had once been an open, airy shop that had faced directly into the plaza. The roof had caved in, creating dusty shadows, and even his keen eyes might have missed the slumped figure had he not heard the tiny whimper from the darkness.

Eregion has been destroyed; Sauron is gone. And yet, the sun still shines, as the ruined city holds the last thing that High King Gil-galad had ever expected to find.

Themes: #Idiots in love, #love at first sight, #soulmates, #smut with feelings, #fix-it, #everybody lives

Content Warnings: Explicit content (parts 9 and 11), canon-typical violence; loss of parents; grief/mourning.

Tag List: @morganas-pendragons, @stellar-solar-flare, @the141bandicoot; @inyx-writes44, @melmel-fandom, @hufflepufferine, @shadows-and-flowers, @xcrybaby555x, @bespectacledhuman

Face claim: Keri Russell as Linnea

Part 1 (includes A/N and credits), Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9 (contains smut), Part 10, Part 11 (contains very brief, light smut)

A/N: Once again, the chapter ate words, and demanded that it be split into two. So here's the actual wedding, and then the coronation and wedding night will be in the next part! Also - the Quenya is probably pretty horrible/inaccurate, and I take full responsibility for bad translation. -WTT

Part 12

The morning of the wedding dawned bright and clear. The sun shone down through the trees, turning everything a pale gold, as if the weather itself were smiling and approving of what was to come. 

The servants had brought her breakfast, but Linnea had barely been able to eat. She had managed tea, and had nibbled on a piece of fresh, hot bread, but the thought of anything more sent her stomach twisting into knots. She reminded herself that there would be ample food at the wedding feast - and perhaps her nerves would settle by then. 

She slipped into the bath and let Pendes carefully wash her hair, trying to relax in the hot water. Steam drifted around her, scented with roses and lilies, and she ran her sponge over herself as Pendes massaged her scalp. It felt so ordinary - the same motions as she performed every morning - and yet, there was a sparkling haze over it all. The previous night had been restless, everything almost too clear and sharp to her eyes. Today was softer, as if half in a dream.  

When the bath was finished and she was dry, Linnea wrapped herself in her robe before going into her dressing area. Her wedding dress waited for her, another thing that didn't seem entirely real; as she drew the dress over her head, it felt like it was barely there in her hands. Lavan laced it for her up the back, and once it was tightened, she lifted the skirts and stepped into her shoes.

Hair next. She seated herself at the dressing table and Pendes carefully combed out her curls, arranging them just so on her shoulders. For the wedding feast, she would wear the gold filigree circlet that she had worn the prior day, but that would be replaced by her new crown at the coronation.

The crown was not in her rooms. It was waiting along with everything else for the wedding; the gold rings, and Gil-galad’s cloak, that she had carefully wrapped in gold silk. Elrond had been entrusted with the logistics of the ceremony, and even though she had not spent much time with him, she felt confident that everything would go smoothly. She had been able to give Elrond the cloak and whisper that it was a surprise, and trust that her secret would be kept safe.

Pendes finished with the comb, and stepped back. Linnea looked in the mirror.

Her hair shone. Her skin was clean and flawless, glowing with health and vigor. Her eyes were bright, and her cheeks were pink.  

She was ready.

The courtyard that they had chosen for the ceremony was fitting. It was just the right size for the small group, and moreover, it was private, and it was reasonably close to the kitchens for purposes of the feast. And it also happened to be the courtyard that Linnea had arrived in, that very first day in Lindon.

Adabes had overseen the decorations. Poles had been erected, with cloth streamers and garlands of flowers stretching between them. A small dais had been set up for the musicians, a harpist and a flautist and a singer. More flowers had been strewn on the tables; lanterns and banners had been hung; candles had been placed. The tables themselves were small, no more than four seats each, allowing for more intimate conversations. It had also avoided any awkwardness in seating; it had been easy to put groups together that would not risk offending anyone.

She couldn’t see it, but she could picture it; she had seen it all the previous day, one last look to ensure that everything was ready. And she could hear it; the guests were mingling, and she could make out the murmurs of conversation. 

Linnea had paused in a small antechamber that led to the large terrace out front, the terrace where Gil-galad had waited for her. He would do so again now; she would emerge so that everyone could see them, and they could greet their guests. And then the feast would begin.

She waited, but she did not wait long. Adabes came into the cool, shadowy side room, beaming. She was dressed in gold and green, and had wrapped the silk shawl Linnea had given her over her shoulders. 

“It is time,” she said. “All awaits you, my lady.”

Linnea inhaled deeply. 

“Thank you.”

It didn't even sound like her voice, coming from her lips. But she smoothed her skirts, and then stepped forward.

As she’d known he would be, Gil-galad was waiting for her on the terrace, where everyone could see them coming together. And he glowed.

He had chosen white samite, shot through with threads of gold, and she understood his smugness when he had seen the color of her dress. The cut was similar to his council robe, long and fairly simple, with an overrobe of the same samite. The edges and the sleeves were bordered in pale gold, and the gold was embroidered with flames in silver thread - the noble fire of his name. His dark hair looked even darker against the white and gold, brushed smooth and shining, and his crown shone atop it. 

The crown was not his only adornment. He wore the gold pectoral he favored, and a gold belt hugged his waist. And both Vilya and his betrothal ring sparkled on his hand. 

She wondered how all of this had happened. What she had done, how she had been so fortunate to wed him. He was beautiful in every way that an Elf could be, but seeing him now - how was it her he had chosen to wed? 

No sooner had she had the thought, than she felt the ósanwë come to life.

I am the fortunate one, rîn vuin. You have chosen me, and I will be grateful for it until the end of my days. 

She could feel it, too. His joy, his gratitude, his wonder.

The warmth of it made her smile, and as he held out his hand, she placed hers in it without hesitation.

Gil-galad led her to the edge of the terrace, to the stone railing that circled it. The musicians, that had paused when she stepped out, began to play again. And, still with her hand held in his, he raised his voice in song.

Eldalie!

túl rimbë símen esse sina sinome 

i lillassea laurë, i nen lutta 

túl ar morco cetta ana sina ertie

i tuine sir, i wilin líre. 

Eldalie!

Túl sina, i amaurea o veryanwe 

i salque na lai, i úrin na calima 

túl ar líre, túl ar merenya 

túl cen sí ve emme vanda melin oiale.  

It was a song of welcome, a song of invitation for all to come and celebrate their marriage. A simple melody, but one that set the tone - and Linnea would never tire of hearing him sing, whatever the reason for it. 

Once finished, he led her to the stairs, slowly descending to the table that had been prepared for them as the guests took their seats. The expectation was that the two of them would not stay seated for very long at once; they would move about the other tables to speak to the guests. The feast was presented in courses, and after each course, they would visit another group.

And they would also receive their gifts.

She had realized it only a few days ago, but of course there would be wedding gifts. And given that this was a royal wedding, they would likely be extravagant. She had shyly asked Gil-galad if there was any way they could request that gifts be foregone, but he had shaken his head. And she understood why; this was political too, just like the wedding itself.

Gil-galad seated her gracefully, keeping her hand in his as she took her chair. It had been plain to her from the start that he enjoyed these small courtesies of a husband: helping her from the saddle after a ride, giving her his arm when they walked together. And those things delighted her as well; small though they were, they added to the constant feeling of being loved, being cherished and cared for and protected.

Once she was seated, he sat beside her. They were the only two at the table, allowing for a few private moments while they ate. The wine had already been poured, and he raised his full glass in salute to the guests.

“Á tule! Mate ar suce merendesse.”

A rumble from the assembled group, everyone else raising their glasses as the first course was brought out and set before the guests. It was a light start, an arrangement of fresh sliced fruits and berries, and Linnea was grateful for it. Her stomach had settled slightly, and the sweet aromas tempted her.

But there was another small ritual that accompanied the food, and it was one she had looked forward to. Perhaps unreasonably so, but seeing it at other weddings had touched her heart in a way she could not explain. 

She picked up her fork, loading it with a small bite of the fruit, and turned to Gil-galad.

He was smiling, as he opened his mouth to receive the food. She carefully extended the fork and he took the bite, chewing and swallowing, and then repeated the exchange for her. The juice spread on her tongue, bursting with flavor. 

A bite from her plate for him, and one from his for her. A wedding ritual for commoners and royalty alike. Perhaps it was the symbolism that had always moved her so, that bride and groom would always care and provide for each other, putting each other first. And she knew that her own marriage would not always be so - she was marrying a King, she was going to be crowned queen. There would be times when the realm’s needs would have to come above their own. But seeing his smile, the love in his eyes, none of that seemed insurmountable.       

“Gi melin,” she murmured, once she had swallowed. 

He reached over, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips for a kiss. “Gi melin. Once again you render me speechless, rîn vuin. I shall have to find a better way to praise you than to call you beautiful.”

“When you discover it, I would be glad to know of it,” she smiled back. “For I am in need of such as well, aran vuin.”

He kissed her hand again, and perhaps it was for the best that they sat by themselves. She nearly laughed at the thought of others having to tolerate these words, these displays of affection. It was often so, at weddings - part of the joy in celebrating was to see and share in the couple’s love. But it felt more intense now than she had ever been part of, and perhaps that was simply because it was her love. Perhaps everyone felt this way, when it was their turn. 

It seemed no time at all before they had finished the fruit and were standing, walking arm-in-arm to the first of the tables, where the four commanders of the armies were seated. Once again, this had been carefully planned; the most important of the guests would be greeted later in the feast, corresponding with the main dishes. Yet there was still honor in being first, and the choice of the commanders was an acknowledgment of the storms that awaited them and the fights to come.

A long box lay on the table waiting. And after the greetings and wishes for happiness, Gil-galad opened the lid to find a matching pair of daggers resting on a bed of blue silk. They were fashioned expertly, sheathed in ivory leather, and the handles were chased with gold and silver. Beautiful, but also simple; there was no disguising that these were weapons of war. They were meant to be used.

The day that they had begun their journey to Lindon, Hellathas had - without comment - presented Linnea with a dagger to carry. It had been plainer than these, but no less a weapon for that. She had not had to use it, and had been relieved. Her hand, accustomed to shuttle and thread, did not know how to hold a blade. The dagger in the box - the smaller one, plainly meant for her - would feel foreign to her, she who had never had cause to go armed.  

But those thoughts tickled at her again, the reminder of her responsibilities as queen. The responsibility to defend not just herself, but the realm she and Gil-galad ruled.

She echoed the thanks he bestowed on the commanders, praising the skill and beauty of the craftsmanship, and took his arm again to return to their table, her thoughts astir.

A light vegetable soup for the next course, and a visit to the Lorien table, where Amdír and Amroth sat. Their gift was simpler than the daggers, but Linnea privately thought it was much lovelier; they had brought a set of wooden drinking bowls, carefully carved from tree burls and polished to a brilliant, smooth finish. She was on more solid ground here than she had been with the weapons; she lingered, examining and handling each of the bowls carefully. Gil-galad stood watching, smiling as she praised the work, and he chuckled as he nearly had to pull her away for the next course.

“Nán alassea alassetyanen,” he murmured, as they finally returned to their table. Your joy gives me joy.

The next course was fish, poached with wine, and accompanied by root vegetables. And afterward, the table of the Dwarves.

The guests had placed their gifts on their tables, and Linnea had been curious about this one. It was a wooden crate, large enough to where it was difficult to see Durin and Disa sitting behind it, taking up most of the table. It was simple; the shape gave no hint to what it contained. As they approached, the Dwarves stood, and came around to the front of the table to greet them. 

Disa spoke first, beaming as she curtseyed. “High King. My lady. May your marriage shine as bright as Aulë’s own forges.”

As she straightened, Linnea extended her hands, clasping the Dwarf princess’s. “We thank you, Princess Disa, and are honored by the presence of yourself and your lord husband.”

“Indeed,” Gil-galad murmured from beside her. “We look forward to continued goodwill between Lindon and Khazad-dûm.”

Durin cleared his throat, nodding. “There is much that is uncertain,” he rumbled. “As you well know, High King. Yet let our gift be an indication of the potential we see in friendship.”

Gil-galad raised a brow, and reached to open the crate. As he lifted the lid and set it aside, Linnea’s eyes widened.

It was ore. Silvery ore that shone with its own light, heaped in the crate. They had been given mithril. 

Linnea was no smith, but even she could tell that this quantity was vast. It would forge a full set of armor and to spare, or multiple weapons. And with that thought, she was struck by the political brilliance of the gift; something made by the Dwarves would have been difficult for the High King and Queen to accept and use, but the means to make it was entirely different.

Gil-galad looked as stunned as she felt. He reached into the crate, picking out a small piece of the ore. A hush fell over the guests as he raised it up, as everyone saw the light emanating from the depths of the metal.

“Lord Durin,” he murmured. “Your generosity honors us beyond words. This gift is indeed above mere friendship.”

“There's more,” Durin said. “We brought two others. Didn't want to break yer table with the weight.”

Linnea had to stifle a laugh. Gil-galad had shared the incident involving the stone table with her from when Durin had first visited Lindon; he had known the entire thing was a ruse, but had gone along with it as an investment in the future, a seed of friendship planted. 

“My bride and I give you our most humble thanks,” he said. “And we bid you enjoy our hospitality here in Lindon for as long as it pleases you to remain.”

“We depart in the morning, High King,” Disa said. “There is much that demands our attention at home. But perhaps you and your Queen would honor us with a visit one day.”

She had made the offer to Linnea the previous evening, after Tinnaril had left. The expression on her face had been shy - strange to see, on a Dwarf - but it had been honest, and hopeful. And Linnea had assured her that she had not overstepped, that she too would take pleasure in it. 

Gil-galad's face did not betray any of his thoughts, not even to Linnea; he merely inclined his head. “Perhaps,” he allowed. “If the King and Queen of Khazad-dûm wish it, such might indeed be possible.”

He had writ between his words, and it was clear enough as to his meaning. If Durin came to the throne, the friendship between the realms could continue. But it was contingent upon that, and perhaps would even serve as some encouragement to Durin. Seeds planted, indeed.

Gil-galad once again offered his arm to Linnea. As they moved away, back to their own table, she could see servants coming to retrieve the crate - and even they grunted at the effort to lift it.

“What will we do with it?” she whispered.

He looked down at her, his eyes dark. “I know not,” he murmured. “But I feel it should be kept until we are certain. Such a gift has a purpose, even if we do not know it yet.”

His words echoed her own thoughts, and she nodded. “We shall save it until the time is right. Our minds are as one in this, meleth nín.”

He smiled as they reached their table, once again gracefully seating her. “May it always be so, melethel. May it always be so.”

There were several more courses, each more delicious than the last, and in small portions to allow everything to be fully enjoyed. And between them, more gifts; it was an effort to keep track of them all, but Linnea was conscious of Adabes’ watchful eye in the background. She knew there would be a list the following day, precisely noting who had given what, to allow her to send letters of thanks after the wedding was over.

And at last, the final course was finished, a layered pastry confection that was so light it practically melted on the tongue. And the last table waited for them; they had saved Oropher and his family for the end, to allow their gift all the attention that it merited.

There was no box. It was a bundle of leather, placed on the table carefully. The Woodland Elves stood as they approached; Linnea fancied that Tinnaril’s gaze held a trace of warmth, but Oropher and Thranduil were stern and cold. They looked as though they might be twins, with their blond hair and distant eyes. 

“Gil-galad,” Oropher said. “Lady Linnea. Please accept this gift to celebrate your marriage.”

No flowery words; that was not Oropher’s way. Gil-galad had dealt with him enough to know that, and knew better than to push back. Instead, he simply nodded, and began unwrapping the leather. 

Just like the very first gift, it was a pair of matched weapons. But these were bows, both light and sturdy, made in the fashion of the Woodland Elves. Unadorned and yet beautiful; the grips were carved bone and wrapped in virgin leather, and the limbs were smooth and shining. Linnea did not know the wood by sight, but it was dark in color. 

One bow was smaller than the other. She reached out and lifted it free, and her hand curled around the grip in a perfect fit.

The daggers had not spoken to her. This did.

She felt Gil-galad's eyes on her, watching as she turned the bow back and forth. He had not touched his own bow, but he was smiling faintly as he looked at the one in her hands.

“It pleases you, melethel?”

She would need to learn to shoot it. There would be no lack of teachers among Lindon's warriors. And for the first time, the thought of having to fight did not fill her with trepidation; rather, it was a sense of pride, a sense of honor that she would do so for her realm. It was a responsibility that was hers to accept, and with the bow in her hands, she felt that she could accept it.

“Yes,” she breathed. “It does.”

She turned her gaze to Oropher, and bowed her head deeply to him. “We are honored by the workmanship of our Woodland kin, King Oropher. You have our gratitude.”

Oropher nodded at her, and then shifted his gaze to Gil-galad. “I hope you are not so preoccupied with your new bride that you cannot return to the Greenwood soon,” he murmured. “I await the continuation of our discussions. Especially given your queen’s acknowledgement of our craft.”

Inwardly, Linnea groaned. Oropher was proud, she knew that, and she saw the trap too late. The Woodland Elves were skilled, but the Noldor were more so, and it was a sore point for Oropher that his people were less well armed and armored than Gil-galad’s.

But Gil-galad did not rise to the bait; he simply lifted a brow a fraction of an inch. “If my queen is welcome to accompany me, we would be pleased to visit as soon as it is convenient.”

Oropher didn’t reply; he simply nodded once more and sat back down, and Tinnaril and Thranduil followed his lead.  

Do not fret, melethel. 

That candle lit back in her heart, even as Gil-galad turned from the table and extended his hand to her. Oropher is a slippery snake. But there is honor in him, and we will find our way to pin him yet. 

She took the extended hand with a wry smile. Your patience will outlast the stars, my love.

Perhaps in some things. But in others…no, my queen. I have spent these last hours growing more and more impatient.

The ceremony.

Now that the feast was finished, it was time.

He led her to the far end of the courtyard. The murmuring and conversation among the guests died down as they walked, their destination clear; a bower of flowers and vines had been set up for the ceremony. Elrond had seen their movement, and was already waiting there, his hands folded in front of him. He bowed as they approached, and offered Linnea a smile as he straightened up and stepped to the side.

They needed no priest or commander to officiate, as Men did. Their marriage was between the two of them. Silence fell over the courtyard; the only sound was the occasional chirp of the birds. Linnea turned to face Gil-galad, and he did the same, carefully taking both of her hands in his.

“Nál melme coivienyo,” he said simply. “Ma aþal vesta ninna?”

A tear welled in her eye, spilling down her cheek. She knew it would not be the first.

You are the love of my life. Will you marry me?

“Nál melme coivienyo,” she whispered back. “Aþa.”

He had known her answer, but he still smiled at it. His eyes shimmered, and closed briefly.

“Ta, nai Manwe Súlimo tiruva me, Ereinion ar Linnea, ar nai Eru Ilúvatar alyuva me.”

Then, may Manwe Lord of Wind watch over us, Ereinion and Linnea, and may Eru the Father of All bless us.

The invoking of Eru’s name sent a shiver up her spine.

“Ar nai Varda Tintalle hlaruva ellorlma, Linnea ar Ereinion, ar nai Eru Ilúvatar alyuva me.”

And may Varda Star-kindler hear our calls, Linnea and Ereinion, and may Eru the Father of All bless us.

The words were simple enough, but as they rolled off her tongue, she felt the power in them. It was similar to how it had felt walking to the clearing of the Yavannildi; the eyes of the Valar were upon them, and she could practically feel those gazes pressing against her skin. 

And a warmth, too. An approval of the love that filled the clearing. A feeling even greater than the sense of the Valar, a feeling that made her tremble in its power and its vastness.

But all that paled next to the look in Gil-galad’s eyes.

She could have beheld it until the sun set. But Elrond was coming forward, taking a small bundle of velvet from within his cloak, and that meant it was time for the exchange of rings. 

Once he reached them, he unfolded the velvet reverently, letting the two rings rest in his palm. They were plain bands, no jewels or engraving, just an unending circle of gold.   

Gil-galad went first, and Linnea couldn't help but marvel at his confidence. He took her hand and slipped the silver star off her finger, setting it back in the velvet that Elrond held, and then lifted the smaller of the two bands of gold. In another moment, it was resting cool on her finger, simple and pure. 

Her turn.

The betrothal ring slid off his finger easily, as if even it knew that its task was done. And the gold ring went on just as easily. It was the work of a few seconds at most, but even in that short time, that gold ring looked like it had always been there. Vilya itself was overshadowed.

Another tear welled up and spilled down her cheek. She saw his hand move, and a moment later, felt his warm palm cup her face. 

“Melethel,” he said softly. “I have something more for you.”

At that, she looked up, her eyes blurred from the tears. He smiled gently at her, and then tilted his head slightly so that his voice carried out to the guests. 

“On this our wedding day, I bestow a gift upon my new wife.” His words rang out clear, and even had the group been twice the size, no one could have failed to hear him. “For you, melda tarí, as a symbol of the light you have brought to my heart.”

She wasn't entirely surprised. Not after she'd revealed having a gift of her own. And she guessed he had adhered more to tradition, as he extended his hand to Elrond and the herald filled it with another small cloth-wrapped bundle. But she still lost her breath when he opened it.

It was a pendant, wrought of gold, on a golden chain. It was faintly oval in shape, but formed of swirls and curls, evoking the flames she'd thought of when she'd first seen the embroidery on his robes. But at the center of the swirls was a fire opal the size of the pad of her finger, glowing from within, and setting off glittering sparkles in its depths as the light struck it. 

She dragged her eyes from the jewel to Gil-galad's face, unable to speak.

“Calagûr,” he murmured. “May I?”

Calagûr. Heart-light. Linnea had never taken an epessë; not her, a simple weaver. But the word resonated in the air as Gil-galad spoke it, settling upon her shoulders like a cloak of her own. A name, and one that she would carry for the rest of her life; she knew that with utter certainty. 

In the face of it, all she could do was nod, and turn her back to him. His arms came around her, his hands deftly settling the pendant in place and maneuvering the chain beneath her curls. And once he hooked the clasp, the necklace settled into place just above her heart, and the gold was not cold, but as warm as if it had been in the sun all day. 

She turned back, and she met his eyes.

“Melda aran,” and her voice was soft; it was only for him. “Hantanyë tyen.”

It was the most thanks she could give at that moment, with everyone there; it would be most improper for her to grab him and kiss him as thoroughly as the gift merited. But she would do that later - and there was something else she could do now, something she'd been eager for ever since she had begun working with the brown wool her mother had woven.

She took a breath, raising her voice. “On this our wedding day, I bestow a gift upon my new husband,” she said. “For you, melda aran, the work of my hands, that you may feel me near even if we are apart.”

She saw him smile at her words. As Gil-galad had been putting the necklace on her, Elrond had discreetly slipped away, and now he was returning with a much larger bundle. The bulk of it filled Elrond's arms, the gold silk wrapping shining.

Gil-galad didn't look entirely surprised either, but of course she had told him she had a gift, and it would not take great wisdom to surmise that it was something of fabric. She accepted the bundle from Elrond and then extended it to Gil-galad, and he took it. He shifted it to one arm, using his free hand to unwrap it, and then the gold silk fell to the ground as he shook out the cloak.

Linnea had cut it with ample room, using every bit of the brown wool. There were pockets inside, reinforced and concealed within the lining, and the lining itself was of brown velvet. She had given it a deep hood as well; if the need was there, he could wrap himself in the cloak and draw the hood and be all but invisible. 

Even without touching it, she could feel her mother's work. Lhénes’ charms had held strong through the cutting and sewing, and the cloak hummed with them. 

And she herself had done more. His vision had stayed with her, of the brown sheep and the snow and the fiery heat of Sauron. Between the wool and the velvet, the cloak was warm and heavy, but she had embroidered charms into each of the seams and along the hem. Inside, protected by the lining so they would not snag or unravel, dozens of charms against fire and heat. He could not stand in the middle of a bonfire in the cloak - at least not for long. But it would buy a few moments, and it was often enough where even moments counted for much. 

She flattered herself that the cloak was pleasing to the eye, but it was a purposeful garment - its place was in war, not at a wedding. But Gil-galad cared nothing for that; he swirled the cloak around himself, draping it over his shoulders to try it on. The edge stopped just above where his feet would be; she had gauged his height well. He looked at the fabric where it hung over his chest, stroking his hand down it.

“It is as beautiful as its maker,” he said softly. “And wearing it will remind me of my wife's embrace. Thank you, melethel.”

She smiled, and bowed her head to him. He slung the cloak off and handed it to Elrond, and then extended his hands to her again. This was the final part of the ceremony, and she placed her hands back in his with no hesitation. Normally, they would speak these final words in Quenya just as they had done with their blessings, but out of consideration for their Dwarven guests, had agreed to do so in Common.

“What was two, is now one. Let all assembled see and know, that Ereinion Gil-galad and Linnea Calagûr are wed, now and forever.”

His voice was still soft, but again it carried. Linnea swallowed hard, her eyes fixed on his.

“What was two, is now one. Let all assembled see and know, that Linnea Calagûr and Ereinion Gil-galad are wed, now and forever.”

She wasn't certain that anyone had heard her, the words had come out so quiet and so choked. And her eyes were fixed on Gil-galad. But she heard the applause start - restrained and polite from the Elves, exuberant and joyful from the two Dwarves - and that was proof enough. 

And then Gil-galad leaned down.

It was a chaste kiss, a brief and gentle touch of lips. Appropriate for such a public setting. But she felt just the softest nibble, the briefest hint of the desire and the love behind the kiss, and she nibbled back just as quickly. 

It would do for now.

Continue to Part 13 - warning, contains smut!

Gil-galad's welcome song:

O Elvenkind

Come gather here in this place

The leaves are gold, the water flows

Come and bear witness to this union

The river runs, the birds sing

O Elvenkind!

Come on this, the day of our marriage

The grass is green, the sun is bright

Come and sing, come and celebrate

Come see us now as we pledge our love forevermore.

[smusherina]

bridges burnt - chapter 1 [epilogue series] (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: When an invitation to Gretchen Wieners' wedding ended up in your mailbox, you'd been sure it was a mistake. Only, it read your name in neat, swoopy calligraphy. It was addressed to you. And Regina George, whom you hadn't spoken to in years.

additional clarification: This is set in the universe of yard work, a series of mine that can be found on my page! Reading this one might be a bit challenging without the context of the series :)

very necessary note: Okay, fuck, it was supposed to be a one shot. Then I got excited. So have another freakin' Regina George series. Set in the same universe as yard work! Reading that provides some essential context, but you do you! I don't think it's unreadable without it. chapter 2

You adjusted your tie for perhaps the millionth time. It was a silky blue, befitting your navy suit. You fiddled with your cufflinks, silver like all your accessories, then pulled out the baby blue handkerchief to wipe down your glasses, then folded it pack into your pocket, then bent to redo your laces, then-

"For fuck's sake, the ceremony hasn't even started yet!" Amanda nudged you violently.

"Ow!" You hissed, elbowing her back. She slapped your knee, hard.

"Get yourself together." She glowered, pointing a manicured finger at your nose. "It's worse enough I have to be here at all. You're not gonna ruin this for me."

"You're here for the open bar and free food. I paid for the flights, the room, the car." You bit back. "I'm allowed to be nervous."

"There's nervous, then there's this." Amanda looked you up and down pointedly, noting your bouncing knee.

You squeezed at said knee, trying to calm down. Like you'd been trying to do since hours ago. No results so far.

"Look, buddy, it's just a wedding. You don't even really know her. I get you... Have a history with the bride, or whatever, but it's gonna be so fine."

"It's not Gretchen I'm worried about." You mumbled.

"Whoever. It's gonna be fine." Amanda said, flippant as ever. How she was so carefree all the time was mind-boggling to you.

"This place is filled with people from high school. God." You looked around. "That guy over there, don't look, with the receding hairline- I said don't look!"

"Be more specific, every man here has a receding hairline. The demographic is excruciatingly pallid."

"Shut up, girl," You shook your head but couldn't help but laugh. It was mostly white people here. "The one with the wife that looks exactly like him, unbelievably blonde, kinda mousy," You waited for her eyes to latch onto the man you were talking about. "He used to buy weed from me, like, every week, and then went around spreading rumours about me."

"Ungrateful." Amanda scoffed. "And look at him, a wife, child, and probably a 401k. That's how it goes for boys like them."

"Yeah." You sighed. "How's the salon doing, by the way?"

"Thriving. Thanks to you. But I worked my ass off." You lifted your arms in surrender. She had worked hard to keep the place afloat for as long as she had, so even if you hadn't invested she would've found a way.

Amanda cast you a meaningful look. "You're doing better than ever, aren't you? Financially speaking. How's everything else?"

"Well, y'know..." You shrugged. "It's complicated." You looked down. Amanda patted your knee, a sympathetic smile on her face.

"You got a nice suit, though." She pointed out.

"Oh, for sure. Look at these, custom cufflinks." You showed off the silver bits. "Do you think these rings are too much?"

"Don't you usually have an ungodly amount of them on?"

"I usually just have these three." On your right pinky was your Engineer's Ring. On your left thumb was an embroidered steel band and on the pointer of that same hand a ring with a big emerald embedded in a bed of crystals.

"It's not too much." Amanda took your hand and inspected the rings. "More like sexy." She grinned at you, all sorts of innuendo right on display.

You scoffed and turned towards the altar. The pews were getting fuller by the minute. You were sitting far enough from the front to show you weren't important but not too far as to hint you didn't want to be there. You were on the bride's side, though it didn't matter much. You didn't know Gretchen any better than her husband-to-be.

Amanda had come with you for moral support. You'd been roommates in college and you hadn't been able to shake her off since. She'd grown on you, though you often acted more begrudged than you felt. She'd helped you out a lot over the years.

She'd been there when you couldn't leave the dorms, trapped in the vicious clutches of paranoia. She'd been there helping you get back on your feet when dad's businesses started going, one by one, each more explosive than the last. She was there when you moved back to that little town in Illinois, where Northshore still stood.

You liked to think you'd been equally as integral to her, but that was perhaps a reach. She was fiercely independent, resourceful, and charming enough to make friends with anyone. When the first chance to help her came, you didn't hesitate to take it. She'd opened up her salon right after graduation, staying in New York while you moved back home, and had been doing well until now. Unexpected costs and a wicked plumbing bill had landed her in some hot water.

For the small price of one favour and eternal bragging rights, you'd shoved your newly acquired wealth at her. Dragging her to Vermont in October to attend Gretchen's wedding was you cashing in on that favour.

Eventually, the proceedings began. The groom and his men walked in with little fanfare, mild music playing as they went. Most faces you did not recognize, but there was one back of the head that seemed eerily familiar.

The groom, a classically handsome man, a boring prince type, went to stand at the altar. He had an expectant glimmer in his eye. At least Gretchen's taste in men had improved. Then again, anything beat the scrubs she'd used to keep around.

Behind the groom, his line of groomsmen settled, the best man fronting the crowd. The man of the hour was in a classic black tux while the others flanking him were dressed in different shades of brown. The whole shebang was sort of beige with a little bit of burnt orange thrown in. Amidst the shades of umber, russet, and sepia, stood a familiar face.

Aaron Samuels. You didn't have much time to agonize about him being here before the bridesmaids were stepping through the aisle. Similar dresses but in lighter shades, clearly made to match a certain groomsman. You didn't recognize any of them.

The maid of honour was a little odd. Her makeup seemed to be a lot thicker on one side, like there were several layers of foundation caked on. Her eye makeup on that side was a little heavy also, but she was past you by the time you could wonder why.

"The maid of honour totally has a black eye," Amanda whispered to you.

"No way," You hissed back, trying to get an angle where you could see her face. As she settled in place, facing the pews, even moderately far away you could see that, yeah, she totally was covering up a black eye. Wild bachelorette party, then.

Coos and aws resounded through the church as the flower girl and the ring bearer came toddling down. A little girl, cheeks all red, and looking like she wanted to be anywhere else, and a slightly older boy with an almost manic look in his eye. The girl was in no mood to be tossing petals, so the boy reached into her basket and threw a big fistful of them in the air. The rings rolled off of their pillow but found their way back.

"Oops," The boy said, smiling sheepishly right as the photographer came in to capture the moment. Chuckles echoed through the space.

By the time they reached the end of the aisle, the little girl was dutifully carrying the pillow on which the rings were and the boy was joyously tossing flower petals everywhere. As god intended.

Then came the bride. Escorted by her father, who was beaming with a mouth full of veneers, Gretchen Wieners made her appearance.

It wasn't disappointment that you felt. Not relief, either. It was hard to describe. You'd been expecting anger or some catharsis. This was the person who'd outed you to your whole school, who'd been the catalyst to the worst year of your life, why didn't you feel more?

High school had been over for almost ten years. You carried scars, deep ones that still ached on bad days but at the end of the day, they were just scars. You were doing better than ever. Gretchen had been a bully, had brought you to ruin once upon a time, but who was to say it couldn't all be built again?

You smiled. She looked beautiful. A white dress, a long veil, hair done big, bigger and more grandiose than you'd ever seen, and looking like, well, a bride.

You'd moved on. Considering how she'd invited you too, and knowing Gretchen she was acutely aware of every person in attendance, she had moved on too. You could recognize an olive branch when one was given to you.

That didn't explain the invitation, though. Maybe it was a mistake. Gretchen wasn't known for making those, but she was human too. Right?

"Look, they're totally enthralled by each other. You're gonna be fine." Amanda whispered, ignoring the elderly lady seated next to her shooting daggers through her eyes at you two.

"Yeah. It's gonna be fine."

Notes: Got really ill at the beginning of this week, which delayed this chapter quite a bit. You don't realize quite how awesome breathing is until you can't do it properly. Getting better slowly, it's nothing serious, but the cough is lingering. It is what it is.

This chapter was mostly setting up the narrative, no Reggie and Jorts interactions as of yet. I'm not making any promises because I'm so shit at keeping them, but hoping that this series will be shorter than the original one.

Taglist posted seperately!