#Wedding Invitation Collection

[llovelymoonn]

favourite poems of july

knar gavin strindberg grey

dahlia ravikovitch the love of an orange (tr. chana bloch)

danez smith summer, somewhere

hannah gamble your invitation to a modest breakfast: “your invitation to a modest breakfast”

claire schwartz lecture on the history of the house

joseph brodsky collected poems in english, 1972-1999: “a part of speech”

ralph angel twice removed: “alpine wedding”

bob hicok insomnia diary: “spirit ditty of no fax-line dial tone”

caleb klaces language is her caravan

philip good & bernadette mayer alternating lunes

hester knibbe light-years (tr. jacquelyn pope)

tracy k. smith life on mars: “the universe as primal scream”

rigoberto gonzález other fugitives and other strangers: “the strangers who find me in the woods”

stephen edgar murray dreaming

james schuyler other flowers: uncollected poems: “light night”

amy beeder because our waiters are hopeless romantics

diane seuss backyard song

tomás q. morín love train

safiya sinclair the art of unselfing

carol muske-dukes skylight: “the invention of cuisine”

peter gizzi the outernationale: “vincent, homesick for the land of pictures”

william matthews selected poems and translations, 1969-1991: “onions”

c.k. williams butcher

mark mccloskey the smell of the woods

jennifer chang the age of unreason

richard blanco city of a hundred fires: “contemplations at the virgin de la caridad cafeteria, inc.”

bob hicock the pregnancy of words

j. allyn rosser impromptu 

carl phillips then the war

stephanie young ursula or university: “essay”

gloria e. anzaldúa the new speakers

kofi

[noirandchocolate]

Since it literally is (my) Master Kohga's Ascension Day today, thought I'd do up a headcanon post about this very important Yiga Clan celebration!

Ascension Day marks the day when the current Master officially took the position. It can be any day of the year, since of course a Master can die (or be ousted, rarely) any time and their Heir (or other successor) could complete their trials any time after that. Current Kohga's day being the first day of Spring in Hyrule is a pure coincidence. (I SWEAR I will tell my Hyrule calendar headcanons someday!)

It's called "Ascension" Day, and a new person taking up the mantle of Master is referred to as "ascending,” for the same reason the Master position is associated with firebirds as I've previously stated. The Clan practices cremation as a funerary rite and there is always a successor one way or another. From the ashes of one comes the next. (Kohga declaring "From my handsome ashes we will rise again!" when you defeat him in AoC and calling himself "The strong! The Depths-defying! From the ashes rising!" in TotK are allusions to this/the basis for this headcanon. He's so dramatic.)

This is THE event for the Clan every year. They have plenty of other festivals, to mark the seasons and for remembering ancestors for example, but Ascension Day is THE THING. Which means everybody's involved, everybody attends unless it's absolutely impossible (such as being on a mission where you literally cannot safely leave in time to get back to the Valley or be gone long enough to make the trip). It's not that you'll get in trouble for missing it or anything. It's just...it's very important to them.

The occasion begins in the late morning with a ceremony wherein the Master restates their oath to lead and protect their people, and everyone in their sixteenth year or older makes or remakes their own pledge to serve the Clan under the Master and work for the good and goals of the Yiga. There are also prayers to the ancestors for the health and well-being of the Master and the safety of the whole group. This is the serious part of the day.

Particularly on a brand-new Master's very first Ascension Day, where they actually become Master Kohga, this is a solemn rite. This is when the Heir/successor first dons their new uniform and trades their old mask for the Master's style. After this moment, their name is Master Kohga. They make their first oath, and take on all the responsibility and duty that being Master entails. And it marks the transfer of the other Yiga's loyalty onto this new individual. Plus, after all... As much as becoming Master is something to be proud of, this first day especially is a reminder of what is very very often the loss of a parent or other family member.

But then, once that serious part is over... It's time for a big celebration! THE BIGGEST part of which is...THE GLORIOUS PRESENTATION OF THE MASTER'S MIGHTY DEEDS!! This is a play! Commemorating--you guessed it--the current Master's great actions since their ascension! And also historic deeds of previous Masters Kohga! The particularly amazing stories get repeated a lot--at least one prior Master's scene is chosen to be performed each year, depending on how many very memorable things the current Master has done that need to be included. Always, all Masters being depicted are portrayed by the current one. (They play themself and any other Master, in other words, depending on the scene.)

A Master's first Ascension Day marks the final time an entire Presentation is done to specifically honor and feature their immediate predecessor. As in, when Best Guy Kohga ascended, he performed as his father, showcasing all Daddy Kohga's most important moments as Master, before switching to act as himself for the final scenes, depicting a montage of his own trials to take the reins of the Clan. Some of his dad's scenes might be chosen to be performed in the future, but that's the last time it was all about him. The same went for Dad portraying his mother at his own first Ascension Day, and Nana portraying her father. And on and on down the ages since this tradition of a Presentation began, several thousand years ago. This is, of course, a bittersweet and deeply meaningful thing for most new Masters, to have the honor of embodying their beloved family member (or friend or mentor, etc.) on stage.

The play features very dramatic and stylized acting, and big ornate over the top costumes. Some actors will magically disguise themselves as the characters they play, and are able to perform multiple roles in the same year very seamlessly using this technique. Others will use practical costuming and masks to become monsters and vivid makeup to enhance their Looks as various characters (to be seen well by the whole audience!).

(The Presentation is not quite in the exact same acting style as real-world kabuki theater, but the Clan having associations in their designs from this art form is the basis for this headcanon. The use of popular and famous scenes featuring favorite characters/dramatized people from history, and big roles being handed down through families, are also traditions in kabuki. However unlike in kabuki, participation isn't restricted to men and the acting is a bit more natural even if it is still pretty bombastic at times. Among other differences.)

The selection of scenes and writing of new ones is a job undertaken by the Clan's historians and chroniclers, who are responsible for keeping track of Masters' deeds as they occur, plus their mannerisms, personalities, and similar things that will help future actors to portray them. Of course, the Master themself will usually assist with developing new scenes. Current Kohga, being a rather theatrical and artsy guy, definitely gets involved with writing his own lines a lot. <3

The Presentation is performed outdoors, in the area by the chasm like most of the Clan's big festivals are, with a stage moved out in pieces and put together each year for the purpose. There are appropriate sets that can be quite impressive, from nature scenes to town streets to mountains etc.!

There are also big puppets used to portray larger monsters like Molduga--always a favorite target since slaying one solo is one of the trials to become Master--and creatures like dragons. Multiple people (often Blademasters for the largest of these) will work together to move these about the stage. Some of them are covered in paper and are lit up like lanterns from inside to create a glowing effect. The Yiga are quite good at special effects and illusions to really entertain!

The biggest and most impressive of these half-mechanical, half-lantern constructions is one portraying Calamity Ganon itself, which always makes an appearance amid sparkler fireworks and malice-colored fog. This is usually the very last scene in a year's Presentation, to end on a reaffirmation of the Clan's hopes that the monstrosity will destroy the Royal Family and kingdom, achieving the vengeance the Yiga have striven for. Of course, in my post-Calamity AoC-verse, at the first Ascension Day since the Clan abandoned and helped defeat Ganon...that scene was changed quite a bit to put it mildly.

Indeed, that special Ascension Day also marked the first time the Clan EVER opened its doors to a large group of outsiders, namely the Champions, Princess, their respective retinues, and some prominent Sheikah, and it was done to allow these people to view the Presentation and take part in the party times afterward. This was Sooga's idea, meant both as a gesture to augment trust from the Clan's new allies/trading partners, and as a demonstration that the Clan are a living, breathing culture unto themselves with a rich history and traditions. Kohga readily agreed, and also thought that perhaps bringing these people to the Complex would also help the Yiga, too, to accept the unprecedented alliance he'd forged beyond what was strictly necessary to defeat Ganon (which obviously went against a huge amount of what the Clan had always stood for--Koh was concerned that he'd be seen as a traitor by at least some of the Yiga/his ancestors despite his clear motive to keep everyone safer and avenge their fallen, but...his instincts proved correct and he's been almost universally lauded as a hero to his people for doing what he did).

That said, the Clan ended up having a lot of fun hosting and showing off with their pyrotechnics and spot-on impersonations of their most famous guests. Urbosa reportedly got a real kick out of seeing Kohga perform as an over-the-top version of herself in the scene depicting his Of Course Very Ingenious infiltration into Gerudo Town. The actors playing Link and Zelda were among the first to approach their characters' real-life counterparts after the show, too, and to invite them into a dancing circle...

Because post-Presentation, there's some time for cleanup and outfit changes before a HUGE PARTY commences back outside! Food! Dancing! Music (often led by Kohga on two shamisen if he's feeling feisty)! A bonfire! Poetry competitions! Drinking! Games! (Yeah you might remember this sounding similar to my post about the after-party at marriage ceremonies...the Clan does parties RIGHT.)

These kinds of festivals are all about bonding among the Yiga, and Ascension Day is a prime example of this. Gathering around the fire with friends and family groups to shout more calls to past Masters one particularly admires or remembers fondly is something particular to this occasion. It's all about Master Kohga on Ascension Day...but that means it's all about the whole Clan, since the Master's role is equally to serve as it is to be served. <3

[unopenablebox]

im making a wedding guest list in order to. uh. destress. from work anxiety. (we are not officially engaged yet in that we are waiting for our rings to arrive sometime this month and also do not even a little have a wedding date and have not figured out a budget yet. so it's a very stupid exercise. but. i can do whatever i want)

anyway im beginning to worry that i only have two friends? i suppose it's actually good because that will cost less but possibly i have some kind of disease or condition

[jclovely]

THE BEST IS YET TO COME...📯👑🕎✝️🕊🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏📯

FOR THOSE WAITING FOR A MIRACLE, PRAY AND HAVE FAITH, THE LORD SEES AND HEARS AND COLLECTS ALL YOUR TEARS.

LAST NIGHT PRAYER MEETING WITH PASTOR JD FARAG, SUCH A NEW REVELATION ON THE FIRST MIRACLE OF OUR LORD JESUS CHRIST. LISTEN AND BE ENCOURAGED.

JOHN CHAPTER 2

Water Turned to Wine

2 On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. 

2 Now both Jesus and His disciples were invited to the wedding. 

3 And when they ran out of wine, the mother of Jesus said to Him, “They have no wine.”

4 Jesus said to her, “Woman, what does your concern have to do with Me? My hour has not yet come.”

5 His mother said to the servants, “Whatever He says to you, do it.”

6 Now there were set there six waterpots of stone, according to the manner of purification of the Jews, containing twenty or thirty gallons a piece. 

7 Jesus said to them, “Fill the waterpots with water.” And they filled them up to the brim. 

8 And He said to them, “Draw some out now, and take it to the master of the feast.” And they took it. 

9 When the master of the feast had tasted the water that was made wine, and did not know where it came from (but the servants who had drawn the water knew), the master of the feast called the bridegroom. 

10 And he said to him, “Every man at the beginning sets out the good wine, and when the guests have well drunk, then the inferior. You have kept the good wine until now!”

11 This is the beginning of the signs Jesus did in Cana of Galilee, and manifested His glory; and His disciples believed in Him.

MORE ON THE MIRACLE IN CANA......WATER HAS A CLEANSING, THE LORD IS THE LIVING WATER OF LIFE ALSO WHY 6 POTS????? 6 REPRESENTING THE SITXH DAY WHEN MANKIND WAS CREATED AND WHY 30 GALLONS A PIECE, REMEMBER FOR OUR REDEMPTION FROM SIN, THE LORD JESUS CHRIST WAS SOLD FOR 30 PIECES OF SILVER AND WHY THE FIRST MIRACLE IS AT THE WEDDING IN CANA???? BECAUSE WE ARE INVITED TO THE LAST WEDDING MIRACLE IN HUMAN HISTORY, THE MARRIAGE OF THE LAMB OF GOD WITH HIS BRIDE THE CHURCH OF BELIEVERS IN HIM.

ALSO DO NOTICE....

According to the Bible, the first city conquered by the Israelites was Jericho, which was located in Canaan. This event is described in the Book of Joshua.

CANA a derivative of CANAAN. NO COUNCIDENCES WITH THE LORD THE FIRST WILL BE LAST AND THE LAST WILL BE FIRST.

MARANATHA

📯👑📯

🇮🇱👑🙏

🙏💖🌺🦋🕎✝️👑🇮🇱🕊📯🪔🧡

[vampireknitting]

Why must project give anxiety?

[double-dare-designs]

New Wedding Collection

Tri-Fold Invitation

https://www.zazzle.com/z/ajbkz3vs?rf=238828267405258083

[sasyallgraphics]

**🌸 Unveiling the Magic: Zazzle Wedding Invitations 🌸**

*Dear Brides-to-Be,*

So, you've found your lobster, your partner in crime, your forever dance partner. The stars have aligned, and you're ready to shout from the rooftops, "We're getting hitched!" But wait, there's a tiny detail—the wedding invitations. Fear not, my lovelies! Zazzle is here to sprinkle some fairy dust on your paper dreams. 💌✨

*1. The Countdown Begins: When to Choose Your Design**

Picture this: You, in a sun-drenched room, sipping chamomile tea, surrounded by wedding magazines and Pinterest boards. The clock is ticking, and you're about to embark on the grand quest for the perfect wedding invitations. Fear not, for Zazzle has your back! 🕰️🌼

*Timeline Tango*: Experts say to send invites 2-4 months before the big day (earlier if it's a destination wedding or during peak season). So, channel your inner Hermione Granger and choose your design 4-8 months in advance. Trust me, it's like planting a seed that'll bloom into a floral wonderland. 🌷🌿

*Sample Extravaganza*: Zazzle lets you order samples—yes, multiples!—to touch, feel, and swoon over. It's like speed dating for invitations. Swipe right on the one that makes your heart skip a beat! 💖

*2. The Palette of Love: Picking Colors and Themes**

Close your eyes. Imagine your wedding day. Is it a boho garden affair? A glam soirée? Or perhaps a rustic barn dance? Your invitations are the opening act, the teaser trailer. So, let's talk colors and themes:

*Color Crush*: Start with a couple of hues you adore. Maybe it's blush pink and sage green (hello, springtime romance!). Research how these colors can weave through your day—flowers, bridesmaid dresses, cocktails. Zazzle's got all the palettes, from vintage chic to beachy vibes. 🎨🌸

*Theme Park*: Are you a glam goddess or a barefoot bohemian? Zazzle's theme options are like a treasure chest: classic, rustic, whimsical, you name it. Your invites whisper, "Hey, guests, get ready for the magic!" 🌙🌟

*3. DIY Diva: Design Your Own Invitations*

Feeling artsy? Zazzle's design tool is your enchanted wand. Wave it, and voilà! Here are some tips for your DIY masterpiece:

*The 5 W's*: Who, What, Where, When, Why. Answer them like a pro. "Dear beloved unicorns, join us under the moon for cake and cosmic dances!" 🦄🌙

*Minimalism Magic*: Keep it clean, darling. Only the essentials. If you've got more to spill, create a wedding website or an extra card. Less is more, like a unicorn's wink. 😉✨

*Font Finesse*: Two fonts—elegant script and a simple one for details. It's like pairing your favorite shoes with a killer dress. Flawless! 👠👗

*4. The Grand Reveal: Your Invitations Shine**

As you hold those invites, remember—they're more than paper. They're whispers of love, promises of dance floors, and confetti-filled dreams. Your guests will feel it too. 🌿💕

So, my fellow daydreamers, let's twirl in moonlight, sip stardust, and raise our glasses to love. Zazzle's got your back, and your invitations? They're the opening chords of your love song. 🎶🌸

Visit my Zazzle store for invitations and stationery:

https://www.zazzle.com/store/sasyall

https://www.zazzle.com/collections/shabby_chic_pastel_wood_wedding-119996398837755678

https://www.zazzle.com/collections/goth_floral_teal_and_gold_wedding-119036376582860379

https://www.zazzle.com/collections/goth_black_and_gold_wedding-119720493130624874

[randomfusilier]

me: collecting baseball cards

friends and family: but you hate baseball, you will talk at length about how much you dislike baseball, the concept, the rules, everything

me:

[tojisteddy]

II HANDS II HEAVEN

or: getting married to Country!Simon wasn’t as easy as you thought it’d be.

“baby I’ve been waiting my whole life, for you and I.”

a part 2 to ruthless.

cw: 6.4k words, 18+ mdni, a lot of plot with smut at the end, Country!Simon, au universe, no use of y/n, fake southern town names, lovey dovey sex, mating press, p in v, creampie, masturbation, against the wall, some of your cousins are shitty, engaged!reader (to Simon), age gap (Simon is 29, reader is 23), pussy pronouns, mentions of religion, lucky!reader

a/n: it’s really been a short amount of time but I thought a part two would be right. I hope you like it. Also won’t make sense without reading the first, sorry. I like building plot.

Simon Riley learned early in your already quick relationship, that you were headstrong.

You’d come downstairs of the house, wobbly legged and doe eyed after he fucked you into the mattress with absolute promises of getting you two married and soon, in nothing but a sheet covering you. And the blonde was sure you there was cum dripping your sore cunt, a smirk danced on his lips as he lifted the coffee cup to his lips.

“I wanna get married in a church.” Your voice was horse as ever, scratchy but you’d sounded so deadset. Knee deep in certainty.

Simon simply gave you a nod, “sure thing lucky.”

“And I don’t want a big fancy wedding, something small. A little quaint.”

“Perfect,” He hummed.

“And I want to get married after my graduation so my family can come.”

“If that’s what you want.”

You laugh nervously, yanking the sheet you almost dropped up and scratching the back of your neck with the other, “A-And it’s my first time gettin married so- so I’m a bit nervous.”

“ ‘S my first time too.” You could’ve melted from his southern accent alone, he set his mug down on the counter and stepped towards you. Cupping your face in his hands, precious girl, “let’s take our time so you can have the perfect weddin, alright?”

You gave a bashful nod, you two meeting half way to kiss each other and laughed. Pretty sweet.

Loving you was so easy. Too easy. You were the sunshine after the storm, a good balance to whatever mess that Simon saw himself as. You were sweet, loved all the animals he had, listened attentively when he spoke about the farm and he did the same for you. Hearts practically growing in his eyes as you talked about your life, your friends and the things you loved what you wanted the most.

You’d decided to have a June wedding, eager to be a June bride above anything. Waiting another year to have some big wedding wasn’t something either of you wanted. You’d settled on the chapel an hour out in Millbrok, your colors would be baby blue and sage, you’d have a small wedding and then a reception under some tents next to the church.

Your mother and father were genuinely shocked, you, their daughter who refused to settle for anything, eager to feel the breeze in your wings, first to move out at 18 (and not on a college campus) was actually settling. And with Simon Riley at that. But they accepted it, felt in their guts that he was a good person for you. Your mother and father themselves had a quick marriage since they fell pregnant with your older sister, they didn’t have much room to tell you, you were wrong.

And if all went to shit, they’d come and scoop you up. And beat Simon’s ass in the process. Your father assured the older twenty year old of that. Simon swallowed the fear down.

“Who are you invitin Ms.— I mean future Mrs. Riley?” Soap asked you after you properly handed him his wedding invitation. Simon was off, collecting another stray horse that was disturbing John Price’s cattle. Soap was one Simons farm hand, he was his top man. A good guy, a little wild. You’d met him one night out dancing and he drove you home. Simon had casually told him from the doorframe, right as your cowboy boots hit the front porch, that you two were getting married and that he should finally get himself a proper tie.

Simon slammed the door shut once he got you inside while you mouth was wide an agape. “Why did you tell him like that?! He’s probably shocked!”

The blonde scuffed, pulling your boots off himself and lifting you to take you to bed, “Idiot won’t believe it till I say it a second time either way.”

And then right on que, there was howls of laughter that came from the brunette. “There ain’t no way on gods good earth you, Ghost, of all people, is gettin married!”

But then he came the next day, for work. And there you were saying your goodbyes because you had just a couple days before graduation. And Soap’s sharp eyes caught it, a fresh, a round cut diamond with a traditional gold band ring on your finger.

“You two- Shoot- You two really gettin hitched, ain’tcha?”

And you beamed, glowing even more than you already had from not just the sun glowing off your brown skin but Simon fucking you silly as a proper send off, squeezing at Simons larger hand.

“Of course, and soon!”

Johnny was more than happy for the two of you, somehow snagging your number from Simon’s phone so bombard you with questions Simon wouldn’t answer. He was a funny guy, a golden retriever. You’d warmed up to him perfectly in Simons eyes.

You couldn’t help the heat that grew on your face, “Well,” you practically sung, “my mom and dad, my five siblings, my grandparents from up north and those aunts ’nd uncles and then my family from down here. I���m pretty sure I can get one of my cousins to cater the reception for us so it really won’t cost much—“

“—Your family from here? From Pinewood?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Just-“ Soap clears his throat, hesitant, “Just the folks in Pinewood, your folks included— they just- They ain’t the kindest to Ghost, especially with his family- you know… Think you should be weary of ‘em, is all I’m sayin.”

Pinewood was the town Simon, Johnny and your family were from. You always knew someone’s family, had the essentials; a bank, a grocery store or two, a library, post office, mayors office, police department a dollar store, a few salons and barber shops, a bakery, a bridal store, and few town known restaurants and bars— a small town. A little too small, that seemed to dunk of Ghost for being. That would change.

You’d make sure of it.

You’d all be family soon enough, they’d have to understand.

You were ambitious of sorts— and most of the time, you stuck the landing after your rushed dismount. When you learned how to properly ride a horse and kicked Ace, a wild thing, too hard, and you went flying full speed down the road— you managed to get a hold of him just fine. When Simon taught you to carve by hand and you almost cut your thumb clean off 4 times, you finally got the hang of it, and made that crooked and polished bowl for your keys at the front door.

Other times, not so much.

The chickens had a weird beef with you, and you forgot to feed the horses on time leading to the ranches whole schedule being off. Or when Ace really did send you flying and you almost broke your fucking arm and neck.

Giving out your wedding invitations would be just like that.

Simon properly told you that, that night on the porch after dinner. Rocking in one of the hand crafted rocking chairs he made, he’d call you over with a sigh, ‘lil girl come ‘ere!’ Like he always did. And you came, now in one of his shirts, with those damn invitations in hand. Already knowing what he was going to say. But you waved him off.

“They just don’t get you like I do Mr. Riley.”

That’s a given. But it didn’t mean others would understand you, a hopeful city girl from a loving family, marrying the likes of him. A cursed man, from a more than broken family, a tarnished name he was trying to rebuild with new foundations, with his own ghosts wandering around.

He’d known your family from down here. Some of them were understanding, like your mother and grandmother but there were others. Hypocritical bitches, who’d go to church on Sunday, sing the church hymns and preach about loving and caring for one another and then curse down the neglected and those who didn’t fit in the box on Monday. Real righteous alright.

But you had that look on your face, big brown eyes, bottom lip sticking out and eyes full of pride— begging him to let you invite them yourself. Practically stabbing him in the heart with cuteness.

He sighed, “Fine, you do what you want.”

You grinned, wrapping his arms around his neck tightly and kissing his cheek, you’d kill him at this rate, “Thank you Si! Let me go call ‘em so we can have lunch! Ugh, it's been so long!”

And you practically ran off into the house, leaving Simon alone in the rocking chair. All the more worried about you.

••●••

You’d looked pretty, almost too pretty to let Simon let you leave the ranch to go talk to a bunch of high strung, stuck up people. Curls perfectly defined in a side part, a long white skirt, a red croquette milk maid top, with necklaces on your neck and all your ear piercings in, a white wedges heels, plump lips beautifully glossed. God, he could’ve lifted that damn skirt and fucked your right then and there.

Simon’s hands hung low on your hips and then lower, squeezing your ass. “Oh, come on Simon! you can’t feel up on me like that! You’ll wrinkle my skirt!” You playfully whined, pushing at his shoulder.

“Fuck the lunch, just stay here with me. We got food here too.”

“Though I’d love that, I already promised with my cousins. Plus,” you give a little point, “your workers are watching,” you keened, pointing over to the men and women a couple yards away, leaning against the horse corral with smirks. Whistling and catcalling away.

“God damn it.” He groans, hands going back to your waist. His ears turned bright red under his cowboy hat at you gushed, fuckin adorable, kissing each of them. And he pulls away, just a little bit to get a good look at you and then pulls you against his chest, putting his head in the crook of your neck, sniffing. He should’ve told you no.

He grumbles, “don’t let them talk to you crazy now. I’ll come ‘nd give them a talkin to.”

“I can do it on my own! It’ll be fine!”

Bless your little heart.

You loved your cousins. And you thought they loved you too. Teeny (Tina) and Gabriella, both a little older than you but you spent so much time playing together whenever there was a family reunion or when you came to see the family. You just knew they’d be the perfect bridesmaids, in fact, you and Teeny were Gabriella’s bridesmaids at her wedding a few years back. You were like sisters.

You had fun catching up with them face to face, your heart pounding more and more. Wanting to find the perfect time to tell them the big news.

Gabriella gave you an all but knowing look, smirking, “Don’t tell me you got more excitin news to tell [+]. You never take a break, do you?”

“Naw, do tell! I wanna hear it all about that city life! Oh! Don’t tell me! You’re gettin yer masters or some shit?! Marryin a big top lawyer?!” Teeny claps her hands with excitement.

You let out a breath, “Sort’ve. Actually it’s somethin a little closer to here as of the last two months.” You reach in your bag, pulling the two cards out and handing them each one.

“I-I’m getting married and you’re all invited! Hopefully you’ll be my bridesmaids!” You squealed, handing out the little invitations. “Well it’s for you and your spouses, and I plan on telling Aunt Julie and ‘nem soon enough. It’s in June! Just like we all talked about!” And you spent so much time picking those invitations out, making sure the signatures of your names together were perfect. Yours practiced and did the calligraphy yourself, the cards were perfect. The picture of you and Simon’s hands on it were perfect, the sage and baby blue bows that held the cards were perfect— so you were hoping for more squeals, more excitement, tears of happiness.

You were met with the exact opposite.

Confusion, disgruntlement— vexation.

“Yer marryin… that Ghost boy?” Gabriella blinked slowly, after a few moments of silence.

“Yes? And It’s Simon, not Ghost,” you corrected with a nervous giggle, waving them off. The nickname was stupid to you, Simon never corrected people when they called him that. Even though the name was making fun of him for simply being, for not dying with the rest of his family and that tragic fire. You’d always made it a point to correct people though, especially when Simon wasn’t there and wouldn’t tell you to just let them talk. Especially when it was with people who were supposed to be family saying it.

“A-Aren’t you happy for me?” You’d felt small, a little lost. This was a happy union. Both your grandmothers said that, your grandfather, your mom and your dad, aunts and uncles and cousins from up north supported you. Most would be at the wedding. Your siblings were a little protective and so were your best friends (all in their own right) but they’d get over it soon enough they’d see how well Simon treated you. How much you truly loved each other. Why was it hard for your cousins down here to understand?

“How could we be happy for you when you’re marryin a man like that [+]?” Teeny spoke, handing the invitation back to you.

“That boy might as well be a demon, [+]. Yer settin yourself up for failure.” Gabriella adds.

“You shut your fuckin mouths.” You cursed, just below a whisper. Why were they being so hateful- so- so—

“—We’re tryin t’protect you! His father was a bastard who terrorized folks ‘round here, who knows what that man’ll do to you! Might do to this town.”

Teeny nods, “He even killed his family—“

“—That ain’t fuckin true Teeny, why would you say that?” Your lip quivered, almost slumping in your seat.

“Oh come on [+], one of those rumors got to be true now. Somebody ain’t lyin. That man barley talks!”

“Cause y’all talkin ‘bout ‘em like this! Why would he want to say shit that’ll fall on deaf ears?!” Your ears were practically ringing at their words. How could they? How dare they?

“Fucks sake [+]! I can't go to no weddin were I gotta watch you marry someone— someone so sinful! Hes got bad energy ‘round him ‘nd suckin you up right with ‘em! You’re still a child. Just don’t know any better.” Gabriella shook her head.

“Then don’t fuckin come! I wanted you there cause you’re my family, clearly that ain’t the fuckin case!” You snatched yourself up, harshly standing from the table with a screech of your chair.

“My grown and adult marriage will be the best fuckin thing and love filled marriage this shitty fuckin town full of gossiping cunts that think they’re holier than thou, has ever laid eyes on! You got the fuckin gall to talk about Simon when he’s nothin but kind and polite to everyone he interacts with, and cares about the stupid fucking town to help with their stupid horses they don’t know shit about! Can’t say the fuckin same for your fuckin wife Gabriella, who’s cheatin on you with Lisa-Ann Cambridge and Yolanda Peterson! All the while, trynna uproot people who’s been here for decades through gentrification!”

Your eyes are frantic darting from both of your cousins and then you point, fuming, “And you, Teeny, supposed to be a future preachers wife, but here you are judging and cursing down folks when you don’t even know ‘em! Haven’t even bothered to check on ‘em! It ain’t fuckin God like, and the likes of you will end up in fuckin hell before the fuckin word reaches anywhere near that man, God be my fuckin witness!”

Your chest heaves up and down fast, rummaging through your purse and throwing whatever bills on the table.

“Now you two have the day you fuckin deserve! I’m gonna go be the best damned fiancée there ever was!”

And you leave out the diner to the bright and sunny day, the diner filled with whispers and disapproving glares.

••●••

You’d couinsidently ended up in a bar, wanting to just have a little something to ease your troubles. Sadly enough, you ended up in your cousins bar. Gaz, to be exact. He saw you walk in, passing by the drunks who also were in at 1 pm and you plopped yourself down at the bar stool.

“How can I help ya cous’, what’re you doin here?” He asked while whiping off the counter, an amused look written on his face.

You sniffed, looking up at him, huffing, “Don’t start with me Kyle.”

“I ain’t start nothin,” he sets the rag down and throws his hands up, “Just, the family group chats gon crazy cause of you.”

You groaned, practically slamming you head down on the bar counter, “I know that, just shut up!”

It’s not like you meant to do that. Yell and tear everyone in that diners ear off. You were just tired. Tired of them being bullies. Tired of them not understanding that you were marrying someone that you so deeply loved.

You weren’t asking for their permission, you were telling them.

For them to out right reject it was just wrong. You didn’t think they’d blab their loud fucking gums in the 50+ family Facebook group chat. Now, you had cousins, aunts and uncles from all over wondering what the hell you were doing. Blowing your mom and dads phone up. Then they were in turn, blowing your phone up. All of which, you declined.

“I’m marryin him Gaz. I’m not backin out.” You rested your head in your hands, taking the napkin Gaz had set down for you and blowing your nose as harshly as you could.

Your cousin winced at the noise, immediately grabbing hand sanitizer and a bin for you to throw the tisheue away. “Yeah, I know. Ghost went ‘nd told me that just after you graduated.”

Your eyes shot up, glossy, “What?”’

“Yup,” he nodded, crossing his arms over his chest, “Came back and told me ‘nd John first. The man wouldn’t even take your eyes off you, and he was just sharin that graduation photo you took together. To me, it wasn’t nothin special. Just looked like two folks hanging out after a while. But that guy was blushin, you know how scared I was? I thought he was fuckin mad at me, thought I fucked with him one too many times! Then he got all serious, still blushin, said you were the love of his life and that you two were gettin married one of these days.”

“Said you’d made up your mind and he just could not say no to such a gorgeous face. Think he really fell in love with you right then ‘nd there [+].”

Your heart swells, a warm and fuzzy feeling radiating off of your skin, you speak weakly, “I really love that guy a lot.” You dab at your face, so sure your makeups already done for.

Gaz rolls his eyes, “I knoooow, no need to cry jeez. Here,” and he slides you a shot of whiskey. “One for the road.”

••●••

There’s a hand that meets the back, gentle and calloused, “Yer drunk Ms. Trouble, let’s go home.”

Your lashes flutter open, body immediately relaxing at that husky deep southern drawl, “ ‘M not drunk,” you shake your head sitting up, “Just had a little shot.”

Yeah, four little shots of whiskey. It was only 3:00 pm.

You were not driving home like that.

So Kyle called your soon to be husband to come get you.

“Oh, right,” you mumbled, going through your bag once more. Clumsily looking for an invitation, then handing one, still new and wrapped up, to Gaz.

“You’re invited to our weddin. So is Auntie Mary and Uncle Derek. Come, or don’t. Cause it seems like no one from the rest of our family wants to go.” Your voice broke, putting your head down yet again. Simon gave him an apologetic look from under his bandana. Lifting your all but exhausted body after paying your tab.

Gaz took it, laughing down at the card, and smiling, “I’ll be there [+]!”

You looked over Simon’s shoulder, mouthing a ‘thank you’ and waving goodbye.

“You alright?” Ghost asked ten minutes into the drive. He’d let you try to get comfortable in the quiet of the car. The radio low, the road practically empty, the engine could be heard. The afternoon summer breeze was hitting your face through the cracked windows of the old truck, sobering you up.

Simon had sent you to the wolves, already knowing how’s they’d react before he sent you off with a hug and a kiss. He’d known you wouldn’t get the answer you wanted, people were mean. But you only learned the hard way, you’d let them bite at you and let them think you were a sheep. Till it got to be too much and start biting back. Pulling limbs, he’d known you’d get out there with blood in your teeth, but your heart scratched up.

You were thankful he didn’t go and say it, ‘I told you so.’ You despised hearing it more than anything.

You bit your lip, bottom lip trembling while you looked out the window. Simon frowned, looking at the road because you didn’t like when looked at him as you confessed, “gon, say what you got to or you gonna hold it?”

Your breath immediately hitched, cries leaving your mouth before you could even get a word out.

“God why did they have to be so fuckin mean Simon? They were callin me childish for wanting to be with you and you- you some demon! You ain’t a demon! You’re human. Why would they treat you like that? Why would they talk about you like that?” You sobbed, tears rapidly falling down your face.

Simon sighed wiping one side of your face with his free hand, you wiping the other but it did nothing. Tears still fell, your voice moaning like you were in agony. You sat back in your seat and closing your eyes.

“I’m sorry dolly, everyone here- they- they ain’t as sweet as you. Can’t help themselves. They don’t know no better.” He cooed genuinely, rubbing your thigh with his thumb.

You shook your head, wailing now, hard. Loud. “Not knowing any better is just a fuckin excuse so they can treat you that way Simon! You didn’t do anything wrong! You’ve never done anything wrong! Do you even know that? That fire was never your fault! It could never be your fault! You were just a child! Why would that be your fault?!”

You let out an annoyed and strangled groan, “Ughhh! Why’d they have to go ‘nd treat you like that!? You were a fuckin baby!”

Not once. Not once in his life had Simon had someone cry for him.

There were people who understood his situation when he was younger, people who looked out for him and he was more than thankful to have some source of kindness in his life even when he felt like he didn’t deserve it.

But to have some cry like this, like you were the little boy who saw that house go up in flames, the one who heard the screams and the yells across the way for help. And you were telling that little boy that it was alright. That that his fathers doings weren’t his, that people shouldn’t be mean to him for something he didn’t do. The short amount of time you’d been together, you’d never judged him. Not when you realized it was a little harder for him to open up to you, not when you realized how hard it was for him to go into Pinewood without a little bit of a stare.

You’d love with all your heart, creating your own little moments of happiness with him on the farm whenever he was free. Silly little things, swimming in the creek, racing against the cows at the farm over, teaching him how to line dance in the house. All but accepting of his faults, and he of yours. Always right there to catch you when you tripped over your own feet while running off.

But sometimes he could wrap his head around it. He’d asked once, while you two sat on the porch after dancing the night away, a bottle of bourbon sat on the steps after burning the back of your throats once.

“You deserve nothin but kindness and the truth, don’t you Simon? Who would I be to judge you?” Your brown eyes twinkled right along with the stars that shone in the sky.

“You’re just you, I’m just me. We’ll be figurin this loooong journey together from now on. Running with coyotes with you, I’m excited.” And you laughed so beautifully, swinging your feet back and forth.

It made that little boy in his heart tremble. Like he was finally okay.

Tears swelled at the brim of his eyes. He took a shaky breath, sniffing before grabbing your hand in his and kissed it.

“Jesus, [+], I love you. Truly I love you.” And he couldn’t stop himself. Whispering it against your knuckles like a prayer.

Maybe, just maybe, God was allowing Simon this pure and utter happiness for the first time in his life. He’d been to hell and back and only god knows why. But someone out there had sent him an angel— a savior, and he was more than happy to be called yours and only yours for the rest of his life.

••●••

With less than half the people you’d intended to come, your wedding was, in every single way, perfect.

You were surrounded with nothing but love and support, so much so, you could see Simons eyes watering no matter how hard he tried to hide it. John was the officiant, a man Simon had trusted with everything in him, it was only right to marry the two of you. You even asked for his blessing, through a deep belly laugh he told you yes.

The only real debate was if your wedding cake should be carrot cake or red velvet.

You told Simon, carrot cake was too old and too picky to be a wedding cake.

Simon told you red velvet cake was just chocolate cake with red food dye.

Yes, there was a great, presidential-esc debate about it. So much so, you had to leave the bakery and come back two days later, both of you with unwavering opinions. The only thing you did agree on is that having the cake half carrot half velvet would be gross.

“Why don’t you two just have two small cakes and the guests can have cupcakes?” Offered through a huff, tired of the bickering.

And that’s what happened.

Both of you cutting your own small, two tiered cakes and feeding the other.

No, Simon did not wipe your face with cake.

Just a little icing on your neck, and he sucked it clean off. Naturally, you had to match it. A hickie being seen on both of your necks in all your wedding photos then on.

You’d go on a honeymoon at a later date, till then, Simon carried you princess style over the threshold. The biggest smile he ever had on his face.

Up until you two saw the state of the first floor. Fully, and obnoxiously decorated with fake lanterns, beach balls, fake grass skirts around the tables, a little container full of sand with a umbrella, blue streamers on the ground of the living room to represent “water” with a paddle board and shot glasses that said, ‘aloha’ and the like— to top it off?

A large sign having on the walls that said, ‘Welcome to paradise! (adjacent :) )’

“Who the hell did all this?” You scream laughed, clutching your stomach. It was ridiculous and Simon rubbed at his temple, voice laced with annoyance, “Soap and Gaz I’m fuckin sure.”

You looked around the island of the kitchen, spread out with pictures of your siblings, a few of both you and Simon from when you were younger, your sure Gaz brought over to decorate this mess.

“Oh John’s here too!” You smile at the picture of John, Soap ad Gaz all too big and muscular but crowded in the small frame.

You took another look around, giggling at the silliness of it all. And then the quiet filled the air, heart pumping. Almost like the air completely shifted.

“Mrs. Riley,” oh, didn’t that just roll off the tongue ever so nicely?

You, Mrs. Riley. didn’t it sound good?

Simon’s hands found your hips, moving your hair out the way, lips trailing from the back of your neck to your chest.

“You mind,” kiss, “if I” another, “take my sweet wife,” another, “upstairs? Think it’s bout time I treat her.”

Your stomach could’ve fallin out your ass. You gulped, slowly nodding only to yelp right after, Simon throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“I-I got a little surprise for you Mr. Riley, if a wait a little.” You giggled, patting his back as he slowly went up the steps.

“How long I have to wait?”

“Like ten minutes.”

What a lie that was. A flat out lie. You were ready fifteen minutes ago. Why? Well you were eager. Wanting, and now have spent the last five minutes pacing the bathroom like it was your first time.

This was the opposite of that.

Just the first time as husband and wife.

“I don’t mind fuckin you in there darlin, ain’t a issue.” Your legs almost gave out from his voice alone. But you made sure the door was locked, doing another revamp of your hair.

“You can’t! We have to do it in bed first.”

“Yeah, first.” Simon scuffed, sitting on the bed just like you told him to. His buttoned shit found it’s was to the laundry bin, shoes and socks off.

“Your eyes are closed?” You asked from the bathroom, fixing the last bit of your lingerie.

A groan, “Yes ma’am.”

“You sound like you’re lyin!”

Another groan through the door, followed by a huff, “they’re closed I swear it, lucky. Come on now, been waitin for ever.”

You let out a sharp inhale, slowly opening the door.

“No peaking” you warn, tip toeing to lean yourself against the wooden dresser.

“[+], I ain’t peakin,” he was, but he could only see your damn socks, so he settled with being surprised. Following your voice across the room. He was already half hard.

You cleared your throat, adjusting yourself one last time. “Okay, you can open.”

Maybe this was the after life. Maybe you were an Angel.

A sight for sore eyes, you were against the dresser in an off white two piece lingerie hugging your breasts and hips, matching lace knee highs with bows on them, a lace garter hugging your thigh, with a pinned veil in your hair. Delectable.

Beautiful.

“Well, say something Mr. Riley! I’m embarrassed!” Your cheeks flushed, eyes looking elsewhere.

The blonde stood, slowly crossing the room to trap you inbetween his large build and the dresser.

He gave you a little smile, a scar that ran through his pink lips moving upward, “You’re cute as shit when you blush.”

“You can’t even see it!”

He presses your foreheads together, holding your chin in his fingers, “You look real pretty [+]. Most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen my whole life.”

And you decide to melt, right in his arms, right then and there. He catching you, laughing against your lips. Kissing you soft. Slow. Slipping his tongue in your parted and your mouth ever so sweetly.

He lifts you by the hips, then setting you in his lap at the end of the bed.

You gently pull away, hands on his “I’m tremblin so much. I’m sorry, can’t really think straight.” You giggle, you feel foolish. You’ve done it with Simon countless times but felt so nervous right now.

But he’s sweet, rubbing your back, he kisses you once more, “We can take our time dolly, let you get comfortable.”

You thank him, god what a fucking sweetheart. His large hands slowly foldles all over you, squeezing and pulling. Slowly taking everything off, everything but that garter and knee highs. Simon would need to engrave the sight in his brain. Your pretty nipples all hard, long lashes peeking through to him. He sticks two fingers in your mouth, you suck on them for a bit before he pulls them out trailing down to your already gushing cunt. You let out a ragged breath as he easing his fingers inside you.

He thrusts his fingers inside your tight walls “Come on darlin, take mine out. ‘S all yours.”

You do, taking hiss length out of his boxers. It’s hard, rushing with blood and veins, a strawberry red mushroom tip.

You gulp, eyes stuck on his his large length. Practically salivating, “Always so big Mr. Riley.”

“Ain’t shit you can’t handle,” he whispers in your ears and you shudder at his words, Simon gives your gummy pink more thrusts. You grind down on him, finally finding a bit of your senses and pumping your hand around Simons dick. You’re both panting, rocking your hips against each other, both needing, desperately wanting more.

You whimpered, biting your lip as your head fell on his shoulder, “Mr. Riley- please-“ you walls tighten around his two fingers and he slowly drags them out. Sucking them both while looking right at you. You shudder, head feeling dizzy, panting and grinding down in his lap.

“Aht, aht, Mrs. Riley don’t be so impatient. Gotta take my time with ‘er sweetheart.” He smirks against your lips. Pecking them once before laying you on the bed, getting in between your legs land slapping his aching cock on his slick clit. A hiccup of a moan escaping your mouth while he rubs his dick between your pussy lips.

“You’re not bein fair Simon.” You pout, trembling at his badly you wanted him inside. Hurry, hurry, hurry.

“Guess I’ll have to listen when you call me that. Right baby?”

You give another sheepish nod, Simon stretched your dripping hole with his tip, sliding right in your velvety walls, that clung to him with every inch he gave you. The blonde’s tip brushing against your cervix. He almost losses his vision at how good you feels how fucking warm you are. He curses, caressing your hips while he takes a deep breath,

“Christ, lucky, who’s makin you so wet lil girl? Huh?”

“M-my husband,” you slurred, toes curling while he pushed your knees to your forehead, folding you half and splitting you open with his large cock.

“That’s right honey. Yer sweet ‘nd lovin. Husband.” And he rams it into you, deep. Giving you harsh thrusts, torturing your poor cunt as the loud slap, slap, slap of your thighs smacking together hits the walls of your bedroom.

“Mr. Riley, hold me!” You mewl, your arms already reaching out for him. Fuck, he can’t get enough to you’d already fucked out and wanting to feel him on you. He does so, making sure to press more of his weight into you as he fucks— no- loves into you juuuust right. His mouth reaches your mouth, kissing the corner of your lips before trailing to your ear. Sucking and biting at it that makes you moan.

He curves his dick into you, swiveling his hips just for his tip to brush against your g-spot. You claw at his arms, shivering and tears form in your eyes. Your sobbing,

“Fuck, Mr- aanh- mmph- Mr. Riley! ‘M gonna cum!” You claw at his back, thighs shaking and Simon bites at your jaw. His hand, adorned with his wedding band, pinches your clit. Grunting once you clench around him and he rubs at it vigorously.

“Fuck baby, show your husband how a good wife makes a mess. Yeaaah pretty, alll over my dick.”

The knots in your stomach finally release themselves, you shudder, clamping down on the blondes length and clinging onto his cock. Milking him for what he’s worth. “That’s it girl, shi- thaaaat’s it. Gonna take my fuckin cum, deep. Damn pretty,”and his tip twitches inside you, ropes of his seed flying inside you womb. And he gives you deeper thrusts to make sure sticks.

He pays your stomach that’s already starting to bulge, “Gonna keep you nice ‘nd full tonight lucky.”

Please, do. But you couldn’t even babel it out. You just yanked Simon closer by his blonde strands as you attach your lips to his. Molding you two together.

••●••

Your hand loudly bangs against the wall of your bedroom. The sun was creeping up in the sky, the crickets ceasing to chirp while the birds begun their songs.

You were drunk on his dick, looking back while he worked into you. One hand on your hip, the other mushing your face into the wall. You don’t even remember getting over here. You’re sure you’d been running half way through and made up so excuse, mumbling that you had to go to the bathroom. That 6’4 freak of a man couldnt wait, a couple seconds for you to hobble back to the bed so he met you half way.

Fucking you right on the floor before pressing you into the wall, nipples brushing the cool paint with every thrust. You shimmied your ass back on him, smirking stupidly as the loud sound of your juices sloshing was heard. Simon groans as you fuck him back

You hiccuped, sputtering out your words, “Mr hicc- Mr. Riley?”

“Yeeees Mrs. Riley.” Simon teased, giving your ass a nice slap, plummeting into your sobbing cunt. There was a ring that formed at the bottom of his dick, your mixed cum down his thighs and clinging to his dark pubic hair.

“I fuck- fuckin looooove you soooo much. Gonna make you happy for- hicc- hmm- the rest of your life. I pwomise.” Your lashes were wet with tears, so gorgeous. So adorable.

Simon croons, ocean eyes finding yours and wiping a stray tear away. “I love you too, my lucky girl. So fuckin amazin. All for me. I’ll- damn it- gonna be good to you too.”

You nodded, dumbly. Barley hearing his words before your eyes closed. He yanks you back by your hair, giving you a sloppy, wet kiss. Pulling away with a smack, Simon growls, bullying his cock into your faster. Harder. Sobs escaping you as you feel it, that electric feeling coursing through your veins. Your toes curling, and you shake, walls suddenly coated with Simon’s white cum while you spasm around him.

He entertains both of your hands together, holding you against his chest while you both cum. Simon leaves soft pecks on your cheeks, rocking you both through climax. Your skin is sticky and hot.

“Fuck, so happy to be married to ya darlin.”

a/n: As always lmk what you think. There’s also plot in this that will make more sense (imo) in little drabbles so I’ll do those soon. Oh, fully inspired by II Hands II Heaven by Beyoncé. I highly recommend. I love yew <3

most recent masterlist

[deikshen]

Omega Shen Qingqiu who is fed up with all the courtship gifts he receives. It's okay, it's entertaining, but at this point in his life he is quite tired. His Binghe has fallen (been pushed and stabbed haha oops) into the Endless Abyss, and he is really fed up with courtship gifts and having to answer civilized letters rejecting them.

So, just to spite him, Shang Qinghua sends him a courtship gift. Just to make fun of him. It's a silly little thing, literally. A flower with two long light blue petals pressed with with the description below "Hatsune Miku Flower".

Shen Qingqiu keeps it.

Okay, so if he rejects the courtship, he's supposed to return the gifts and send a rejection letter. But damn! He knows Shang Qinghua did it as a fucking joke to get on his nerves. So, he keeps the damn flower and doesn't waste his time sending the rejection letter.

Shang Qinghua comes over for tea after that, and they stay up later than would be appropriate discussing some fandom shit. In reality, time passes and it is late at night when Shen Qingqiu kicks Shang Qinghua out of his house.

A few days later, Shang Qinghua sends another gift. The truth is that, at that moment, BOTH of them have forgotten the nonsense of courtship gifts and all that. But Shang Qinghua had gone down to the village, had seen some ugly and ridiculously colorful fans, and decided that it would make a great ironic gift for his friend. So he buy them, wrap them with the most delicate care, and send them off.

And then, a few days later, he sends a very ridiculous collection of novels he found directly to his chaotic reader friend. He does so, of course, knowing that he would not be able to carry those books on his return, taking advantage of the parcel service to lighten his trip.

So when he gets to Cang Qiong, he's suddenly being looked at horribly by the other Alphas and he's just—hey, he didn't do anything wrong!!!

Shen Qingqiu enjoys his books, uses his colorful fans exclusively to hit Shang Qinghua, and only once regrettably uses one for a whole day until he realizes it and just hits Shang Qinghua swung his fan very hard, horrified.

Shang Qinghua keeps coming to drink tea, gossip and complain almost every afternoon. He often stays up late at night. At one point, Liu Qingge just stops with Shen Qingqiu to say:

"You shouldn't be with an Alpha who is courting you without a chaperone."

And Shen Qingqiu is just: "???? What Alpha is courting me?"

When Shang Qinghua arrives a while later with some sweet buns for tea, Liu Qingge rolls his eyes and runs away.

And the entire sect believes that they are in a fairly advanced phase of their courtship. Of course, it is a very serious matter; they meet all the standards of taking it as seriously as they should. Gifts, meals, providing for him; even Shen Qingqiu looks happier, using the gifts Shang Qinghua gives him to show how he accepts his courtship, eating his snacks in public, composing new songs for him.

(Shen Qingqiu doesn't compose a shit. He plays pop songs that Shang Qinghua misses on the guqin and enjoy some music he thought he would never hear again.)

When the courtship has already lasted more than half a year, everyone is restless. Although it is true that some courtships are long... The truth is that in half a year, they should already be preparing a wedding! A small ceremony at least! But neither of them seems to talk about weddings, or ceremonies, or trousseaus, or preparations, and they are all NERVOUS.

Could it be that the two peak lords are holding such a private ceremony that not even their pack of peak lords will be invited? That was rude!

Once again, Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua still have no idea what the hell is going on with them. Why do all peak lords behave so strangely? Why do they keep insisting that they go see a fortune teller? What the hell are they talking about???

[thescarletfang]

SPINNING OUT [part two]

Here it is! Part two!

Read part one here.

Dr. Jack Abbot x ex!freader

Summary: You left Jack three months ago, convinced he'd given up on your marriage. When you're hit by a drunk driver, you're taken to PTMC, and what was supposed to be an ending gives way to a new beginning.

Word count: ~8k

ALL OF MY WORK IS 18+, MDNI

Warnings: Angst, fluff, car accident, time jumps and flashbacks, therapist reader, widower Jack, dead wife mentioned!, SMUT, nipple worship (lol), death of a child mentioned, vaginal pain mentioned, p in v sex, oral sex, eventual happy ending. Slight age gap (reader is 38, Jack is 49 in present day). If I missed anything, let me know!

taglist (I only tagged you if you have your age in your bio!!! Sorry but I'm a stickler about it, especially when my work contains smut. If you wanna be tagged, add that age in your bio!).

@espressheauxs, @imherefordeanandbones, @ emma8895eb, 

@bitters-n-sweets @absinthe-over-tea, @wowitsafemale, @sophreakingfunny, @abbotjack, @thatcorporategirlie, @grimpowrrs, @telepathay

PART 2 

BEFORE

When you arrive to Jack’s place three evenings after your first date, your entire body is buzzing. 

You’ve texted each other every day. Jack’s called you after all of his shifts, as the sun is cresting over the city skyline and you’re just waking up, loose-limbed and heavy-eyed. It’s been 72 hours since you kissed under the moonlight in front of your home and you itch to be back in his presence. You feel delirious and wild, and you cannot stop thinking about the feeling of his lips on yours, the heat of his body pressed against you. 

You remind yourself there’s no expectation for tonight. You want to sleep with Jack, obviously, but you don’t want to rush him. You don’t even know if he wants that. You feel close to him but the reality is it’s only been three days, so you need to calm the fuck down. 

Now you find yourself standing in Jack’s home, a glass of wine in your hand, taking in this man’s space while he fusses with dinner in the kitchen with a dish towel over his right shoulder. You glance at him as he throws garlic into the pan, lowering the heat as it sizzles in the oil. You thought you’d be nervous when he opened the door, but his crooked grin, his dimples, his entire energy calmed your fluttering heart. 

His condo is simple and clean. There’s not much in the way of personality, but you figure that’s because he practically lives at the hospital. You wander over to the bookshelf in the living room and grin at his collection of Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings.  You also see a few photos. Jack with his sisters and nieces and nephews; this makes you grin. There’s one in particular that you like; it’s Jack with a young (maybe nine or ten), curly-haired girl on his shoulders at what appears to be some sort of backyard birthday. It’s precious. There’s one of Jack from when he was in the army with a few military buddies, leaning against a combat vehicle in the desert. He looks skinny and haunted, and you have a hard time looking at it. Jack and Robby, from a fishing trip you remember vaguely hearing about a few years ago, though it’s funny now to think that the “buddy” Robby was heading to the cabin with was, in fact, this Jack Abbot. 

And then there is a framed photo of Jack and his wife on their wedding day. They can’t be more than 25-years-old in the picture. Jack’s hair is auburn, and his freckles stand out even more with his youthful, round, clean-shaven face. They’re smiling at one another and they look so sweet it makes your heart clench. You’re shocked to find your eyes prickle as you gaze at this photo, but you cannot help it. It is so unfair that she isn’t here anymore and that Jack had to go through that. 

You’re so grateful that this man has invited you into his space, that he hasn’t hid any parts of himself from you. 

You turn to said man now and find him watching you from the kitchen. He’s leaning against the counter, arms crossed (ridiculously sexy in his plain, blue t-shirt), and he has this little grin on his scruffy face. You feel yourself warm under his gaze and make your way to him, sipping your wine as you do so. 

“You caught me snooping,” you say lightly, and his eyes light up. 

“I explicitly told you to snoop while I finish this,” he says, uncrossing his arms and taking the dish towel from his shoulder. “Find anything interesting?”

You stop just a few feet from him in his kitchen and smile. “I like your pictures and book collection.”

He studies you and you feel like he’s trying to decipher whether or not you’re teasing him. 

“Yeah?”

You nod. “Also, it is hilarious to me that you and Robby go on fishing trips. Very sweet…and geriatric of you both.”

Jack’s eyes light up at the teasing, scoffing in mock-offense. “Hey now. Fishing trips are cool.”

You laugh. “I didn’t say they weren’t!” A beat. “Just a coupla peepaws catching trout. It’s cute.” 

He grins, dimples showing through, and turns to the stove. “Maybe I won’t feed you after all.”

“Now that’s just rude. I’m famished.”

He shrugs, shoots you a mischievous glance over his shoulder, and it’s so fun and sweet that you can only smile like an idiot in return. 

Jack does, in fact, feed you. And Jack Abbot, MD., is an amazing cook. It’s some sort of risotto with creamy mushrooms and lemon chicken and a ton of herbs and you’re so impressed you have to try and school your features into a poker-face lest you come off as desperate as you feel. Dinner is a relaxed affair, at his little table, and as you both eat you chat about your days, and work. By the time both of your plates are clean, your body is buzzing. 

You sip your half-full glass of wine and Jack sips his and you both kinda just stare at each other for a moment. It’s loaded and you wonder how crazy it would be to crawl into his lap right now, to bracket his hips with both of your thighs, grind yourself on him—

Jesus, you need to get a hold of yourself. A string of bad dates and you’re ready to jump the bones of the first man you meet who’s competent, and handsome, and has a great job, and is in therapy, and can cook—

Jack clears his throat. “Wanna watch a movie or something?” he asks, rubbing a hand along his scruff and breaking through your mile-a-minute thoughts. 

You nod. Jack nods back, and your heart pounds.

You pick something mindless — an old 90s thriller, because those comfort you, and you sit on Jack’s couch which is shockingly cozy and comfortable (you make a mental note to ask him where he got it when your mind isn’t on a loop of Jack Jack Jack). 

Jack sits next to you but not right against you, though you can feel his body heat. You both crack jokes about the movie, and about 30 minutes in you feel his arm go across the back of the couch behind you. Your heart thuds and you move a little closer to him, and then a few minutes later you feel his fingers graze your shoulder and you are now, finally, pressed against his side. You can smell his soap and his detergent and it smells clean and divine and Jesus, are you about to sniff him?

You really, really try to keep your breathing even but when his thumb grazes back and forth on your shoulder, you can’t help it. You both haven’t said anything in a while, and you can hear Jack’s breathing, can feel the heat of him. Your breath picks up just a little bit because you might explode from how badly you just want to touch him. 

Your hand finds his thigh. 

Jack’s sharp intake of breath spurs you on and you look up at him through your lashes and he’s already looking down at you, his jaw clenched and tight like he’s—like he’s holding himself back. 

You bite your lip and Jack actually fucking groans and your hand moves just the slightest bit higher on his leg and Jack swallows. 

“Hi,” you breathe. 

“Hi,” he croaks, voice broken and sacred between you. 

“Movie’s not over,” you whisper. 

Jack’s eyes rove over your face. When he looks at you, it’s like he’s taking in every single feature and rather than make you feel exposed, it makes you feel fucking beautiful. 

“I couldn’t care less about the movie,” Jack tells you and that’s all you need. Your chest rises and expands and Jack’s eyes flicker for a moment down to your chest and then quickly back to lock on your gaze. 

His eyes make you feel bold. 

You sit up, throw a leg over his lap and then you’re straddling him, your hands on his shoulders and Jack’s hands find your waist and you’re so close to him and it feels so fucking good. 

“Kiss me,” you tell him. Jack bites his lip and you think I am going to fuck this man tonight. 

“Yes ma’am,” he breathes before a hand finds the back of your head and he dips you down as he surges up and your lips meet. 

It takes approximately two seconds before you’re licking into each other’s mouths, and it’s messy and so much hotter than the peck you shared when you arrived at his place. You can’t help your hips—they grind down into his lap and you can feel how hard he is, you think he must’ve been hard for the last few minutes at least and the thought drives you insane. 

You’re a little shocked there’s no awkwardness here. It’s all so easy and it makes you feel grateful you met this man at this exact point in your life, when you feel fully formed and clear about what you are looking for, what you want. 

One of his hands dips to get a palmful of your ass and you gasp into the kiss because it feels so good, everything about him feels so perfect. 

He pulls back slightly, breathing heavy, lips spit-slick and red. 

“This okay?” he husks, voice serrated and low. He goes to move his hand off your ass but you grab his wrist and keep it there. You lean forward and bite his bottom lip, tugging it gently between your teeth and Jack groans, the sound rumbling out of his chest. He looks wonderfully devastated. 

“Yes,” you breathe, and suddenly both of Jack’s hands are gripping your ass through your jeans and your lips find his again. You break apart for air and he sucks the pulse point below your jaw. Your right hand finds his curls, your left grips his shoulder, and you grind against his hard, clothed cock and you think you might actually come from dry-humping Jack on his couch. You cannot remember the last time you dry-humped anyone, let anyone have been brought to orgasm from such a thing. You feel like a teenager, hormones raging and lighting you up from within. 

“Jack,” you moan, your hips grinding faster. “I—I might—I think I’m gonna—fuck—”

Jack pulls away from where he’s sucking your neck and looks up at you, his eyes bright and dark at the same time, a look of wonder on his face. 

“Shit, really?” He looks down between you, where you’re moving and he lets out a strangled groan. “You think you can come like this? Yeah?” 

“Yes, yes,” you chant, moving faster, the rough fabric of his jeans against your own creating delicious friction. “It’s so good, Jack, you feel so good—”

Your hand grips his curls a little tighter, the couch begins to smack against the wall from the movement, and Jack moans, his eyes locking onto yours. He looks amazed and it makes you feel powerful. 

“Jesus.” His voice practically breaks on the word. “You can’t be real. You were fuckin’ made from my dreams.”

You’re babbling now because the seam of your jeans against your clit and the feel of his hard cock have you so close. 

“I’m there, I’m there, oh my fucking god—Jack—” You know you’re being loud but you can’t help it because all you can do is focus on coming on this man’s lap. “I’m coming—I’m coming—”

“Fuck, just like that, you look so pretty comin’ on me, take what you fuckin’ need.” Jack’s voice spurs you on and then you’re coming so hard you actually fucking squeal. 

Jack leans his head against the back of the couch and watches you break apart and you can actually feel his cock twitch from under you. You come down from the high of your orgasm, practically melting into his lap, your arms looping around his neck. You lean your forehead against his and you’re both panting into each other’s mouths. 

“Christ,” Jack croaks. He looks absolutely debauched. 

You’re so warm, all over, but an insecurity rushes up inside of you as your breathing begins to slowly even out. You move your forehead away from his, look him in the eyes. 

“Is it insane I want you to fuck me and this is only the second time we’ve hung out?”

Jack’s eyes flash for a moment, his jaw clenching, and then he places a tender hand around your face, his thumb grazing your cheek. 

“I’m followin’ your lead here. I don’t need anything, I—” He swallows. “I’m just really glad you’re here.” 

You smile because you can’t help it. “I’m really glad I’m here, too.” You lick your lips. “And I really, really need you to be inside me.” 

“Fuck.” The word is torn from Jack’s lips, followed by a disbelieving laugh. “Hold on to me.”

Your arms around his neck tighten, and his hands move to hold you just under your ass and he—he picks you up from the couch, stands with you—and you cannot believe he is carrying you right now. 

“M’too heavy,” you say shyly, burying your face in his neck. Jack barks out a laugh as he walks you down the hall and shoulders his way through what you assume is his bedroom door. You wish you had the brain power to look around but you can’t because this sexy motherfucker just carried you into his bedroom. 

“No fuckin’ way,” he tells you lowly, and when he reaches his bed he gently sets you onto it. You fall back, breathing heavy as he leans over you, hands planted on either side of your head. Your hands skate up the thick, corded muscles of his arms and you look into his hazel eyes. You smile at him because you simply cannot help it. 

Jack stares at you, seemingly cataloguing everything he sees. 

“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you these last few days,” he rasps, a hand coming up to cradle our jaw. You bite your lip and his eyes grow dark as he watches the movement. 

“Me too,” you whisper, and it’s tender between you. He leans down, presses his lips to yours and the kiss goes from sweet to fucking hot in seconds. You bite his bottom lip, pulling on it and Jack moans into your mouth. He pulls back, staring down at you.

“Need you to take your fuckin’ clothes off,” he croaks and you whimper. You nod, sitting up and he kneels on the bed and you both quickly—frantically—undress. Jack reaches behind his head with one hand, pulling off his t-shirt in a swift movement that you internally catalogue as very fucking sexy. You pull your own top over your head, toss it to god-knows-where, and quickly unclasp your bra. Before you can undo your jeans, Jack stills your hand, moving it away from the button. He crowds slowly into you, his eyes flicking up to yours before his lips find the nipple of your left breast. He massages your right one with a large hand and it has you leaning back on your elbows and arching your back so your tit is in his palm and you’re keening. 

“You’re so sexy,” he groans out of the side of his mouth that is still around your nipple and your toes curl, your hands going into his gray curls and holding him to you, fucking latching him onto you—

You might come like this, and the realization has you huffing, “I need us to be naked. Now.”

Jeans are clumsily, messily shed, and then you are in your simple cotton panties and Jack is in his briefs and you look down—

The leg Jack has bent on the edge of the bed is prosthetic. You look up at Jack, who’s watching you closely.

“Uh, another thing I never know how to bring up,” he says and you’re taken aback when you notice he’s blushing. “Lost it overseas during my second tour.”

You feel insane because you are topless and in your underwear and this feels like an important moment. You sit up, cradle his face in your hands. 

“You wanna take it off?” You ask, your thumbs brushing the apples of his cheeks. “Do whatever makes you more comfortable. I want you.”

Jack’s eyes go a little glassy before he kisses you roughly, pushing you back down onto your back. He pulls back enough to mutter, “After,” before he descends on you again. 

The mattress and bedding is cool beneath you as Jack kisses and licks his way down your sternum. He pauses at your breasts, suckling at your nipples for a moment before licking his way down your stomach. He situates himself between your legs.  His hands find the waistband of your underwear and he glances up at you, a question in his eyes. 

“Please,” you answer, and Jack grins crookedly as he peels your underwear down your thighs. He gently drops them over the side of the bed and then Jack is pushing on your knees to open you up to him and your heart is beating so fast you’re pretty sure you can see it beneath your skin. His large hands grip your thighs as he maneuvers your legs over his freckled, broad shoulders and then he breathes you in, his entire face a breath away from your dripping cunt. 

“Fuck, look at you,” he croaks. “Jesus.” His eyes flick up to you. “Can I taste you?”

“Yes, yes—” your words break off when his tongue licks into you and oh, fuck. Fuck. When was the last time you even felt this good? You bizarrely think of the last time you slept with someone — some idiotic man a few months ago, who didn’t even go down on you — and you think this is so good, it’s so good—

“Jack,” you cry, your hands finding his hair and pulling him even closer into your pussy. He moans and you can feel the sound, can feel it down into your very core and you think you want him eating your pussy every single day for the rest of your life. 

He pulls back and licks his lips, looking up at you. “Tell me what you need, I wanna get you there.”

You put a hand to your forehead and your thighs squeeze against his ears, caging him in. 

“This—this, Jack, it’s so good—”

Suddenly Jack’s hands are under your ass and he’s pulling you even closer into his awaiting mouth and you can’t help it — you cry out so loudly you’re worried about Jack’s neighbors, but he doesn’t seem to care because he’s grinding into the mattress as he eats you. His head bobs up and down with how fervently he’s licking your pussy and you feel it but it’s — it’s not enough —

You lean up on your elbows. “Can—can you put a finger in me?”

Jack’s eyes flutter and he pulls back and you almost die when you see how wet his stubble is. He’s drenched in you. 

“Yeah,” he says softly, almost reverently. “I can do that, baby.”

He takes the middle finger of his right hand and gently slides it into you, bites his lip as he watches it go in with little resistance. 

You collapse onto your back again and the glide of his finger in and out of your pussy feels heavenly. Your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head. 

“Yes, yes,” you babble. 

Jack kisses the inside of your thigh as he moves his finger in and out. He looks at you, eyes dark. 

“Need another?”

You nod, your hands gripping into the top cover of Jack’s bed because it’s so good when Jack gently slides in his ring finger. It’s tighter than just one but you feel yourself relaxing into the feeling, feel yourself grow even wetter with a mix of Jack’s spit from his mouth and your juices. 

“I’ve—fuck, yes like that—I’ve had some issues with pain in the past—so you—you need to get me—-fuck, Jack—get me ready—-to take you—”

You know you’re babbling but you need Jack to know this; you’ve had too many awful partners in the past who didn’t take their time, who just rammed their dick into you. That kind of pain doesn’t leave your body easily, and you’ve learned how to enjoy sex but you need to communicate this. 

His fingers keep working you but he pats your knee with his free hand. 

“Hey, look at me.”

Jack’s rasp catches your attention and you open your eyes and you look down at him. Your thighs frame his head, his gray curls are a wreck, he’s got two fingers buried deep in your pussy and you try and take a mental snapshot of the image because it’s…it’s lovely. 

“Thank you for telling me,” he says, and the hand that’s not between your legs holds onto your thigh, his thumb caressing the skin. “All I wanna do is make you feel good, okay? Don’t care if that means we take our time, or what. Yeah?”

You nod, feel your eyes prickle despite yourself. Jack kisses your knee. 

“I’m here with you and you’re so fuckin’ gorgeous. You taste so good and if this is all we do, I’ll be a very fuckin’ happy man. You got that?”

You nod, your entire body trembling. Jack crooks his fingers and you gasp.

“Jack,” you whisper. Jack’s eyes crinkle at the edges, softening, and then his thumb starts strumming your clit in a way that sets you on literal fire and you cry out.

“Want you to come all over my fingers,” Jack grouses, and his tongue licks into you again, as his two fingers hook into you and his thumb hits just right. 

“Oh my god,” you moan. You’re sweating properly now, feel it gather on the back of your neck and your hairline and you start to grind into Jack’s face, riding his hand and his tongue at the same damn time. Your tits jiggle with the movement and you feel worshipped in a way you’ve never felt with another man. 

You break when Jack sucks onto your clit, your second orgasm of the night cresting over you with wave after wave of pleasure. You let out a sound that is downright animalistic, and you feel Jack’s own moan all the way to your toes. 

You’re trembling, a sheen of sweat glistens on your skin, and Jack continues to lick and kiss you through it until you put a gentle hand in his curls and pull him off. He looks pussy drunk between your legs, panting and sweating himself. You stare at him. 

“Holy fucking shit,” you articulate like the linguistic genius that you are. Jack’s eyes brighten, a crooked smile dimpling his cheeks as he keeps eye contact with you as he presses a few more kisses into your thighs. 

“Yeah?” he croaks, lips hot on your skin.

You huff a laugh, light and breathy. You’re tingling. 

“Yeah,” you reply, tugging on Jack’s hair. He makes his way up your body, lying next to you. You face each other, and you hook a leg around his waist, cupping his jaw with your hand. 

“How do you make me feel so good?” You ask him because you’re genuinely curious. “Jesus, Jack.”

Jack’s hand finds your naked waist and he gently drags his fingers up and down the curve of your side. “I wanna make you feel good all the time,” he tells you and you believe him. 

You push on his shoulder, getting him flat on his back and you sit up on your knees. He’s still in his briefs and that absolutely needs to change. Your hands find the waistband and you look at Jack, who’s watching you with his chest rising and falling. 

“Can I?” you ask. He lets out a breath. 

“Fuck yes.”

You peel his briefs off of his—his very muscular thighs—and his cock springs free, red and standing proud, already weeping from the tip. Without thinking you wrap a hand around the base of him, your tongue sliding up the side of his cock to lick the precrum that’s dribbled out.

“Fuck!” Jack punches the word out, harsh and from his chest. You hum around him, wanting to keep going, but he gently puts a hand on the back of your neck, gently urging you off. 

“I’m not gonna fuckin’ last if you do that,” he says, voice cracked and ruined. You lift off with a final lick over his tip. You really want to suck this man dry, but Jack’s breath is so shallow you think you need to go a little easy on him. 

“Next time?” you ask, hopeful, and Jack barks out a surprised laugh, more of a huff of a breath, and nods. 

“Yeah, next time. Right now I need to be inside you.”

You quickly sit up, hovering over him. You put your hands on his chest but hesitate. 

“You don’t have any lube, do you?” 

You know you’re wet but still, penetrative sex for you without lube is not that fun. You curse yourself for not bringing your mini bottle in your purse, but you didn’t want to be presumptuous —

“Of course,” Jack says and nods toward his nightstand. “In there. It’s water-based, if that’s okay.”

You stare down at Jack Abbot and you think where the fuck did you come from?

“I really shouldn’t find the sentence, ‘it’s water based, if that’s okay,’ as sexy as I do, but Jesus, who are you?” You ask, leaning over to his nightstand and taking out the bottle. Jack’s hands land on your waist, tightening and he laughs, his ears reddening. 

“I’m 45-years-old,” he tells you, watching as you squirt some into your hand. He gasps when you spread it onto his cock, groans when you give him a squeeze. “And a doctor. I—I know to have lube—fuck, honey, you gotta stop doing that if you don’t want me to embarrass myself.”

You smirk, ceasing your stroking as you line him up at your entrance. “There’s no way you could embarrass yourself after the way you ate me out.”

Jack actually blushes, which is hilarious seeing as you’re both naked and your bare cunt is against his stomach and your hand is wrapped around his length. 

Jack’s hands squeeze your waist once. “You feel good? Ready for me?”

“Yes,” you tell him, before you begin to sink down on his cock. You both gasp, your breaths coming quickly as you take him inch by inch. The stretch hurts a tiny bit at first but you go slowly.

Jack’s head flies back against his pillow and his jaw clenches. His hands make their way to palm your ass as he bottoms out inside you. 

“Jesus, god,” he groans, and you place your hands on his chest, adjusting to the feel of him. “You’re so fuckin’ tight—fuck.”

“Gonna start slow,” you gasp, beginning to grind your hips and Jack’s eyes flick down to where you’re taking him.

“Do whatever you want, you feel so fuckin’ good—”

Your voice is breathy when you ask, “Yeah?”

Jack’s hands dimple the flesh of your ass, and he bites his lip, his eyes seemingly glued to the sight of his dick sliding in and out of your pussy. Your hips begin to move in earnest now.

“Yeah,” he croaks. 

You begin to fuck each other like you mean it. 

And you do. You mean it so much because you know this thing with Jack is special. You grind on his cock and he anchors his hands to your hips and his bedroom is a cacophony of the bed squeaking, and breathy moans, and grunts and yes, yes like that and oh fuck, fuck you feel like heaven. 

Just as your legs start to cramp up, Jack tells you for the second time this evening to hold on, and he flips you so you’re underneath him. You let out a breath as he holds himself above you. 

“Still good?” he asks. 

“Yes, so good,” you moan. Jack grabs your right leg, hitches it around his waist and begins to fuck you like it’s what he was put on this earth to do. The angle hits so good, the headboard starts to slam against the wall, your tits bounce and you claw at his shoulders and his back. 

“Fuck!” you cry when his thrusts begin to hit that sacred spot inside of you.

Jack’s lips find your shoulder, sucking on the flesh there before moving onto your neck. He turns his head where it rests against your collarbone, breathes breath onto your skin as his hips pound into you. 

“You take me so well, baby,” he groans and your hand goes to the back of his head, fisting his gray curls. “You feel unreal—come on—fuck, look at you—”

“Give it to me, Jack,” you reply, and you wrap your other leg around his waist. Your arms grip his shoulders and one of Jack’s hands slams against the headboard, allowing himself to hover above you as he pounds into you. 

“Fucking give it to me,” you moan, delirious with pleasure as his cock—slick with your wetness and the lube—hits deep inside of you over and over. 

You snake a hand between you to play with your clit and Jack groans, watches your finger, mesmerized. 

“God, that’s so hot,” he says, his voice breaking on the last word. “You’re so sexy.” 

You strum your clit and feel yourself grow close. “M’gonna come,” you babble and Jack grits his teeth. 

“Yeah? Jesus, me too baby, I’m so close.” His voice is broken. When he begins to falter in his rhythm, he rasps, “Tell me where you want it.”  

You lock eyes with him as he fucks you to the near brink of delirium. “Inside.”

“Fuck, fuck—fuck.” The mantra falls from his lips as you strum your clit at the exact right moment and you come with a scream. Jack follows a second later with a moan of his own, his head buried in your neck as you feel him coat the inside of your pussy with his come. You keep your legs wrapped around him, both of you gasping for air. Your skin is sticky and wet and you feel on fire. 

Jack gently raises himself up on his arms, looking down at you, and you both burst into laughter. 

“Jesus,” he mutters, and his face is bright red. 

“Wow,” you say back. 

You breathe into each other’s mouths for a moment, letting the comedown wash over you both.

Your eyes grow a little wide at a realization. 

“I’m on birth control. I—I’m sorry, I guess telling you to come inside of me in the heat of the moment wasn't the most responsible. No STIs either.”

Jack leans down, kisses you tenderly before slipping out of you. “I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t want to. I’m—I also recently got tested. Before our date, so—”

You sit up, still short on breath. You grin at him and he stares back at you like he cannot believe you’re here. 

You wipe some sweat off of your brow. “Gonna pee.” Before you slip out of bed, Jack snakes a hand into your hair and pulls you to his mouth. He kisses you soft, and slow, and it feels like honey. 

“You’re amazing,” Jack mutters against your mouth and you melt into him. 

You are thoroughly fucked, both metaphorically and physcially. 

And you truly believe you have never been happier. 

*** 

Jack moves into your place six months later.

After your first night together, you both decide to be exclusive quickly. You become Jack’s girlfriend, and you fit and mold into each other’s lives in a surprisingly seamless way. Robby is thrilled, of course, and despite Jack’s horrific schedule, you make it work. Sometimes (the rare and blissful times), he will get a few days off in a row, so you make the most of that time together; farmer’s market strolls, going to see a movie, trying out a new recipe together, or simply existing next one another on the couch; you, deep in your latest novel, Jack reading an old medical journal from the ‘90s (“because there’s still good stuff in here!”).

You can’t help but feel taken aback at the easiness of it all, but you refuse to let it scare you. You have spent your entire life waiting for the other shoe to drop, and you do not allow yourself to think that way now. 

So when Jack’s lease is up on his condo, you both mutually come to the decision that it makes sense to meld your lives in this way. He’s practically living at your place anyway — much more than a toothbrush on your counter and a single drawer. He is everywhere in your home; his favorite mug sits on your kitchen shelf, his books have made their way onto your bookcase, and his toiletries are permanently in the shower. You even had a bench installed in there, so he could shower without his prosthetic and be comfortable.

It just makes sense. 

That first night that Jack moves in, you find him in the kitchen, unpacking a few of his beloved stainless steel pots and pans. He looks up at you, hair disheveled, in basketball shorts and a t-shirt, and your heart literally stutters in your chest. He grins, cheeks dimpling, and you walk over to him. 

“We’re not rushing this, right?” You ask it before you can think about it too much; it’s an insecurity of yours that you’re trying to bat away. Six months and living together doesn’t feel rushed for you, but you know it’s different for Jack. 

Jack, who had a marriage before you. Who had his person.

And he didn’t just lose that person. She was brutally ripped away from him in this life and it will never, ever be fair. And you just…you want to make sure that you aren’t overstepping. You would never fucking try to replace her and you love hearing about every single part of his life when he offers it to you, but you just…

You know there is baggage there. No matter how great Jack’s therapist is (and he’s fucking fantastic, you looked him up because duh), no matter how well his SSRI works, no matter how much healing he’s done, no matter how easy his smiles come to him, you can see it. Not just because you yourself are a therapist, but any human being with eyes can see it; when his nightmares wake you up at 3am; when he comes back from a harrowing shift and his eyes are dulled and he’s quiet. 

He’s still haunted. Maybe he always will be.

You know Jack (like everyone) has got his shit. 

But you just want to be…sure.

That Jack is choosing this.

This life. With you.

Jack sets the pan on the stove and turns to you, his expression calm and warm. 

“I don’t think so,” he says softly. He cocks his head slightly, beckoning you over to him. You go easily into his arms, yours snaking around his waist. He kisses your forehead, pushes some of your hair back from your face. 

“Do you?” 

You shake your head. “No. I just wanted to…check.”

Jack grins his crooked grin. “I’m grown. And I know what I want.”

You huff a laugh, feeling some of the doubt and worry slip away. “Yeah? What’dya want, Abbot?”

Jack slides his hands to cradle your jaw, brings his lips to just hover above yours. A hot coil springs loose, low in your belly.

An ember catching fire. 

You look up at him just before he says, “You.”

***

The reservation time has come and gone. 

You walk back home in the quiet evening, the sun hanging low in the sky and you’re not mad. You’re just…sad.

You miss Jack and you know it’s not his fault. And you told him you didn’t need a big deal made out of a one year anniversary, that just being home with him would’ve been enough after two straight weeks of him working every single night. 

You miss your boyfriend.

But Jack insisted on a nice dinner and he made the reservation. He switched shifts with Robby so he’d be out by 7pm (ha). He’d told you to be at the place by 7:30, that he couldn’t wait to see you, etc. etc. 

The plan was to meet at the restaurant; he’d shower and change at PTMC and you’d walk home together. 

You knew the night wasn’t going to go according to plan when a text came in at 6:55, but you were still hopeful. 

Jack Abbot: May be 5 late. 

You: no rush. ☺️

Jack Abbot: Love you. 

You: Love you. 

You didn’t expect to hear from Jack again, and at 7:15 you walked the short walk to the restaurant. They sat you down quickly and you decided to order a wine while you waited, looking over the menu. At 7:35, another text came in. 

Jack Abbot: I’m so sorry, held up. Fucking brutal here. 20 mins, tops. 

You valiantly kept your heart from sinking (seriously, you deserved an award), and took a hefty sip of your wine. You took a breath. Not his fault, you reminded yourself. 

You: Want me to order you a drink to be ready when you get here?

You (foolishly) expected him to text you back immediately, but when the 20 minutes came and went without any text from Jack, you started to feel antsy. You could feel the waiter eying you from the corner but you ignored the stare, determined to just Be Chill. 

You finished your wine at 8. You looked at your phone. 

At 8:15, you asked the waiter for the check. 

At 8:30, you left. 

Not his fault, not his fault plays like a mantra over and over in your head. You chose Jack, and his horrible schedule, and his good fucking heart. You are in love with this man because of who he is at his core, which is a man who doesn’t half-ass things. Who sees things through. Who doesn’t let someone bleed out on his watch because he has something as trivial as a dinner date to get to.

It’s just that—

It hurts, sometimes. 

To feel like the thing that he might not follow through with is you. 

Your phone buzzes as you let yourself in the front door. 

Jack Abbot: Leaving in 15. You order yet?

You scoff, toeing off your heels and hanging up your purse on the hook by the door. It is now 8:40pm. You stare at his text for a moment as you walk over to the kitchen, taking out your favorite wine glass and deciding you’re going to have your second drink in your PJs and on the couch. 

You: I’m home now, so don’t rush or anything. 

You see the three dots appear and then disappear quickly. You watch this happen a few times and you feel a ping of guilt; you’re not angry with Jack. You can’t be. You just wish he could be a little more realistic sometimes; if he hadn’t insisted on this dinner in the first place, you wouldn’t find yourself disappointed. 

Jack Abbot: Baby, I’m so fucking sorry. 

You steady your breath.

You: It’s okay! I completely understand. I’ll see you at home. 

The three dots do their disappearing act again but he doesn’t respond. You sigh, have another drink, and settle in.

Jack does not, in fact, leave PTMC 15 minutes after he sent that text. 

In fact, he doesn’t arrive home until after midnight, when you are curled up in bed, in that liminal space between conscious and unconscious. You feel the bed dip beside you, feel a hand graze your forehead. You smell the sharp scent of antiseptic and sweat and your eyes flutter open. 

Jack…

Jack looks awful. 

You blink sleepily at him and notice the dark circles under his eyes. Notice his pale, waxy complexion. The fatigue is deep in his bones and you hate it so much it feels like a physical ache. 

“Hey,” he croaks. 

“Hi,” you say as you sit up. Jack scoots over but he doesn’t break eye contact with you. This man will be at the absolute end of his rope but one thing about him? He’ll always look you square on and he won’t back down. He dips his head until he knows he’s got your gaze locked onto his.

“I’m so sorry.” It spills out of his mouth in the dark and lies on the bed between you. You shake your head, rub a hand down his back. You feel a little of the tension leave his shoulders but he’s still holding himself so tightly. 

“It’s okay.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s fuckin’ not. I ruined your night, I ruined our anniversary. It ain’t okay.”

You don’t say anything. The silence stretches between you and Jack looks down at his hands, finally breaking some eye contact and taking a shaky breath.

You keep rubbing his back. 

“You wanna talk about it?”

Jack clenches his jaw and after a moment, he speaks. “Ten-year-old girl. Hit on her bike. Dad was too drunk to realize what happened. A neighbor brought her in. She—” his voice breaks and he rubs his eyes. “She um, she had this wild, curly hair. Like my niece.”

Your heart shatters and you scoot closer to Jack. You lie your head on his back, curling around him. He doesn't have to say that she didn’t make it. You see it and feel it in everything about him now. 

You don’t say I’m sorry. 

You say, “It’s so goddamn unfair. Hope that dad rots in fuckin’ hell.” 

Jack looks up at you, his eyes glassy. You lift your head, run a hand through his curls. “Me too.”

You sit there in shared anger about a stranger. The night hums around you, quietly and softly and it’s a sacred, tender moment. 

You’re no longer tired, so you stand up and offer your hand to Jack. He takes it like he’ll follow you anywhere. You lead him to the bathroom and turn the knobs for the shower.  As steam curls around you, you quietly undress Jack and he quietly undresses you. You help him take off the prosthetic, allow him to lean on you as you both get into the shower. 

He sits down with a groan on the bench under the spray and you don’t say anything for awhile. You simply wash each other in this small, warm place where the two of you are the only two people to exist. When you’ve both rinsed the bubbles from your hair, you go to turn off the water but Jack catches your hand. He pulls you over to where he sits on the bench, and he wraps his arms around your middle. 

Your heart aches and you run your hands through his wet curls. Jack presses his lips to your stomach, makes his way gently to your breasts. Your breath hitches when he wraps his lips around your right nipple, sucking the pebbled flesh there. You feel your core throb and you let out a gasp as he sucks on your tit, like it’s soothing him.

He lets the nipple go with a scrape of his teeth and your fingers tighten in his hair. He moves to your other breast, kissing the flesh before sucking on that one too. You feel his hand gently trail to your core. When his fingers slip through your folds, you tug on his head. 

“Jack,” you say, because you just want to make sure he’s okay. 

His mouth is still sucking on your nipple when he croaks the word, “please” like it’s ripped from his very soul. 

You bite your lip and nod and Jack keeps sucking, keeps fucking self-soothing around your nipple (and it’s so hot, he’s so perfect like this) as he slides a finger into your pussy. You cry out, the sound drowned out from the spray of the shower and Jack gently slides a second finger in and fucks you there under the spray of the water. 

You lose your breath as his thumb strums your clit and he groans against your nipple and when you break, the orgasm rising slow and steady until you’re trembling, Jack finally lifts his mouth from your breast. 

You stare down at him and reach for his aching cock but he shakes his head. 

You understand.

Your pleasure is his penance. You allow him this for tonight. 

When you’re both clean and cozy, back under the sheets, Jack draws you into his arms. You face each other and he cups your cheek, thumb stroking back and forth in a way that makes your eyes flutter. You’re drifting off, finally calm and relaxed and sated. 

“Marry me.”

Your eyes fly open and Jack is staring at you, clear as if it’s a new day. You frown, your mouth falling open.

“What?”

Jack’s eyes flit back and forth between both of yours and at one in the morning after standing you up (albeit, not his fault!), he says it again.

“Marry me.”

You freeze and you’re not sure if you’re dreaming. “Jack, you’ve—it’s been a long night—”

Jack turns over, opens the nightstand, and when he comes back to you he’s holding a simple gold ring with a sparkling solitaire diamond. You gape and bolt up.

“What!”

Jack slowly sits up, still holding the ring between you. “Was gonna do it at dinner. Had a whole—a whole fuckin’ speech planned.”

Your hands go to your face and your heart won’t stop beating as fast as a damn hummingbird, and you cannot believe this is happening right now, right in this moment. 

You look up at him and he’s staring at you. You feel your eyes prick. 

“You sure?” You ask him. 

Jack nods, lets out a breath. “Never been more sure about anything.”

You swallow. “It’s not—you don’t think?--we’re not—”

Jack shakes his head. His voice is raspy when he says, “It’s not too fast. I love you. Want you to be my wife.” 

You slowly take your hands away from your cheeks, which are now wet, because you are crying. “Jack.”

Jack lets out a disbelieving little laugh. “Can’t believe I met you. Never…never thought I’d have this again. Can’t believe you’re…mine.” He pauses. “If—if you’ll have me. Forever.”

“Yes.”

Jack lets out a breath that sounds more like a groan. His eyes shine. “Yeah?”

You nod, smiling and crying and it’s one in the morning and Jack is asking you to marry him. 

“Yeah, Abbot. I’ll have you. Forever.”

The smile Jack gives you puts the fuckin’ moon to shame. 

***

NOW

You aren’t awake and they cut your engagement ring and wedding band off of your finger when you went in for surgery. 

Both sit broken in a little plastic bag on a table beside your unconscious form. 

Jack sits in a chair beside you, elbows on his knees, staring at you with bloodshot eyes and praying to a God he long stopped believing in. 

He is trying to process the fact that you still wear your wedding rings, that you had them on when you were hit by that fucking drunk driver who he hopes didn’t make it and is flatlining somewhere in PTMC. He never takes his own wedding band off but he was sure you kept yours in a drawer somewhere and he doesn’t fucking know what to do if you don’t wake up.

You don’t look like yourself and he can’t equate the vibrant woman you are with this body in the bed before him. 

Robby came in earlier, tried to get Jack to leave and take a shower, eat something, drink water instead of coffee. But Jack refused. 

“I’ll watch over her, brother. You need a break.”

Jack had stared at Robby hard. “This is all my fuckin’ fault, man. I—”

Robby had stepped right up to Jack at that moment, putting a large hand on his friend’s shoulder and looking into his eyes, big brown meeting hazel. “You can’t fuckin’ think that way, Jack. It’s not true and it’s not your fault—”

“I let her go, man,” Jack croaks, eyes wet. “I pushed her away because I don’t deserve her, never did, and this—she shouldn’t—I should’ve been with her or, fuck, I don’t know—-”

Jack’s words had broken off and he’d buried his face in his hands. 

“We’re not gonna let her go this time,” Robby said, his voice cracked with pain. “She’s like my fuckin’ sister and I’m not — we’re not letting her go. We protect the hive, remember?”

When Jack didn’t answer, Robby remained silent but there, a hand on his shoulder. A steady, constant weight in this fucking nightmare Jack found himself in.

Jack now sits alone. Robby had needed to close out his cases, promising he’d be up again as soon as he was done. 

Jack doesn’t know what time it is. Can’t even remember the day of the week.

Jack aches and hurts and he deserves this pain and he just wants you to wake up. 

“Please,” he croaks into the quiet room. “Please come back to me, baby. Please.”

The steady beeping in your cold hospital room is the only answer he gets. 

It’s the only one he deserves. 

[kenniesf1]

in burning red | CL16

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

summary: charles needs a date to his brother's wedding and yn is famously obsessed with him

tropes: strangers to lovers, social media AU

ln.yn

liked by yoursibling, lorde, and 801,247 others

ln.yn wrote a song called "red," it's NOT about charles leclerc (trust me chat, i wish it were 😭🙏). out now!!!!

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user1 she can write the most real songs ever, but her crush on chalres leclerc is the most relatable thing about her

yoursibling stop ruining f1 for me

ln.yn you know what now im gonna ruin it even MORE hoe

user2 im in love with her

user3 and she... is in love with charles leclerc

user4 when the finna is tea but the chile is gag (this music is about to EAT)

oliviarodrigo song of the year!!!!!!

ln.yn that means a LOT coming from youuu 💞

user5 can we collectively make a kickstarter to buy her a paddock pass 😭

ln.yn i would not be opposed to that 🧐

user5 OMG YN YOU REPLIED TO MY COMMENT???

user6 someone inform charles of his #1 fan pls

user7 HELL YEAH YN LN #3

user8 guys if yncharles happens it'll be like tayvis except she's travis

user9 YOU'RE SO RIGHT

troyesivan answer my texts bitch

ln.yn you leave me on read for days stfu

charles_leclerc playing red - yn ln

liked by lando, georgerussell63, and 1,023,184 others

charles_leclerc Leo and I like this song

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ln.yn HOLDDDDD THE DAMN PHONE

charles_leclerc hello

ln.yn ...hello

user11 focus less on girls and more on winning a race pls!!!

user12 holy annoying ahh

pierregasly shooting his shot

arthur_leclerc he better, he needs a date to lorenzo's wedding

user13 YNCHARLES?!?!?

oscarpiastri Can I petsit Leo?

charles_leclerc maybe, son

user13 il predestinato ❤️

carlossain55 i am more aesthetic than you

charles_leclerc whatever you say 🧎‍➡️

scuderiaferrari Our favorite (and Charles is there too) liked by author

lewishamilton roscoe's waiting on that playdate, mate

charles_leclerc we can't let our dogs become better partners than we are

user14 im concerned for yn

ln.yn posted a story!

ln.yn flying to monaco for the first time!!!

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user15 im worried for charles leclerc's safety

user16 She's so gorgeous 🥰

user17 omg my queen posted

charles_leclerc cute

charles_leclerc posted a story!

charles_leclerc Se préparer pour le jour du mariage avec les idiots 1 et 2

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user18 the leclerc brothers 🔥

arthur_leclerc les deux idiots dont vous parlez doivent être vous-même

ln.yn voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?

charles_leclerc lady marmalade

user19 eek!!!! i can't wait for lorenzo's wedding!!!

user20 yn in the comments AND charles replied WHAT

ln.yn

liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, and 843,871 others

ln.yn lorenzo and charlotte, i know i just met you, but i need you to adopt me. amazing, amazing wedding with an amazing, amazing date (thank you charles_leclerc)!!! i can't thank all of the leclercs for letting me be here for such an important and beautiful moment. safe to say, monaco is my new favorite place ❤️🤍

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user21 OMG YN AND CHARLES DATE???

user22 she needs to teach us her ways

user23 hg has been PINING

lorenzo_leclerc Thank you for accompanying Charles (we didn't want him to look lonely)

ln.yn it's okay (just pay me later) 😉

charles_leclerc ☹️

user24 she look so prettyyyy

user25 her and charles look so good together it's wild

user26 yn knew before anyone else did

charlixcx hot

ln.yn im partying 4 u

user27 yesss, we needed her to get new music inspo

user28 the charles songs are gonna SLAP

charles_leclerc thanks for coming with me, chérie

ln.yn thanks for inviting me 😊

charles_leclerc round 2? drinks?

user29 OH HE'S SMOOTH (operator????)

ln.yn yes, round 2, but this time on my turf (you're gonna love manhattan)

lando i ship it 👍

charles_leclerc

liked by scuderiaferrari, yourbestfriend, and 1,029,054 others

charles_leclerc Lorenzo, mon frère aîné, ma plus grande inspiration, et Charlotte, la meilleure belle-soeur de tous les temps, se sont mariés ! Je suis tellement heureuse pour vous deux, vous méritez tout et plus encore. J’ai passé des moments formidables à célébrer avec vous, je vous aime et je vous dois tout à tous les deux.

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carlossainz55 happy wedding, enzo and charlotte!

oscarpiastri Congratulations!!!

lorenzo_leclerc Je t'aime, mon frère

ln.yn charlotte and lorenzo, my pinterest board wedding and couple!!

charles_leclerc girl comment that on their post, on mine say i'm pretty

user30 DOWN BADDDDD

user31 i love them so much!!! i wish i were there

user32 charles looks yummy

user33 is this yn's secret acc?

ln.yn NO i would say on my main that he looks yummy

scuderiaferrari We love the Leclercs in this house

user34 yncharles mention!

maxverstappen1 congrats, guys! i wish you the best!

user35 mad max is being so nice 🥺

arthur_leclerc i looked better than you

charles_leclerc maybe shut up, this is ENZO'S DAY

a week later

charles_leclerc posted a story!

charles_leclerc date #2 with ln.yn 🫶

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user36 she's so beautiful, can charles fight

user37 i love them together

user38 AWWW i love my yncharles

user39 the next yn album will be a BANGER

user40 cuties!!!

ln.yn hey you're nice!

the first charles fic! hope y'all like it <333

[capseycartwright]

i’m just a girl, standing in front of a fandom with a poorly made canva wedding invite, asking if they like the sound of marriage of convenience may.

due to overwhelming real life grief i both cannot engage with this show rn and need a fun distraction, and as a girl who loves a silly thematic hook and a bit of alliteration: i bring u ✨ marriage of convenience may ✨

truly the only criteria is buck and eddie deciding a marriage of convenience is the most sensible thing they can do for each other and then silliness and romance ensue. the details are up to you clever lovely people.

i even made an ao3 collection for it here. so if you also need a distraction and a reason to write a marriage of convenience fic for buddie, please take this as your sign. it would make me very happy.

[double-dare-designs]

Mandala Wedding Collection

Personalize

Instant Download

https://www.zazzle.com/black_and_gold_mandala_wedding_save_the_date-256791184628558581

[sasyallgraphics]

Shabby Chic Pastel Wood Wedding

https://www.zazzle.com/collections/shabby_chic_pastel_wood_wedding-119996398837755678

These designs capture the rustic allure of weathered wood and pastel hues, creating a whimsical, yet elegant, atmosphere for your wedding celebration. Whether you're sending out invitations or accessorizing your big day, our collection will help you infuse your wedding with a touch of vintage romance. Explore now and prepare to make your day a true celebration of love and style.

[bluehoodiewoozi]

Paper Rings

Lee Seokmin (DK) x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: food mention.

[Kindergarten Teachers AU] Fearing that their two favourite teachers might break up, the kids decide to take your romance into their own tiny hands.

Big thank you to my beloved @haoboutyou for giving me the idea and helping me defeat writer's block (even if just for a day)! idk what I'd do without you, girl

“You know what? Fine! Have it your way!”

The car door was slammed closed with far too much force. A dog froze in the middle of passing by, eyeing you two with caution before continuing on his morning walk with his elderly owner mumbling words of concern under her breath.

“Well, have a good day.” Seokmin sighed and held the gate open for you, ever the gentleman even when he was annoyed and upset. “Please don’t skip lunch today.”

Eyes narrowed into slits, you turned on your heel to glare at him. “Don’t tell me what to do!”

The sound he let out was something of a groan mixed into a wail of despair. “I didn’t mean it like that, baby.”

You rolled your eyes and strolled past him with purpose. There was not a single glance spared his way until you were both well inside the building, surrounded by curious little children who looked like they had heard your argument just fine. One of them looked positively ready to start crying at the sight of you.

Sitting at your desk, you sighed. “What is it, kids?”

“Are you and Mister Minnie breaking up?” a wavering little voice dared to ask. Various noises of protest filled the room before you could even take a breath to prepare to answer the question. 

Sparing a quick look at your boyfriend, who was organising the toy shelves and deep in a conversation with one of the more shy kids, you shook your head. “No, we’re not.”

The children let out a collective breath of relief. Some high-fived and cheered in joy. A bitter part of you thought they might just be more invested in your relationship than your boyfriend was. You tried to wave the thought away as fast as it came.

“Because they’re already broken up!” a little boy suddenly declared, standing up and pointing fingers as if he’d been personally betrayed. He was all accusations and none of the ability to listen. You suspected he’d make a great – or at least popular – politician one day. 

“We are not,” you argued with all the patience only a kindergarten teacher could possibly muster. “We’re just… having a bad day.”

To your surprise and joy, no more questions were asked. Only curious glances remained. Still you thought it was the end of it. Another crisis averted, another day saved.

Behind your back, the kids exchanged looks of mischief and worry – they had a plan brewing.

Little Misoo toiled away at her desk, hands covered in charcoal smudges and ink. She had tried a big girl pen for the first time, having wanted to emphasise the seriousness of the situation, but quickly realised it was harder to wield than it looked, and so she had resorted back to her trusty coloured pencils to write the invitations. She had just ten more to go.

“I don’t understand why we’re doing this,” Jaemin finally voiced his concerns between clumsily peeling and sticking heart-shaped stickers on every piece of paper. “Everybody already knows. Why do they need invitations?”

Misoo gave him a scathing look. “You can’t have a wedding without invitations! Everybody knows that!”

Jaemin pouted. “Then should we make invitations for Mister Minnie and Miss (Y/n) as well?”

“No.” She looked at him like he’d just suggested unicorns and dragons could be best friends (they obviously couldn’t because all unicorns are vegans and dragons famously hate vegans). “They’re the bride and the groom! They don’t need invitations!”

“But do they even know they’re getting married?” 

“They will.” Misoo suspected she had the most patience any woman had ever possessed. She glanced towards the ceiling as if to challenge god for putting her in this situation and then gave Jaemin another glare. “Stop asking stupid questions and get back to work.”

A mysterious chocolate bar had found its way onto your desk. Even more mysteriously it was your favourite brand and flavour. Your boyfriend sat in a circle with the kids, reading their pre-nap fairytale, and snuck glances at you as if he was expecting something. 

You fought back a smile and grabbed a sticky note. 

When he returned to his seat after getting the kids to sleep, he found the pink piece of paper stuck on his laptop. On it, a little heart and two words: ‘You’re forgiven.’ He almost screamed of joy before remembering that he had to be quiet. He wore a dumb lovestruck smile for the rest of the hour.

Mingyu knew something was wrong the moment the kids stepped into the art room. He couldn’t quite put a finger on it but he just knew. And if the wide-eyed look Minghao gave him was anything to go by, he felt it too. 

It was only about 10 minutes in that he realised the problem: the kids were moving like they had a purpose. This was rare. This never happened on free art Fridays – usually the kids would spend the first twenty minutes trying to come up with an idea to execute. Today it took them less than twenty seconds.

Cautiously, he approached tiny Sohyun and Yunho – the first sharpening pencils at a furious pace and the other sorting through the unsharpened ones under her command. It was abundantly clear that Sohyun was working the boy like it was the military. One had to admire her leadership abilities, even if they were a little rough and loud around the edges. 

“So what’s today’s project?” he asked, trying his best not to wince when the pencil’s tip snapped in the sharpener.

Sohyun sighed in frustration before skillfully removing the graphite from between the blades and restarting the sharpening process. “Pencil confetti.”

Mingyu blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“Pencil. Confetti.” She repeated it slowly as if fearing he was dumb and wouldn’t get it otherwise. 

He tried not to take offense. “For…?”

“For the wedding,” she explained like it was obvious before gasping and turning to Misoo. “You need to give him an invitation!”

The other girl facepalmed theatrically before rushing over to him with a surprisingly neatly folded paper card. Before he could ask her about it, she was rushing to the other side of the classroom to hand an identical one to Minghao. 

‘INVITAISION’ it read in big bold multicolour letters, a large pink heart-shaped sticker sitting right under the word. 

Mingyu opened the card and his jaw just about dropped (granted, it took him about two minutes to decipher the writing and make sense of it; he couldn’t complain because he hadn’t expected any kindergarten kids to know how to write anything at all). 

“Seokmin and (Y/n) are getting married?!” He made eye contact with Minghao who gave him an equally shocked look. 

“We’re throwing them a marriage!” Hyesoo declared happily and held out a little string tied into a circle. “I’m making rings!”

Mingyu fought a smile. “So, pencil confetti and string rings?”

“We wanted to make flower rings but it’s too early to go outside yet,” Jaemin informed him with a pout. 

“And flower confetti,” Sohyun sighed and continued working the pencil sharpener like it was her day job and she was getting paid per shaving.

“... Want me to get you guys some real flowers?” Mingyu asked after a moment of thought. It wasn’t every day that the kids planned a wedding, after all. 

The kids’ faces lit up with joy like little Christmas trees. If he hadn’t wanted to do this, he would’ve felt compelled now. 

“And we could make them paper rings,” Minghao suggested with a little smile. “They would last longer than flowers.”

The kids screamed in excitement.

You leaned closer to your boyfriend, eyeing the kids suspiciously as you did so. “They’re being weird.”

Too busy to even look up —Seokmin was neck-deep in his emails—, he hummed. “Weird how?”

“Like … quiet weird.”

His attention was fully on you now. “Oh, that’s no good.”

“Look at them!” you whispered and nodded towards where the kids were supposed to be playing on the carpet. 

Instead of messing around with little trucks and dolls and teddy bears, they were braiding ribbons into each others’ hair and handing out cards and whispering secrets. You felt like you’d entered an alternate dimension. 

Seokmin raised a single brow and nodded. “Okay, this is scary.”

“Should we—” you hesitated, “—do something?”

He shrugged. “But what if we do something and they get noisy and crazy again?”

“Good point.”

The big hour was growing nearer. The kids were buzzing with excitement, ready to see their plan in action. In half an hour, it would be time to go outside to play games and throw the biggest party of their lives. 

“Okay, do we have everything?” Minsoo asked, standing in the middle of the circle on the carpet. She glanced towards the teachers’ desks – the married-couple-to-be were still unaware of their plans and working on something on their computer. She was happy with the sight, for now, and turned back to her co-conspirators. “Invitations?”

“All given out,” Jaemin replied.

“Confetti?”

“Pencil or rose petal?” Sohyun wondered. She received no answer. “Well, I have both.”

“Perfect,” Minsoo approved and continued checking her mental wedding list. “Rings?”

Bomin – universally recognised as the resident expert in paper crafts – held two rings out on his palm. The other kids made noises of approval. 

“Music?” 

Eunji nodded and hummed in confirmation. She was the only kid in the group to have a phone, even if it did only let her call her mom, listen to about fifteen songs and play Candy Crush. By all accounts, she was the coolest kid in town.

“Priest?” 

Silence. The kids turned to look at Yunho who let out a whine and slumped backwards until he was lying on the ground. “Why do I have to be the priest?”

“Because it’s a boring people job,” Sohyun told him with utter seriousness and all he could do was sigh in defeat.

Mina held up her hand and asked, “Shouldn’t we get Miss (Y/n) a wedding dress?”

“No, because she’s already pretty,” was the general consensus. 

Minsoo looked at her friends, her companions, her co-conspirators, her little minions. She nodded in approval. “People, we have a wedding to do.”

“Kids, don’t wander too far off,” you reminded them gently as they rushed outside in a single file. Somehow it felt like they were even more enthusiastic about playing outside than usual. 

Odd, you thought and pushed the thought out of your head. It had, after all, been an overall strange day. Then again, the weather was lovely and you suspected you would’ve been similarly excited if you were in their shoes. 

Still, it was weird that they were all heading in the same direction as if led by an invisible tour guide.

Seokmin nudged your side. “You’re right. They are being weird today.”

“Right?” Your brows furrowed. “What is up with them?”

“You know, I think they might have heard our fight this morning.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Honey, they asked me if we were breaking up as soon as I got to the room. I am sure they heard us.”

“Maybe that’s why they’re so weird,” he concluded with a click of his tongue before turning to you. “I’m glad you forgave me though. I’m sorry for being so dumb.”

A sigh forced its way out of your body. “You’re not dumb. You’re just … less hesitant than me.” Your fingers brushed against yours. “You know I want a future with you, I just— It hasn’t been all that long.”

“It’s been two years and eight months,” he supplied with a quiet chuckle but there was no malice behind those words. He leaned forward to kiss your cheek. “But who’s counting? Not me.”

“Right,” you deadpanned and jabbed him in the ribs with all the force of a bumblebee crashing into a human body. Your fingers wrapped around his and gave them a squeeze. “Just give me some time, okay? Soon, but not yet.”

“Soon, but not yet,” he parroted with a smile that said he was more than willing to wait.

The padding of feet pulled you out of the moment. In front of you stood Jaemin, hands politely behind his back, cheeks flushed red from the spring chill. He cleared his throat. 

“You need to come with me,” he declared and didn’t bother to wait for an answer before heading right back where he came from.

You shared a look with your boyfriend. “Did he mean the both of us?”

“I think so,” he said and shrugged before following after the boy. You sighed and did the same. 

The world came to a standstill for just a moment when you reached the old tree in the middle of the yard. It seemed that all of the kids had gathered exactly there, forming two neat groups with a little path between them leading to Yunho wearing glasses that were certainly not his own and a top hat. Mingyu and Minghao stood on either side of him with wide mischievous grins, in on a scheme that had clearly been created under your nose without you ever suspecting a thing. 

“What is this?” you asked no one in particular. 

“Your wedding!” Minsoo declared as Jaemin all but dragged your boyfriend to the other end of the makeshift path. 

Seokmin wore a puzzled smile as Mingyu started dusting his jacket and fixing his hair like a fuzzy mother. “Our what?”

“Wedding,” the kids repeated in unison like it was the most obvious thing. When you still stared at them with nothing but confusion in your eyes, they let out a collection of little sighs. 

Sohyun called out, “You’re getting married!”

“We are?” 

“Yes!” 

“Why?” Seokmin wondered while dodging Mingyu’s attempts to straighten his collar. “How come?”

“Because you had a fight and then Miss (Y/n) said you two were having a bad day,” Minsoo explained to you like you two were the five-year-old ones and they were the much more experienced adults. “And my mom always says she was the happiest on her wedding day, so now you are getting married so your day can be happy too.”

No one could argue with logic. You admitted defeat and let the girls adjust your clothes and put a little flower into your hair.

When they were done, like the woman on a mission that she was, Minsoo handed you a single red rose – a real one, you noted in astonishment – and held out her hand for you to take. Hesitantly, you did as expected. 

The moment your fingers touched hers, you almost burst out laughing when you heard the beginning notes of ‘Love Is an Open Door’. 

With a proud grin on her face, she led you down the aisle towards the old tree – towards your boyfriend. You really did start laughing when the kids began throwing flower petals onto your path. 

“You guys put a lot of thought into this, huh?” you asked.

She only smiled and led you to the make-shift altar made of an old tree log. You stood next to Seokmin who offered you a matching amused smile and took your hand from hers, giving it an encouraging squeeze.

“We’re getting married,” he whispered as if he couldn’t believe it.

Frankly, you couldn’t either. Especially when just this morning you had been arguing over this very thing. Funny how the universe works, you thought and stepped closer to his side. “We’re getting married.”

“Ladies and gentlemans,” Yunho began in a faux-official tone as soon as the song ended, holding a notebook up like he could read, “we are here to marry Miss (Y/n) and Mister Minnie. Does anybody object?”

Silence filled the yard. You glanced back to find the kids giving each other glares as if to dare the other to make even a squeak. One could rest assured violence would erupt if the smallest sound was heard. 

Yunho seemed to breathe out in relief before continuing, “Do you, Mister Minnie, take Miss (Y/n) as your wife?”

“I do,” Seokmin told him, not even bothering to fight his giggles. 

“Stop laughing! This is a serious matter!” Sohyun scolded him from the first row. 

Seokmin schooled his expression and cleared his throat, standing up straighter as if he was a mere soldier that had just received an order from his commanding officer. With all the seriousness he could muster, he repeated, “I do.”

“Good,” Yunho approved and turned to you. “Do you, Miss (Y/n), take Mister Minnie as your husband?”

You nodded. “Yes, I do.”

“Perfect! Then I announce you–”

“The vows! Don’t forget the vows!” Bomin called out from the crowd.

Jaemin gasped. “And the rings!”

Yunho seemed a little overwhelmed by the demands of the many but quickly gathered himself. “Right. Mister Minnie, do you have any vows?”

Seokmin’s lips twitched. “Sure.”

“You do?” you gasped and turned to him. “Well, come on then.”

“Do you not have vows for me then?” He pressed his free hand to his chest, feigning a wound. 

You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t realise I would be getting married today, so…”

“Then you’d better think quick because these kids are ruthless,” Mingyu leaned over to tell you.

Seokmin chuckled and cleared his throat once more. He took your other hand in his as well. “My (Y/n), my beloved, my moon, my stars, my sunshine–”

“This was a mistake,” you heard one of the kids mumble in the crowd, clearly disgusted by the amount of honorifics your boyfriend had decided to bestow upon you. Maybe she wasn’t the romantic type. 

“–I love you and I adore you. I didn’t expect to marry you today but, well, here we are, getting married, today, right here. They say that if you find the one you love, you feel like you can live forever. I am glad you’ve chosen me to spend your forever with.”

The kids cooed and awwed and squealed in delight. You would’ve joined them if you didn’t feel so suspiciously close to crying. 

“It’s your turn,” Yunho whispered to you after a moment of silence. 

You blinked back to reality and squeezed Seokmin’s hands. “Alright, well, I didn’t have anything prepared but… I can’t imagine a life without you in it, Seokmin. I can’t imagine waking up to anything other than your attempts at coffee. I can’t imagine coming to work to the sound of anything other than your singing. You mean everything to me. This wedding came as a surprise but I am so glad it did because it means I can marry the man of my dreams.”

The children erupted into cheers as Minghao held out two rings for you to take. Seokmin slipped one around your ring finger with gentle, nervous grace. You did the same for him and smiled wide when he leaned forward to kiss your lips. 

Boys fought grimaces of disgust while girls giggled and squealed in delight. ‘Love Is an Open Door’ commenced playing once again as Yunho ushered you back down the aisle to be showered in flower confetti.

“Not at all what I thought they were planning,” Seokmin leaned towards you to whisper. “I did not expect this.”

“Is it weird that I’m not mad about it?” you asked and rested your head against his shoulder. “I know I said I wasn’t ready for marriage this morning but–”

“As far as I care, this marriage is all that counts,” he told you with a giddy smile and pressed another kiss to your lips. He held his left hand out for you to see, wriggling his fingers to show off his new paper jewellery. “I have a ring to prove it now.”