#White fluffy clouds.... White fluffy dress.... Wedding...

[pearlywritings]

Sometimes the name doesn't matter

synopsis: sometimes it matters that you are his wife. PART 3

pairings: Childe, Neuvillette, Pantalone, Wriothesley x fem!reader (separately)

tw: fluff, established relationship (married/engaged/mated), secret relationship, immortal reader in Neuvi's part

word count: 6.1k+ words

a/n: part 1 and part 2 can be read here!

Childe

Spurred by the whistles and a whip of a coachman three fine white horses are trotting along the snow-covered road, dragging a big sleigh. Made of the sturdiest wood and painted in red and gold, the construction is effortlessly sliding on ice crust, almost lulling you under all those warm blankets and furs Ajax has thrown over your half-sitting half-lying bodies. You are glad to have this instead of jolting in a carriage (not like it’ll even be able to ride through all this snow), sure to have an aching arse even under the thick sheepskin coat, and instead of whatever machinery your lover could’ve gotten his hands onto due to his position - otherwise it wouldn’t have been so romantic.

Resting your head onto his shoulder you sigh blissfully, puffing out a small cloud of warm air. The fluffy-looking firs, tall pines and naked larches are flashing past in a magical gleam of snow-covered branches; you think you see two grayish squirrels chasing one another on a tree on your left.

“Oh, little minxes. A couple of seconds later and that snow could’ve ended up on our heads.”

You giggle at the young man’s comment, taking your gloved hand out of the sable muff and reaching to adjust the hat with earflaps (which he once again refused to tie under his chin) on his head. Before you can retrieve, a bigger hand clad in mitten wraps around yours and brings it to the chapped pale lips. As if spellbound you watch him press a tender kiss just where your ring finger joins the palm - right where the engagement ring is hidden under the thick material.

Now it’s hard to tell if your cheeks are rosy from cold or the swirling emotions.

“A little bit more and we will be in Morepesok,” he says softly, deep pools of his blue eyes staring back at you adoringly. “I can’t wait to share the news with ma, pa, sisters and brothers…”

You know he’s written them a letter right after you said ‘yes” to him, too excited to wait. So excited in fact, that he couldn’t sit still in expectation for the response, so he solicited an impromptu week-long vacation with the help of Pulcinella, and here you are, on your merry way to his home village.

“I can’t wait for that too,” you smile, leaning up to peck his nose, eliciting the same smile from him. “But I worry a little - will they be happy for us? I mean, that it’s me who you are going to marry?”

“Absolutely!” He nods enthusiastically and you have to readjust his hat again. “They all love you very much, I promise you. And if I am being completely honest, mom and Tonia did keep asking me when I intended to make you my wife during the last couple of times we visited.”

“Wait, really? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was already planning a proposal at the time - didn’t want to spoil it by accidentally letting my tongue loose.”

It’s hard to believe that this man is one of the Tsaritsa’s Harbingers. Childe is surprisingly good at separating his work and off work behavior, turning into a completely normal, maybe just a tiny bit unhinged, young man as soon as his family is involved. You know he’s built this facade to keep them and you away from harm, but you also know it comes from the heart as well.

“Then I can only hope we can bring the female members of your family to the capital soon - I want them to participate in the wedding dress shopping.”

You are immediately gathered into a tight embrace and your laughter is smothered by the fur on his collar. Yes, he is the Eleventh Harbinger, Tartaglia, Tsaritas’s soldier, Childe… But in moments like this he is just Ajax. Your Ajax.

His parents’ house meets you both with the quiet creak of the gates, the barking of two big fluffy malamutes outside, the clink of the horseshoe against the wood on top of the front door, the warmth of a well-heated inside and a bit taller than the last time you saw him Teucer, who runs full speed at his big brother, practically tackling him.

“Big brother is home, big brother is home!”

Ajax joyously laughs, somehow managing to take off his coat and dropping it to the colorful carpet at the front door before hoisting the exclaiming boy into his arms. Kicking off your felt boots to step from the anteroom, you watch with a smile as he squeals when your lover presses his cold cheek to the warm smaller one, squirming in the strong arms. 

Not a minute later more of his siblings appear, closely followed by their mom - freckled, with her ginger with gray hair tied in a thick braid and an apron thrown over her green dress, the woman smiles brightly and, letting her children surround their brother, walks to you with arms spread, ready to embrace you.

“Mother, my clothes might be cold,” you try to warn her, but she doesn’t listen, hugging you anyway.

“As if it can affect me! Oh, I’m so happy to see you, my dear. How was your trip? Are you tired, hungry? I’m almost done with lunch, and in the meantime I can ask my husband to throw in the firewood and heat the bathhouse for you two.

“It’s very kind of you,” you smile, wrapping your arms to give her a hug in return. “But I think we’ll wash up in the evening - I really doubt Ajax’s sibling will let him go in the following couple of hours.”

Before she can say anything, a tall, wide man appears from the other room. His beard and hair are gingerly brown with gray too, thick brows naturally furrowed. By the rosy cheeks, the remnants of snowflakes melting on his hair and the choice of clothing you guess he’s just returned to the house through the back door - probably after chopping wood.

Upon lowering his gaze to you, his facial features smooth out.

“If it isn’t my son and a dear soon-to-be daughter-in-law!” His gruff voice booms across the house, immediately redirecting everyone’s attention to you and making you blush. “I knew Ajax was too impatient and would rather come to visit and bring his fiance along than wait for a response letter.”

As he moves to greet you properly and help with discarding the outer clothes, you notice your gingerhead whispering something to his siblings, to which they giggle and throw glances at you. Catching the gaze of your lover, you lift an eyebrow, as if asking ‘should I be concerned?”. But he only shakes his head with a smile and ushers everyone to the dining room.

However, the curiosity is getting better of you, as throughout the evening you keep catching the glances, watch Tonia whispering something to her mom, and the woman giving Ajax a ‘really?’ kind of look, but with a fond smile, and then his dad slapping his back with a boisterous laugh, saying something along the lines ‘I was the same way with your mom too’.

So you confront him once you are left alone in the room.

“Hey, foxy, what’s going on?”

“Hm?” He lowers the blanket that he’s just tucked inside the duvet cover and reaches for the sheets. “What do you mean, bunny?”

“Whatever you’ve been doing,” you put one of the pillows down and reach out for the other as well as the pillowcase. 

“And what’s that ‘whatever’ I’ve been doing?” You don’t miss the sly smile finding its way onto his face. You huff.

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

The man hums, tucking the edges of the sheet between the mattress and the bed.

“Nothing you should worry about. I just asked them all to practice a little.”

“Practice?’ Cocking your head, you throw both pillows onto the bed. “Wait, did you start planning something for the wedding?”

“Not quite. Rather for after it.”

Confused, but intrigued, you step closer when your lover sits down and beckons you, being dragged into his lap a second later. Blue eyes look at you in an unspoken fascination, as he leans forward to place a kiss to the corner of your mouth, prompting you to loosely wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“Since we are getting married, I deduced that it would be only right for my family to call you my wife. Thus I asked them to get acquaintanced with the term, so they could start doing it as soon as we are pronounced husband and wife.”

You blink at him once, twice. After the third time you exhale, shaking your head, but the lift of your lips doesn’t go unnoticed by your fiance.

“I should’ve known you’d pull something like this, I am not even surprised, let alone mad. But they could just keep addressing me by my name. Plus your siblings already call me ‘big sister’ and your parents made me an honor of acknowledging me as the ‘daughter’. It won’t change much.”

“But it will!” He pouts and you can’t resist the urge to pinch his cheek. “You will be my wife and I want everyone to help me show it! Does it bother you though?”

Looking into those uncharacteristically begging eyes, you really can’t deny him his little antics. Not like you were going to in the first place.

“No, no, I don’t mind, love. Honestly, it's very sweet how excited you are. Makes me look forward to it.”

“Yeah?” Look at him, smiling like a satisfied cat, who's had too much sour cream for its own good. His embrace tightens on you a little.

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence passes as Ajax enjoys the many kisses you pepper to his face, squeezing his eyes shut, grinning, boyishly eager for more.

“Do you think I should ask the whole village to do the same?”

“Ajax, no.”

Nuevillette

“Mother, do you mind helping me a little? I can’t reach over there…

“I’d be delighted, my dear.”

Neuvillette watches with a fond look as you put the tea cup down and stand up to walk closer to Verenata and assist her with whatever the potion maker needs. Your figure is ethereal, clad in the finest fabrics, flowing with every step and gently dropping as you crouch gracefully to hoist the melusine in your arms. From above the rim of his silver goblet the Hydro Dragon can't tear his eyes from the way one of your many “daughters” wraps an arm around your neck and reaches up, while the corner of your lips, which he can see from his position at the table, is turned upwards.

“Mother is so kind and patient,” Laume says just a step away from Neuvillette’s chair. When the man turns his head to look at her, there is Flo standing too.

“Yes, and she is so beautiful,” the other melusine sighs, clasping her hands together. “And she always brings us such nice and comfortable clothes…”

“Monsieur Neuvillette married a wonderful woman,” a couple more melusines nearby agree and there is a warm and fuzzy feeling takes place in the Judex’s chest.

Marriage… Such a beautiful concept humans came up with to validate the union of two. It begins with the wedding - a day full of happy tears and blissful smiles, shared vows to be together in sickness and in health, sweet claims of love and promises of joyful life ahead. Then this very life begins and for beings like you and your husband it’s a long, but welcome trip.

You’ve been claimed by each other for quite some time before the more ‘mortal appropriate’ ritual, and the melusines - the wonderful creatures Neuvillette once took under his wing - were aware and happy for your relationship. And it was actually their idea to hold a wedding too, once Sigewinne naturally asked how the two of you planned to introduce your bond in civil words to humans.

And it was their initiative to start calling you “mother”. With your actions you quickly became one for them anyway, and the girls actively sought your company when it was possible. Thus, such tea parties at the Merusea Village as today are a common occurrence (besides, you always welcome them because it's a great opportunity to dig your husband out of the pile of responsibilities he tends to bury himself under).

However, lately Neuvillette started noticing that when he heard the word leave the girls’ mouths, a strange feeling began rising in his chest. Even though not quite familiar with the concept of jealousy, the Judex was sure it was not the case - he loved when the melusines called you that. So, he could not really put his finger on why the action caused such an indescribable reaction.

He decided to observe. On his walks throughout the city, the man seeked the sights of parents with children to attentively listen and watch while leisurely passing by or stopping at the shopping booths to linger on the scene. He was quick to note that the interactions were hardly different from the ones between you and the girls - kids would call for their mothers in all the same tones: when happy, when asking for help, when seeking comfort and many other typical occurrences he’d seen a handful of times before.

What really caught Neuvillette’s eye was the way the parents behaved. And soon his focus shifted to the married couples instead. As reserved as the nobles seemed to appear, the ones in love still managed to slip a murmured ‘my dear’, or ‘beloved’ or ‘my sweet [Name]’ in their speech. All the things the Hydro Dragon was all too used to call you too, relishing in the image of your loving smile and joyfully crinkling eyes as you responded in kind.

But it is like a waterfall pours on him when a week later, after that tea party where he once again sunk deep in thought, a keen pointy ear makes out a simple word in the crowd.

"Wife"

Male’s heart flutters. The understanding quickly dawns on him, even more so when his eyes find the couple on the other side of the road, - it was no simple term to introduce the partner to the third party. No, the tenderly spoken word was used by that man to address his lover, to softly draw her attention to him, to remind her he is happy she is holding such a position in his life…

At least that’s what kind of puzzle pieces together in Neuvillette’s head. The couple is long gone, yet he is still standing there, hand resting on the handle of his cane and eyes staring into space.

He starts to remember all the sweet names he called you, each and every one stored in his memory with the heart-warming images of your reactions. There are all kinds of those: my love, my pearl, lizzy (affectionate from ‘lizard’; you used to tell him that dragons are just big lizards and it kinda stuck), kisses-stealer, fairy-tail nymph… The man is surprisingly creative with his words when it comes to you.

Sure, he calls you his mate, quite often too, but to his chagrin it has never occurred to him that he could call you ‘his wife’ too! It’s so simple, so absurdly logical, yet it took him weeks to figure out.

Humans are truly fascinating.

When Neuvillette returns to his office in the Palais Mermonia you are already there, lazing on a sofa with a bunch of papers, in which your husband guesses the script of probably another upcoming play of Furina. And judging by the more than a half pages turned you’ve been waiting for him for a while.

When the door closes and the cane disappears in the myriad of sparkling bubbles, you lift your gaze, and a smile immediately lights up your lovely features.

”Neuvi,” You speak softly, getting on your feet and leaving the script behind, “I hoped we’d depart on the afternoon stroll together. So imagine my disappointment when Sedene told me you had left just ten minutes ago! Oh, I knew I’d be late if Lady Furina had kept me for another minute, yet I still hoped I’d be on time…”

As you are approaching him, the Judex remembers the melusine’s words upon arrival: “Mother waits inside”. This makes all his previous thoughts resurface, and when he meets you half-way and reaches for both your hands to place a kiss to the back of each, Neuvillette has half a mind to try out his new discovery.

“Our Archon enjoys your company a lot, and, knowing you, you are not really mad,” you roll your eyes playfully, tiptoeing to peck the tip of his nose, murmuring a quiet ‘hush, let me be a tiny bit indignant’. “And I’d be honored to keep you company for the evening stroll,” and then, after a little pause of hesitation, he adds, “wife.”

He watches as the previously present smile on your face grows even bigger, but after a couple of seconds starts to fade slowly, eyes squinting a little bit to stare at him in hardly-concealed curiosity.

“What was that?”

“What was what, dear wife?”

“This!” As if to emphasize your words you point your finger to his mouth, and it’s Neuvillette’s lips’ turn to curl in a small smile.

“It’s something I hoped to discuss with you,” his gloved fingertips soothingly brush over your knuckles and soon your hand is clasped into his, as the man leads you both back to the sofa. “You see,” he starts when you sit down, “I am fascinated with the notion hidden behind the word ‘mother’ the melusines like to call you. That’s who you are for them both in reality and in terms. I’ve made some observations, and figured that sometimes humans in marriage also use the…familial terms to address one another. It seemed lovely to me and I wanted to try it out with you. What do you think?”

You hum in thought, replaying in your head the way Neuvillette spoke to you twice. It is hard to explain, but you somehow immediately see the appeal and understand why your lover got hooked on it. Seems lovely indeed. You wonder, what if you…

“Will you tell me more about those observations on our evening stroll, husband? Ooh, it does sound wonderful!”

Mark him stunned, but for a moment Judex grows speechless. The violet depths of his eyes swirl with adoration as you clap your hands gleefully, and he knows, that from now on your everyday routine will never be the same

“With pleasure, wife.”

Pantalone

Dancing snowflakes are slowly descending in their tender waltz and are gleaming like the tiniest of gems in the streetlights’, enveloping the already magical winter capital of the Cryo region in a solemn atmosphere. The white cover of the ground is crunching with every step of a passerby and every wheel rotation of the fancy-looking carriages, while the street is a jumble of fur coats and heavy military overcoats, finally breathing life into the afternoon-quiet city.

It’s a wonderful evening, too marvelous to spend it at home, too enchanting to miss the new ballet at the Bolshoy Theater, the true accumulation of the Tsaritsa’ nation’s nobility and intelligentsia. The wonder of Snezhnayan architecture is both the place to rest and enjoy the purest form of art and home to many gossip circulating in society. Some fresh and just hours old, some ancient and undying, like the topic of the Ninth Harbinger’s lovers.

Lord Pantalone is well-known and often-praised for his contribution to the Snezhnaya’s economy, along with extending the Fatui influence all across the Teyvat. But also he is quite famous for the women he appears in public with. It’s always someone new, it’s never the same one as before. Different shapes, different hair, different style - it is impossible to guess the raven-haired man’s tastes. However everybody knew - the Harbinger never entertained the company of the ladies who made attempts to catch his attention. Those ladies themselves say as much.

The Regrator’s companions never open their mouths, never utter a word - at least not when there are people around. There has never been a single name, never a remembered face - all women wear the mask covering the upper half of it, concealing the identity of yet another lucky choice of the rich man. 

Never the same woman - always the same mask.

This evening does not disappoint the gathered crowd - lifting their gazes, directing attention to the Harbinger’s personal box, they once again see the notorious mask. The long fringe of wine-red hair is coquettishly framing the ever-lasting piece of leather, similarly flaming lips are tugged in a haughty smile - as if the young lady doesn’t realize that once the night is over, she’s going to be discarded like many others before her. The dress according to the latest fashion trends and the beautiful garnet necklace do not surprise the audience anymore - even known for his love for replacements, Lord Pantalone dresses his partners royally.

The man himself has chosen yet another black costume, with a dark burgundy shirt hidden underneath and bird-shaped garnet brooch on the left side of his chest. Multiple beautiful rings catch the light when he lifts his gloved hand to adjust diamond-shaped glasses, before turning his head and addressing something to his tonight’s escort. She boisterously laughs, saying something in response, but even if attendants tried to strain their ears, they wouldn’t hear anything so far away. Even harder it gets when the third ring of the bell echoes across the theater chamber and both the Harbinger and the woman are forgotten, until the performance is over.

So no one sees when the ring-decorated hand reaches for a smaller female one, fingers sliding under the chintz-covered palm, thumb immediately reaching to tug on the hem of the glove, so the thin cool lips could press against the small patch of bared skin. A glimpse of a smile is what Pantalone gets when you glance at him with amusement playing on your lips.

Always the same mask, never the same woman, huh? 

Pride has long slithered into your heart, yet it still lifts its snake-like head every time your act of decisiveness succeeds, happily hissing. Every time it’s a test of your skills, a gamble with the eyes of ones around you, and every time you hit the jackpot, leaving the people guessing, staying the only one in possession of the banker despite the speculations.

As long as Her Majesty Tsaritsa is aware of your existence and the place you occupy next to Pantalone, you are free to do anything you want with his reputation relationship-wise. And he allows it, because should you desire the whole world - he’ll throw it to your feet like the cheapest trinket. One would say it’s because he is prideful too - he knows it’s because he loves his wife.

Loves to the point of entertaining the masquerades she stages whenever the two of you need to appear in public. It plays wonderfully into his possessive nature and desire to keep his precious beautiful wife to himself and helps with the enemies - “changing the ladies” minimizes the chances of putting at risk his one and only. Not like many know of you in the first place.

It���s a win-win arrangement for you as well - there is still an opportunity to cling to his arm, to use his expensive cologne, to play with the rings on his fingers and sneakily make out in a dark corner where no one can see. To be tugged into his lap in the carriage on the way back to his mansion, to have his long fingers undo the strings of the mask, and once the piece of leather falls onto the floor, have the palms slide down the sides of your neck, swiftly fiddling with the heavy necklace, only to let it be, the caress the shoulders, pushing the sleeves down… 

…to leave them at the elbows and grab your arms to push your back into his chest as the warm lips press to the juncture between the neck and the shoulder.

And what if you’ve lost your name in the process of this disguising? Having been an actress a long time ago made you used to it. But isn’t it fun to come up with the new ideas for your next performance? Your husband gifts you way too many dresses and jewelry sets - you must find use to all of them! He now has to simply spend a bit more on the wigs and makeup to fit each combination of fabric and gems.

“Did my wife have a pleasant evening?” The velvet voice of the man behind you caresses the ear and you meet his gaze in the full-size mirror in front of you. Amethyst eyes sparkle in the bedroom light and you smile coquettishly, red lips stretching seductively.

“Did she? How could I know?” You tease, reaching to your back to undo the corset, just to be stopped by his hands, fingers digging into the dozens of strings. “And don’t you know, Mr Harbinger, that it’s very offending for the woman, when the man speaks about another lady in her presence?”

“Oh, I wasn’t aware,” he muses, tugging a bit harsher on the ties and making you gasp, “that my dear wife can be jealous of herself.”

“When you know her poorly. Tsk-tsk, what a bad husband you are.”

Pantalone laughs behind you, shaking his head at your untrue words, and you reach to your head to remove the fiery wig. By the time Pantalone is done with your corset, you are done letting your naturally beautiful locks down, sighing in relief from both the released ribcage and hair roots.

The dress, having lost its vital support on your body, falls to the ground next to the wig and quickly becomes forgotten as you two step away from the mirror.

Your husband is still mostly clothed, having only eased out of his coat and unbuttoned the jacket, so you busy your hands with tugging the black article off and then reaching for the gleaming tiny buttons on the shirt. Your figures bask in the warm light of the room as you continue undressing the man - your eyes concentrated on the expensive fabrics, his - on the lovely expression of your face.

“But if you must know,” Pantalone raises his brow, when you look up at him, a much sincere and tender smile lighting up your visage, “your wife loved the evening very much.”

And that’s everything he’s ever wanted to hear. Fingers tangle in your hair, you harshly inhale, and his lips are on yours. Lipstick is smudging, your fingers accidentally catch the silver chain, and his glasses get slightly askew, but it doesn’t matter. His wife loved another thing he’s done for her. The banker’s day has ended in a great profit.

Wriothesley

Fortress of Meropide is a huge metal labyrinth of floors and corridors, where noise is never-ending even in the late hours of the night. The metal box which is the Duke’s office however, is constructed to mute the annoying sounds or else the one inside would have a very hard time concentrating.

Usually, even the ruckus happening outside and the clanking of the heavy machines underneath can’t sway Wriothesley’s attention if he has his mind set on doing the paperwork, even something as boring as bills. Today, however, the man has caught himself multiple times glancing at the clock he’s hung up a couple of years ago - there is no way to tell the time all the way down underwater, true, but it serves him a greater purpose. It helps him count hours and minutes before you arrive.

Tuesdays and Thursdays are the days when you take a half of the day off to come down to the Fortress to meet up with your husband. You both quickly realized that traveling back and forth together in either of the directions (fortress or home in the city) would be way too inconvenient. So, you improvise by visiting him throughout the week a couple of times and then he comes home to properly spend the weekend, having learnt to delegate his responsibilities to the most trustworthy guards. So far you’ve been extremely pleased with the arrangement, and the Fortress’s crew have learnt your face by heart to not cause you any obstacles in reaching your beloved’s office.

Today, nevertheless, something must’ve gone wrong. Pale blue eyes are practically drilling the minute hand of the previously mentioned clock, watching it moving further and further from the tiny 10-minute bar, which should’ve marked your appearance at the top of his stairs. And he gets it, everything could’ve happened, something as trivial as the queue at the pastry shop that might’ve gotten longer today, but when the delay surpasses the half-hour mark, the warden puts his fountain pen down and follows it by the creak of the chair legs on the metal floor.

As he descends down the stairs - each clunking under the heavy soles of his boots - a fleeting thought of you stopping by at the medical bay first is immediately brushed aside - his office is right on the path of entering the Fortress’s main body, and you love your husband too much to let him sulk in his longing. 

When he pushes the colossal doors open, eyes instantly start searching the area ahead of him. However, nothing unusual is spotted - two guards are standing at the front of his abode, not even flinching at the unpleasant scraping noise the metal makes; a couple of inmates are walking past them, bowing their heads right as they see the appearing the figure of their warden - Wriothesley simply nods and sends them off with a flicker of his hand; then there is Monglane’s desk with its irreplaceable owner. And no trace of his beloved wife.

Closing the doors behind him, Wriothesley comes up to the guards, inquiring if they’ve happened to see you. Getting a negative response, he hums and starts walking forward, to the corridor leading to the elevator, not bothering with asking the very same questions to Monglane.

With every passing minute, especially while waiting for the elevator, the man starts realizing how impatient he is growing, if the tapping of his foot and crossed arms are not an indicator enough. Even with just one day apart, he’s missed you so awfully much, your adoring smile, your soft voice and cute little giggles, that he feels rightfully robbed since you are not yet in his embrace, showering his face with kisses and then whining pretentiously because he’s forgotten to shave once again. Sometimes you swear he is not a big bad wolf, but a mean huge hedgehog.

He almost stomps inside the cabin the second its doors slide open and pushes the button to the reddening of his fingertip. It is a long trip up to the next level, and he admits he’s tugged on his leather straps wrapped around his arms a couple of times, but Archons, how little it all matters, when, exiting the elevator, he finally hears such a familiar voice. Your voice.

Your husband’s legs carry him like they obtained a mind of their own, following the full of amusement lilt he knows can belong only to you, just to come to a halt next to the wooden boxes piled up on the side of the path. 

He can see you, quite clearly, adorned in a cute pair of pants and a shirt, shoulders covered in a crocheted shawl - always ready for the cool air of the Fortress, yet looking so comfy, that Wriothesley can't help but desire to tackle you to the sofa in his office and cuddle this instant. And he would've done just that, if the conversation you've been having didn't catch his attention.

“No, it's wrong again. It's not Britney, it's Brytnneigh.

“But you are saying the same thing!"

"No, it is not B-r-i-t-n-e-y. It's B-r-y-t-n-n-e-i-g-h."

"Slower, please."

In the second voice the warden easily guesses a new guard that has just been employed a couple of days ago. He remembers signing the papers his weekend substitute brought him on Monday. Wriothesley also remembers how the man swore that he’d passed on to the newbie all the information and training he needed to know. But, it appears, he forgot to mention the most important thing…

“Did you make sure to write my name with two N’s?” Your voice is laced with hardly concealed mirth, and, though he can’t see the face of the guard talking to you, your husband is sure the poor young man looks quite miserable.

“Yes, mademoiselle, I did.”

“Wonderful, but it’s ‘madame’, I am a married woman after all. But no worries, I am flattered you think I look so young,” Wriothesley shakes his head with a silent chuckle. He adores you so much, but maybe it really is time to stop your little play of a new inmate, or else he’ll surely have to call for Sigewinne to check on the poor guard.

“And your last name, madame?”

“I am Brytnneigh Deirdrophnea de Troistêtesloup. Do you want me to spell it for you, dear?”

Yes, he really should stop you.

Before you can open your mouth again, you see in your peripheral vision a figure moving. Upon turning your head slightly, you are graced with the sight of your beloved husband, walking towards you with a quirked thick brow, and crossed arms. All you can do is sheepishly smile, waving at him.

“O-oh! Duke Wriothesley, Sir!” The guard behind the registration desk immediately jumps to his feet, squaring his shoulders and saluting at the arrival of his superior.

“At ease, young man,” Wriothesley nods, stepping even closer, practically invading your personal space, icy blue eyes looking at you unblinkingly. “What is going on here?”

“Nothing much, Mr Warden,” your eyes crinkle in the corners, a sight so infectious, that the man’s lips turn into a small smile. “Just a cute old me, ending up in the Fortress for Archon knows what time.”

“M-madame!” The guard exclaims rather loudly, that even your husband turns to look at him. “Even if it's not your first stay here, you shouldn’t be taking liberties with the Duke!”

“No, no, it’s alright,” Wriothesley raises his hand. “She is no longer your headache-”

“Hey!” You elbow his side to the bewilderment of the guard. In his shock he doesn’t even reach for his weapon.

“-I will personally escort this troublemaker inside. And cross out that abominable name out, would you? It’s not her name.”

“It’s not..?” Now Wriothesley really sympathizes with the guy, he looks utterly lost.

“It’s not. But,” a big scarred hand gently cups you under the chin and turns your head more properly towards the guard, “be sure to remember this adorable face very well for the next time. You’ll need that to let her in and out.”

“...out?”

“Yes, indeed. This woman is my wife.”

As the elevator doors slide close and the cabin starts moving down, you turn to Wriothesley and throw your arms around his wide frame, face burying into his chest.

“Are you proud of me for coming up with such a long and difficult name in a single thought?”

“Oh, for sure,” strong arms circle your waist and chapped lips press to the top of your head, “I bet you would be hard-to-catch if you were a criminal. But why did you decide to play such a prank on a poor man?”

“Well… I just wanted to see his face when he found out that I am the wife of the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide himself. Another reason is that there was no guard who knew my face and I doubt he would’ve believed my word. I just got creative with the way of making him summon someone else. You simply got here before anything could happen. Plus, it’s good to keep them on their toes with a job like that. Besides, I did apologize and praise him for his patience.”

At that Wriothesley just sighs and then chuckles, raising one of his hands and threading his fingers through your hair, pressing your head even closer to his chest. He is not even feeling iffy about the lost half an hour of your time together anymore. Because you gave him an opportunity to introduce you as his wife once again.

[kakusu-shipping]

🤍 for Mariocest

The Mario bros..... married.....

🤍 - Kiss at the wedding

In which Mario dreams of a future he never thought he'd have

Mario collapsed onto is back in the grass of the castle court yard, knocking the wind out of himself in the motion. Married, he thought. Marriage. The big show of devotion.

He'd put the concept far out of his mind before he really even understood it. He was never going to be the kind of guy to be legally married, because the only one he could fathom to ever love that much was his brother.

But now here he lay, in a Kingdom Far Far away from the rugged, probably valid, laws of Brooklyn, New York State, USA.

Every day Mario was reminded just how different the Mushroom Kingdom, and the entire world it existed within, was from his home. How they perceived Familial Relations wasn't as black and white, related or not, as it was back on Earth.

The way Peach had explained it, everyone is related in the Mushroom Kingdom, in the biological sense, in an unseen connection way. Families, parents and children and siblings, still existed but they were always more of a choice one makes than people one could be stuck with through blood ties. A choice that could be edited, reversed, altered as the relationship changed.

It was all a little too big of a concept for Mario, and the Princess tends to Grandify her explanations, but what it boiled down to was so very simple.

Here, in the Mushroom Kingdom, brothers, sisters, cousins and whoever else, are free to marry. Legal, true marriages.

Mario felt his heart rate pick up speed as it sunk in even further. Marriage. A real wedding with guests happy for them. With food and flowers and gifts and suits and- Mama mia rings.

He could propose. By Stars he could propose, a real proposal, and have it mean something. A real question with a real answer and a ceremony with vows and a big party.

Mario's hands clenched around his overall straps as he kicked his legs into the air a bit, his heart pounding in his chest as he squirmed out his excitement. He needed to calm down.

With a deep breath Mario focused on the clouds floating lazily overhead. White and fluffy and calm, oh so calm. Drifting slowly through the sky.

Mario closed his eyes, his heart rate slowing, the burning in his cheeks dimming. A cloud blocked the sun over head, cooling him down.

He wondered what Luigi would want to wear to their wedding. Mario always believed himself a Tuxedo guy. He'd wear the occasional dress, but it really wasn't his style. Luigi on the other hand...

Oh.. Luigi in a wedding dress...

Mario could see him now. Long and frilly with puffy sleeves and short gloves, standing with a thin veil and a bouquet of those beautiful rocket flowers at the end of an aisle lined with pews full of people who are so, so happy for them.

He walks down the aisle, and Mario stands tall on the staged in his white tux, and he is mesmerized by his brother's beauty, and no one else in the room seems to matter any longer.

They say their vows, they exchange rings. Mario is holding Luigi's hands so tenderly in his own, and he is crying. They're both crying, and this is really happening, and neither of them can look away or think of anything other than how happy they are to be there. Together.

"You may now kiss the bride"

Yeah.. Luigi would like the sound of bride.... Wife...

The cloud overhead moved along with the light breeze, allowing the warm sun to shine down onto Mario as he napped in Peach's court yard.

It wasn't an uncommon sight, to see the Hero of the Mushroom Kingdom asleep in the grass on warm days, so no one dared bother him.

Besides. He looked like he was having a nice dream.

[hezzabeth]

I know that a Miss Havisham costume in a playhouse should be more regency period… but that’s Whistleton’s theme. Anyway in todays part the gang head on off to Medieval Faire!

"If they had their way, they would have burned anyone with colorful hair, but that would mean losing most of their actors," Revati explained to Brigadeiro who had vaguely followed her into the cafes fridge.

“That would mean killing the entire population of my town” Bridgadeiro remarked.

“It’s not that I hate wearing dresses! Sometimes I love wearing dresses; I just hate being told what I have to wear by some stupid actors based on my reproductive organs,” Revati said to Bridgadeiro, who had vaguely followed her into the fridge.

“You would love the space station! Everyone wears whatever they want, in their assigned colors, of course,” Bridgadeiro remarked.

“I’m sorry, is there a reason why you’ve followed me in here? I need to get changed!” Revati informed him, and he had the decency to blush with embarrassment.

“Dreadfully sorry! I just wanted to let you know I’m done with the plant thing and wanted to ask if I could go home now,” Bridgadeiro asked.

“You can leave any time you like. I’m assuming you’ve figured out a way to stop yourself from freezing to death?” Revati asked as she pulled out a skirt.

“Ah, no, I had a special tent when I was rose collecting, but the chanting naked people stole it!” Bridgadeiro admitted.

Revati examined the skirt. It was one of Amma’s early creations, several burlap potato sacks that had been sewed together.

“Well, I'm not your mother; I’m sure you’ll figure things out eventually,” Revati admitted, and Bridgadeiro chuckled.

“Believe me, I know you’re not my mother; she would have called every single planetary embassy in the solar system!” Bridgadeiro replied as Revati wiggled the skirt off over her pants.

“Is it supposed to look like that?” Bridgadeiro asked doubtfully as the skirt sagged around Revati’s legs in awful shades of mustard.

“It will do,” Revati grumbled.

Dityaa and Aurora were waiting for Revati under one of the new trees. Aurora was wearing a long shapeless tunic belted at the waist. Dityaa, however, had put on a dress made entirely out of yellowing white lace and satin. The sleeves were gigantic clouds bursting from her shoulders. The bodice was cut right across the front with tiny pearl buttons. The skirt had been artfully torn in several places revealing layers of fluffy tulle. The hemline had come undone, and it was dragging in the mud. But none of it really seemed to matter. The dress made her glow.

“Is that what you’re wearing? The ragbag skirt!” Dityaa asked, sounding horrified.

“Is that what you’re wearing? That’s the Miss Havisham's wedding dress from the Dickensian theater! They will take one look at you and know you’re from a different part of the park,” Revati pointed out, equally horrified. No one performed in the actual theater, but everyone read the scripts left abandoned inside.

“It’s pretty! I want to look my best,” sniffed Dityaa.

“The character who wore it went crazy on her wedding day and then died in a fire! She also lived in the 1860s,” Revati pointed out.

“It’s fine, I took all the plastic spiders off it,” Dityaa waved casually.

“You probably should wear something better; the actors in medieval faire will assume you’re a peasant. They’ll make you dig latrines,” Aurora said to Revati.

“The dress I wore last night is filthy! I don’t have time to wash anything else,” Revati snapped back irritably as she marched to the cart.

“You could just borrow something from my collection,” Dityaa said.

“You once told me if I ever borrowed from your collection you would shave my head in my sleep,” Revati replied.

“I was thirteen! A child! Anyway, I can’t have you digging toilets; imagine the embarrassment,” Dityaa said, and then her eyes widened briefly.

“He will need to put someone on as well; that jumpsuit will get his throat slit,” Dityaa said, and Revati glanced over her shoulder. Bridgadeiro was standing a couple of feet behind her.

“I thought I could ask the naked chanters for my tent back,” he said.

“Fine, but you’re digging your own grave,” Revati replied, and Bridgadeiro’s brow wrinkled with confusion.

“Grave?”

“You know, the hole a dead body goes in,” Aurora said helpfully.

“That’s horrifying! Back home we don’t do that, back home bodies are turned into diamonds and then launched into space,” Bridgadeiro said, and a faint smile crossed his face.

“The memorial rings floating around the space station really are dazzling.”

“Fine, let’s quickly change our clothes and head out before Amma gets back from her daily walk,” Revati snapped irritably.

Medieval faire loomed over Olde Landon. "Loomed" really was the only word to describe it. The park architects had deliberately placed it in the castle on a giant hill in the park's center. Its gigantic craggy walls cast shadows all the way to Shakespeare Lane. The giant copper dragon could be seen all the way in Whistletown. On windy days, you could smell smoke spiraling from its towers. The smoke was the only proof Revati had that the actors and tourists inside were still alive.

“So, how do we get in?” Revati asked as Bridgadeiro helped her push the cart.

“The back way is in Marzipan Martian’s confections,” Aurora said, and Revati shuddered.

“You don’t like lollies?” Bridgadeiro asked.

“I don’t like ants; Marzipan Martians is infested with them,” Revati replied, shuddering again.

“Oh, come on, ants aren’t that bad! The parks on the space station are full of them,” Bridgadeiro replied as Aurora approached the lolly shop.

“Have you ever seen a Martian ant? They’re the size of your fist!” Revati protested.

Revati remembered the lolly shop before the invasion. In the window, there was a sculpture of the lost princess made entirely out of chocolate. Jars of hard-boiled sweets and rainbow lollipops had been arranged in intricate patterns around her feet. Revati had bolted inside holding Dityaa’s hand. The air smelled of burnt sugar and cinnamon. Massive rainbow bins filled with wrapped lollies sat on groaning tables. Tourists bustled about snatching up boxes of “genuine Turkish delight”.

A lady in a uniform stood in the corner demonstrating how boiled sugar was turned into lemon sweets.

Dityaa was begging mother for a “real” chocolate princess. “And what do you want, Revati?” Her father asked her. Was that when the sirens hit? Was that when the appliances invaded? Or did it all happen when they were in the toy shop next door? The ants had long ago eaten the chocolate princess. They had also managed to knock over and break most of the jars.

“The ants are fine, just leave them alone and don’t try to steal their eggs,” Aurora assured them as she opened the shop door.

The inside of the shop was surprisingly clean and orderly. Broken jars had been swept into orderly piles. The wooden shelves and surfaces were dust-free.

Someone had turned all the abandoned mint-green gift boxes into a pyramid.

“Did you do this?” Revati asked curiously.

“No, the ants did. They’re surprisingly intelligent in a busy, orderly sort of way! I sleep back here,” Aurora said, walking behind the shop's blue and white checkout counter.

“Wait, you sleep in a shop filled with giant ants? I never knew that,” Revati confessed as Bridgadeiro tried to push the cart in while keeping the door open.

“I knew,” Dityaa sang, swinging herself over the counter.

“You never asked, and it had nothing to do with our professional working relationship,” Aurora replied with a small shrug.

Aurora slept on a bed made out of old sugar sacks with a pillow in the shape of a lollipop. There was an old shoebox next to the nest where an ant lay inside.

“That’s Queenie; she’s not dead! Just sleeping,” Aurora explained before knocking on the wall four times. The wall slid aside with a faint whoosh.

A teenage girl was standing on the other side. A girl dressed in a green velvet robe with incredibly long, messy gray hair. Her soft blue eyes fell on Aurora briefly with a small smile before noticing everyone else.

“Hark, my sweet, who be these folk and for what cause do they grace our presence?” She asked in a peculiar accent.

“What does hark and doth mean?” Bridgadeiro whispered.

“This is my boss, Mistress Revati, her sister, and some random boy,” Aurora explained, and the girl sniffed.

“Mistress Revati, this is my girlfriend Isabeau,” Aurora said with a small smile.

Isabeau slowly stepped into the room, her head held high, walking towards Dityaa.

“Pray, art thou the lady Revati? Thou appearest more tender than mine expectations did foretell! Verily, I find favor in thy gown,” she said to Dityaa.

“Thank you! I found it sitting in a pile of ash; I think the appliances vaporized the actress wearing it,” Dityaa giggled.

“I’m Mistress Revati,” Revati corrected Isabeau, who briefly glanced at her.

“Thou doth make sense, though dost bear semblance to a barbarous witch, a crone of eldritch mien," sniffed Isabeau.

“Isabeau! Please try to be nice to my boss,” Aurora flushed with embarrassment.

“Yes, play nice or this eldritch witch will hack that wall down and flood your entire castle with giant ants,” Revati snapped back.

Isabeau merely turned away from Revati before turning to her girlfriend.

“I surmise thy lady doth desire something," she said.

“We need to melt this android in your blacksmith's forge,” Revati explained, and Bridgadeiro, who was holding the cart, waved.

Isabeau walked towards the cart, examining the android. Her gentle blank expression seemed to twitch slightly, like a rock being thrown into a still pool.

“If the Luddites espy this within the castle walls, verily, they shall take thy life," she said, holding up the android's hand, examining it.

“I’m sorry, did she just say someone will kill us?” Bridgadeiro asked nervously.

“They’re not going to see it! It’s not like we’re going to put it on display in the town center,” Revati pointed out.

“Conceal this abomination and follow me hence," Isabeau said, walking back to the gap in the wall.

The gap in the wall was actually the side of a small courtyard. Sitting on a wooden table were six beehives, vibrating gently in the chilly air.

“In hushed steps, proceed, for the bees in their winter slumber rest,” Isabeau whispered, walking past the hives to an arched tunnel.

[delopsia]

Coyote | Miles Miller x Reader

Word Count: 7,500 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+. AFAB!Reader, wolf! Reader, coyote! Miles (it's a werewolf AU with a twist), mentions of food PTSD and forced marriage, running away together, car sex, and overstimulation. No established time setting, so you can imagine this as a modern! AU or canon to when the movie took place :) Brief Summary: You've got no choice but to marry the son of a rivaling family in order to bring unity once and for all. But on the night before your dreaded wedding, Miles makes good on your wish to run away together.

This bed used to be comfortable.

Falling into it once felt like plummeting through the sky and being caught by a giant, fluffy cloud. Soft, delicately scented sheets, washed in a laundry detergent exclusively used for this room alone. One of the many perks of the honeymoon suite, alongside the extra space, pink interior, and a promise of complimentary, sweet drinks, so long as you took the time to visit the front desk and ask for them. 

Your head lifts, craning to peer over your shoulder. The sleeping body that occupies your bed isn't the one that you're used to. Stiff. Not the snuggly presence that you've grown to associate with this mattress. His back has long since turned to you, growled snores rattling every last nerve you've got. And yet, you can't help but be thankful that he's not awake and looking at you. 

Because then you'd be forced to confront the reality of this situation you've found yourself in. 

Reluctant, your eyes flick to the dresser. It's usually up beneath the two-way mirror, but now, it has found itself awkwardly shoved into a vacant corner. If only the stark white wedding dress sitting on top of it had taken note and miraculously found its way into the dumpster. But like the gaudy ring sitting atop the bedside table, it hasn't moved an inch.

Come dawn, his nameless sisters will rush into the room and help shove you into it all. Dressing you in costume like one of their childhood dolls, powdering your face with extravagant makeup, and helping you into those too-high shoes that your future mother-in-law so stubbornly insisted you wear. As if walking down that aisle wasn't hard enough, to begin with. 

It's cruel, truly. 

Your feet are destined to walk a fine line between two families. To become the glue—no, the contract that will bind them together for the rest of eternity. A purpose that was placed upon your shoulders before they had even formed in the womb. Because a bunch of old men and women couldn't settle things like adults, crying about how its not the way your ancestors would have wanted it.

Werewolves. Stuck so far in the past that even modern history does not recognize them. 

Up until recent, you'd found them all to be the same. Clinging to the shiny title of their ancestors, vying to establish themselves using the accomplishments of those before them. Stubbornly clinging to their old ways, fearing the concept of change more than the fangs of a hungry vampire.

You'd thought it when you were approached with the demand that you meet the son of the family that rivaled your own. Travel from the warm comforts of one state and into a cold, unfamiliar one every weekend to meet him and to fall in love. And if you could not find love, you would need to learn tolerance. Accept this unhappy future for the sake of the family, they said. For your troubles, you were offered a reservation at a comfortable hotel. A place to rest in between the drive and enjoy the last of your freedoms before the wedding bells rang. 

Oh, but that doe-eyed boy behind the reception desk...

Miles.

In the past, you've heard your family refer to families of coyote-based shifters, but until you stumbled into this little hotel, you'd never met one in person. And even then, you couldn't pick one out of a lineup if your life depended on it. But from the moment you heard him knock on your door during your very first stay, you'd known something was different about him. 

"I-I'm sorry," he stuttered, wild blue eyes darting every which way as he held out a small, familiar object in his hand. Your wallet. "You—you forgot this on my desk."

He could have kept it. Lord knows he needed every penny in there, but he'd brought it back to you just as you'd left it. 

"Oh," quite frankly, you were speechless. Even now, you can't think of anything you could have said to fill the awkward gap of silence as you took it from his hand. "Thank you..." Your eyes frantically scanned across his jacket for that damned name tag. But it was upside down. Forcing you to tilt your head for a better read. "Miller?"

His eyebrows furrowed. Head tilted, like you had just spoken in a different language. "Huh?"

"That's your name, isn't it?" You nodded towards the nametag. 

He had to follow your gaze to figure out what you were looking at. And as soon as he realized, his hands jumped into the air. "Oh!" Scurrying to fix it. Laughing. "I'm—I'm sorry. It's...my name is Miles..." Then, paused as he was in the process of flipping it, hesitantly meeting your eye. "Miller is my last name." 

The only thing you'd known to do was to smile and correct yourself, but now the silence was unbearable. Miles and his awkward grin, wringing his hands, eyes flicking every which way. But then, all of a sudden, his head snapped toward the double doors of the lobby. He'd heard something, but you couldn't pick up a damn thing. Even as he apologized and darted off, you couldn't figure out what the hell he was hearing. 

Strangest of all, a strange scent clung to the fabric of your wallet. Earthier. Like standing in a forest after a storm. That was no wolf scent; in fact, you had never encountered it before. 

What was it? 

You got your answer when, on your second visit, he ambled back up to your door—carrying a slice of pie fresh out of the oven, still steaming and hot to the touch. The same flavor you had looked for when you first arrived at the hotel, only to find that it was the one flavor freshly sold out. Originally, it was an apology for the off-putting note he'd left you on, but then he'd accidentally let go of the plate before you fully had a hold of it. 

He'd yipped the moment the ceramic hit the ground. Then burst into an apology, claiming the noise to be some 'dumb coyote thing.'

The walk back to get another slice ended in chatter that has yet to die down. 

Maybe he bewitched you with the sweet treats and cozy blankets he brought out of the exclusive bungalows because you didn't like the texture of the ones typically used to furnish your room. Or it could have been the soft touches and delicately whispered comments as if speaking any louder would cause the sentiment to lose all of its meaning. 

But one way or another, you found your arms wrapped around those lithe shoulders. Catching each and every single one of his flurried kisses. Soft and giving, never demanding a thing, and so, so eager to give everything to you, even if that wasn't very much to start with. Stumbling backward until the back of your knees hit the bed, losing your balance in an instant. 

You haven't quit falling since.

The body next to yours shifts, rolling closer to you, and the hand that skims your back does nothing but make you wriggle to the edge of the bed. Those aren't the hands that you've grown accustomed to, appearing softly at first. Feather-light fingertips stroking up the curve of your waist, gradually gaining confidence in his touch the further he goes until he flattens his palm against your belly.

A part of you can still hear what Miles would say right now.

"Is this still okay?" His lips always brush against your bare shoulder. Always seeking the reassurance that the boundary is still where it was a couple of hours ago, perhaps due to his own wavering line of what he can and can't handle. 

The following whispered consent is religiously rewarded with a lingering kiss, his warm breath fanning out against your skin. Followed by another. And another. Guiding himself up your cheek to press one to your lips before nuzzling his nose into your neck.

They say coyotes and wolves don't mix, but you go together like lightning and thunder. Where Miles is swift and flickering, you are the booming, large presence that follows. 

Tap.

Your head lifts.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

There's nobody outside the window; there are no curtains, no scent to reveal their presence. Your eyes are designed for this very lighting, and yet, you cannot spot a single thing out of place. 

Tap. Tap. Tap.

It's not coming from the window. No, the tapping is...inside the room. 

As slow as you can physically manage, you slip from the bed, careful not to disturb your sleeping partner. The last thing you feel like dealing with is a know-it-all man stealing the reins from your more-than-capable hands. Like he did when Miles turned up at the door, returning the ring you intentionally left at his desk. He damn near shoved you out of the way, unable to allow a coyote like Miles around you, even for a second. 

Tap. Tap. 

Coming from your right. But that doesn't make any...

the mirror.

The mirror is open. 

"Miles," you can barely recall the sensation of your feet crossing the floor. Slipping into his warm arms before you can think twice, uncaring of the awkward gap you must lean over. "How did you..."

"Shh," squeezing you as close as he can possibly manage. "If he catches us..." 

You'll both be dead. 

But the continued, growling snores insist he's not waking anytime soon. 

Reluctant, you peel yourself away from him. Too eager to get a glimpse of his face. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to—I..." he pauses. Recollecting himself. Squeezing your shoulders in his palms. "Do you remember what you said about wantin' to run away with me?"

You don't...you don't know what to say. Head tilting to glance at the occupied bed. Then to your luggage. Just moments ago, you were daydreaming about Miles, but, but... God, where will you go? How will he hide you from the sensitive noses of your family?

"I—I got my car workin' again, and I found scent blockers, and," he gulps so hard that his Adam's apple bobs. Frantic eyes flicking to the bed. Then back to you. "I ain't been there in a while, but I've still got that little apartment I told you 'bout."

You know where he's going with this. And your heart is hammering against your chest. Begging you to say yes. But your head knows better. There's no way you can escape without being caught. "Miles..."

"I know I ain't got all that much. I don't...I know I can't give you the same kind of life he could, but I..." his forehead presses against yours. Big, warm hands rising to curl around your cheeks. Blocking out the rest of the world as his heart continues to pour off of his tongue. "I can promise I'll love you until you're absolutely sick of me. Like you are of that pie I keep bringin' you."

As if that wasn't enough, he leans in and seals it by leaning in and meeting your lips. The gentlest of locks, hardly enough to count as a kiss at all. It feels like the first, all over again.

And you'll be damned if it's the last. 

It takes five and a half steps to reach your suitcase. Three to slip into your shoes. One more to snatch that gaudy ring off of the bedside table. Ugly but valuable, given all of the things you've heard about it since it was shoved onto your finger. 

The wheel clangs against the wall as you lift it. Miles goes pale. You freeze. The whole world stops turning. Slow, as if moving too quickly will cause the man in bed to stir, you turn your head. 

Still asleep. 

Getting the suitcase through the mirror should have been the hard part, but in reality, it's figuring out how to get up and swing your legs through the gap without smacking your head on the top. Miles's guiding hands are the only thing that helps you pull it off, firm against your waist, holding you firm in the event you lose your balance. 

One foot leaves the worn hotel carpet.

The other lands on the solid, cement floor of the hidden corridor. 

Miles swings the mirror shut. The latches audibly slide back into place. And suddenly, it's completely and utterly silent. Mere feet away from a man you've already forgotten the name of. Maybe you would remember if your attention wasn't wrapped up in the sight of Miles himself. Soft and real and dressed in that cozy mustard yellow cardigan. 

He looks at you.

You look at him.

For a split second, telepathy is real. And you're both thinking the same damn thing. 

"Oh, what the heck," he breathes, arms already beginning to open up, "c'mere."

It's the easiest thing you've done in your life. Stepping forward, shrinking that gap between your bodies in an instant. Arms draping across those lithe shoulders, noses crashing together as he clumsily kisses you. Careful arms curling around your waist.

Oh, it's everything you were just dreaming about. The dizzying sensation of him using his weight to push your back up against the chilly cement wall. Such a sharp contrast to the warmth radiating off of him, daring to press up against you. 

You're melting like ice cream in the sweltering summer sun. Fingers lazily tangling in his hair, falling into the plush caress of his lips against yours. He tastes like the cola he keeps hidden behind the bar, so sweet that you reckon he's giving you a secondhand sugar rush, chasing away the remnants of sleep that still cling to your psyche.

The tips of his fingers brush at your nape, crawling to trace against your cheek, then down your shoulder. Can never seem to keep those big, weathered hands occupied for more than a few seconds at a time. Always has to be moving. Always. 

You need to get going. Run before anyone notices your absence and comes looking. Can't even begin to imagine the things they would say if they walked in on you like this. Running away on the night before your wedding, tangled up with your new lover before a minute has even passed.

"Miles..." speaking against his lips. A half-assed effort that dies down as soon as he closes that gap again. Leading with his nose, the cold tip of it brushing against your cheek. 

"We should stop..." he whines into your kiss like he's been longing for it all his life. On the same damn page as you, just as helpless, too. "We should..." 

His hips twitch forward. Clumsily knocking into yours. The slightest brush of your bodies, and yet it's enough for you to catch onto what you've done to him. Hard as a rock in those stretchy work pants, so damn visible that you can see the bulge of his cock, right here in the dark. 

Bold, you push forward. Foreheads bumping together as Miles struggles to back track, feet tangling, falling back against the wall with a surprised grunt. Wide eyes peer back at you, confused, but only for a moment. His unspoken question is answered by the sudden pressure of your palm, curling around the outline of him through his slacks. 

Those pretty eyes fall shut, sucking in a breath. "Wha—here?"  Though he's not putting up much of an argument against it. Struggling to suppress the whine that rolls past his lips, hips twitching up into you. So, so sensitive, no matter how many times you've done this to him.

"Do you want me to stop?" You're almost certain what his answer will be, thumb already toying with the metal of his button. 

But his silence still has you waiting. 

His head drops, forehead landing against your shoulder, almost ashamed to whisper, "...no." 

The drag of his zipper is enough to make the button pop loose, so cheaply made that it was barely fastened in the first place. Your daring fingers slip inside, seeking the soft material of his boxers...that you don't find. 

No, instead, your fingertips brush against warm skin, not another layer of clothing there to separate you from his heavy cock. And despite your surprise, your hand is already wrapping around him. 

"Had a customer while I was gettin' dressed," Miles blurts, suddenly talkative as you give him a loose, experimental stroke, figuring out which angle is most comfortable for your arm, "I didn't have time—oh," your thump swipes over his weeping tip, always so wet for you, "and then, and then you walked in the door and I..."

"Forgot?" Filling in the blanks. Hardly able to pay attention to what he's saying. Too busy paying attention to the weight of him in your grasp, how his cute hips rock back and forth on their own, subtle accord. You shouldn't get this much pleasure out of stroking him, spreading his precum down his shaft. 

His head nods against your shoulder, hair tickling your neck. "Uhuh."

Your eyes flick to the mirror, peering through the darkness of the hotel room you were in just minutes ago. Not a soul has noticed your absence yet. But even if they had, you don't think you'd be able to care. Too wrapped up in the soft whimpers that fall off Miles's tongue, the way they grow louder when your spare hand twists in his hair, pulling gently. 

His head lifts, and your mouths crash together with all the grace of a trainwreck. Teeth clattering. Tongues meeting without a shred of notice. Messily tangling in the chilly air. Punctuated by Miles's sharp inhale. 

Outside, a truck engine roars to life. 

"Car," Miles chokes, "we gotta..." 

It's the biggest power struggle of the century, his lithe body rolling against yours, too eager to feel you and have you and eat you alive, all at the same time. The sly twist of your wrist does absolutely nothing to help his case, eyes scrunching shut at the feeling. He's only got control of his hand, darting into his pocket. Returns with a thin plastic tube that you smell before you see. 

Roll-on scent blocker. The nastiest combination of chemicals you've ever encountered, but they do their job as promised. Warm against your temple as he rubs it on you, covering your scent glands, one at a time. The ones on your neck, behind your ears, and the insides of each of your wrists, that horrid, sterile stench assaulting your nose like a bad memory. An unpleasant experience drawn out by the way you continue to torment your lover, thumb massaging beneath his sensitive tip all the while

But it's on, and Miles is damn dragging himself away, shoving himself back into the confines of his pants before he can even begin to second-guess his decision. Lips so wet that they shine, catching in the fraction of light provided in this dark little corridor as he bends down to grab the handle of your suitcase.

"Car," he repeats as if he's trying to convince himself more than you.

His spare hand reaches out, an open invitation that you're already halfway into taking. Fingers locking around each other, tightening as he guides you down this maze of a hallway. Past room after room, around two sharp bends, toward a dull, hardly helpful light. You're pretty sure he borrowed that bulb from one of the bungalows after management defaulted on their usual payment for supplies. 

You wonder if this is the last time you'll ever see this hotel. 

The somewhat offputting taxidermy behind the reception desk. Clashing with the refined purples and blues of this section of the building. Dusty gambling machines and tables that haven't seen a game since last winter are now only useful for storing cleaning products and a stash of towels. 

All so dead compared to the vivid gold, orange, and brown across the room. Warm lighting and the equally cozy booths snuggled into the lower floor. Far too pretty to be surrounded by a floor tile that aims to recreate an enchanting stone pathway, and has instead become a heaven to dirt and trash that no mop or vacuum can fully collect. 

It's all there and gone in a second, cut short by the squeal of the front doors, opening up to a big, rainy world, all yours to explore. The parking lot is so flooded that it's become one big puddle, splashing as you run through it, licking at your exposed ankles. You can hardly tell where you're going, blindly led by the hand that has yet to let go of yours. 

The car is parked all by its lonesome in the center of the lot, away from the other residents and directly across from the vehicle you were driven here in. Only when you're close does Miles let go of you, treading toward the back of the vehicle while you reach for the car door. You've never been so thankful to find that something is unlocked, damn near falling into the backseat.

Miles is on you before you even hear the trunk close. Hips slotting between your thighs as he squirms on top of you, giggling as he trails kisses up the side of your neck. Leading himself over your jaw and across your cheek, moving so quickly that it almost tickles. Only pausing to linger when he meets your mouth, humming like the cat who got the cream. 

"Whole darn weddin' party is parked out here," he grunts, unabashedly rolling himself against your thigh, "almost feel bad for stealin' you away."

"Don't," sucking in a breath, tugging at that damned cardigan of his, "the wedding was more for them than it was for me."

He leans back on his haunches, tugging the flimsy material from his shoulders. Tosses it somewhere up in the front seat. "Promise I won't make ya feel like that if we ever get to have one."

Your head is spinning, struggling for an ounce of sanity in this cramped little car as you reach to push your shorts down your legs. "Do you want me to go back for the dress so you can marry me before the sun is up?" Half joking. 

You fear you'd do it if he asked. 

But his head just shakes, already beginning to fumble with the buttons of his work shirt. "Nah,"  two snap off entirely, scattering into the leather seat. By the time you realize he's got it off, he's already halfway into peeling that final layer over his head. He's on you before the old tee has even landed on the floorboard. Returning to his favorite place between your legs. "You were right when you said that the dress doesn't suit ya at all."

It's hard to lift your hand to your heart and feign shock when his chest is pressed up against your own, careful lips pressing kisses to the underside of your jaw. Hell, working up a tone of mock surprise is even a task. "You were watching me change?"

"You," kiss, "were facing the mirror," another kiss, "lookin' right back at me the whole time." One more, right on your lips. Too innocent for what goes on down below, the heavy bulge of his cock rubbing against you.

On their own accord, your legs are circling him, pulling those lithe hips even closer; he's got the idea, already beginning to grind into you in earnest. Makes it so, so hard for you to focus on your half-assed attempt at defending yourself. "I was trying to see what I looked like!" 

"Do you always mouth my name when you undress?" His words come out breathy, like the very memory is enough to get under his skin. "Had half the mind to open the mirror right then 'n there."

You can't even begin to imagine what kind of hell would unravel if he'd done that. Haven't a doubt in your mind that you would have been on him in a second, much like you are right now. Frenzied hands smoothing past his biceps, scurrying up to slide across his back. Silky smooth beneath your palms, interrupted by a raised scar that sits next to the knobs of his spine, with a story you'd rather not recall. 

All too quickly, it's fallen quiet in this little car. Nothing but the soft pitter-patter of rain against the roof, set alight by the distinct red glow of the grand, neon sign hanging overhead. As if anyone could possibly forget they were staying at the El Royale. So damn bright that it reflects off Miles's pale skin, glistening as he kisses down your neck, soft mouth so feather-light that it tickles in the best of ways.

He jerks backward. Face twisting like he's eaten something sour. Barely manages to keep his eyes open. 

"Get a taste of that scent blocker?" You giggle, already halfway into reaching up, curling your palm around his cheek. Now, it's your hand that is bathed in the warm, red glow. 

"Uhuh," and he's already responding to the faint nudge of your fingertips, eyelashes fluttering closed as he meets you halfway.

And despite it all, it's as gentle as it has always been. The sort of thing that melts you around the edges, with the slow guide of his lips, massaging against yours in an elegant dance that no soul can recreate. Head spinning like a tiny ballerina in a music box, moving to a melody that only you two can hear.

But then your delicate tongue is swiping against his lower lip, and he's parting with a dizzying gasp. Downright placid as you lick into his mouth, so shy he can hardly rise to greet you, darting away the moment you meet. But then he's back again, lazily tangling with you, fleeting meetings and contented hums, bodies pressing impossibly closer. His hips involuntarily twitch up into yours, the outline of his cock rubbing against your cunt, and the two thin layers between you do nothing to stop you from feeling how he spasms in his slacks. 

Your touches are wandering. Skating down his neck and across his chest, svelte and gently muscled, like you're running your palms across a marble statue. Dancing over the slight dent of a scar on his belly, the one he's only recently felt comfortable having touched, past the divots of his ribs and down his sensitive sides. 

He's everything, and he doesn't even know it.

"Miles..." gasping into his mouth, breathless. 

His head tilts. You can almost see those large, pointed ears twisting on the sides of his head. Always curious. "Hm?"

Hell. You don't even know what you were saying his name for. Wordless, your hand continues to wander between your bodies and across the hem of his pants, cupping him through them. Rewards you with a groan far too loud for this tranquil backseat. 

Overhead, thunder rolls as if Mother Nature herself has risen from her slumber to remind you of where you are. How easily you can get caught if someone notices your absence and walks out into the parking lot. One little peak into the windows is all it would take. 

You don't have the luxury of taking your time. Not tonight, at least.

So you do the only thing you can think of. You hitch your thumbs into the waistband of your underwear and tug. With Miles between your legs, you're forced to draw your knees to your chest to fully draw them down, forcing him to lean back. He's already batting your hands away, pulling the thin material past your heels and dropping them on top of his own clothes. 

It happens so quickly compared to how slowly things were progressing just moments before. Your curious fingers pulling at his zipper for the second time today, too eager to see him spill out of his slacks once more, pink tip flushed so red that it rivals the neon glow cast upon you. Not necessarily big in size, but thick enough for it to be noticeable.

Ugh, you hadn't realized how wet you were until now, cunt leaving him glistening from dragging between your folds alone. 

"Fuck," you whisper over an airy breath, struggling to keep your eyes open, "I missed this." 

The corner of Miles's lip rises, eyelashes fluttering like tiny butterflies, bashfully smug in a fashion that only he can pull off. His mouth moves, but not a word comes out, too focused on watching his cock head drag against your clit to produce more than a hum. Those narrow hips have already found the pace you didn't realize you were craving; he always has been a quick learner. 

It's mesmerizing to watch the plush tip gliding in and out of your view, leaking a bead of precum that gets lost in your wetness. And you can't help but reach down and run your fingers overtop of him, feeling over the myriad of bulging veins. 

Without warning, his body twitches backward a smidgen too far, unintentionally sliding down to nudge against your entrance. Delicious pressure blooms, and you fear you're too far gone to put it off any longer. Eager hands rise to curl around his biceps, squeezing lightly as his head slips inside.

"I..." those eyes of his are focused where your bodies meet, helpless to stop himself as he sinks into your pussy, "condom...forgot..." 

A part of you should be worried about it. There's no way that you'll be able to go inside and clean up, and lord only knows how long it'll take to get to his apartment. Yet your eager legs are wrapping around him before he can think twice about it, drawing him deeper. 

"That's okay," you pant, don't particularly mind the idea of feeling him spasm and fill you up again. It's been so long that you can't remember the last time it happened. 

Six weeks without him was far too long. This is what you've been missing. The heavy drag of him inside you, curved in such a way that he rubs into the nerves hidden there, kissing them on his way past. A dull ache grows as he stretches you open, so damn thick that you ought to win an award for taking him to the base. 

Miles wavers, forearms shivering as he fights to keep himself upright. A weak leaf shaking in the wind, breaking the moment you pull him in, collapsing into you with a loud, echoing whimper. He's already bottoming out, the soft material of his pants flush against your ass. There goes every bit of rationality you have left. 

"You can move," you're speaking clearly. At least, you think you are, but your favorite coyote doesn't seem to hear you. Soft nose bumping into the side of your neck, a little too comfortable there. "Miles."  Nothing.

Your hand slips down to smack his ass. 

He grunts. Jolting into you. Whether or not he heard what you said is anyone's guess, but he's starting to move. Peeling his soft, warm body backward, cock withdrawing. For a moment, you can breathe. Blessed with a moment of sanity before he sinks back in, gingerly nudging the air from your lungs.

"Is that..." his warm cheek brushes against yours. Always has to be so close, "Is that okay?" The swell of his ass pushes into your hand; you can't help but grab a handful of it.

"More than okay," it's difficult to recognize this tone of your voice, so airy that it might as well have been whispered by the wind. 

You don't understand how something simple can feel so good. The gentle roll of his hips are so fluid that his thrusts almost feel smooth. No harsh smack of skin on skin or jostling meetings of your bodies, the curve of his cock rubbing into every nerve it can find. Has your cunt so wet around him that you can hear it. Sickening squelches too damn out of place for such delicate movements. 

Lips ghost across the side of your jaw, peppered by the faint whimpers that slip from Miles's throat, fussy in that stereotypical coyote fashion. It does nothing to change what you're feeling, yet you're pulsing around him, set off by those sweet little noises. 

"You look so beautiful underneath me," he mewls against the corner of your lips, half-lidded eyes gazing down at you with a familiar glimmer. Only he can look at you like that. Not anyone you've ever crossed paths with. And certainly not the man you were meant to marry come sunrise. 

Your legs are squeezing tighter around him, drawing his warm frame impossibly close, as if he could slip away from you at any given moment. Best of all, he lets you. Situating his forearms to rest on either side of your head, chests snug against each other, leaning up just enough to keep looking into your eyes. One of those big hands curls around your cheek, cradling it like glass. 

His angle shifts, driving up into those little nerves so hard that your legs twitch, body jerking on its own accord. Must be a mutual thing because it has you gasping against each other's lips, quiet whines dancing through the dark car and out into the parking lot, washed away by the pouring rain. 

"I can't get enough of you," Miles croaks, a little waver in his tone. All of a sudden, his eyes squeeze shut. Brows knitting together with a pained noise. 

"Miles?" The haze is dissipating, your careful hands rising to cradle his head.  "Are you okay?" 

For a moment, he doesn't move.  

"Uhuh," shallowly nodding, like that little motion even manages to hurt him, "I pulled a muscle in my back the other day, 's all." But then his body twitches forward, driving his cock back into you, and his face twists again.

You're only got one solution on deck.

Despite the overwhelming sense of emptiness you're left with when Miles pulls out of you, sitting up is easy. He doesn't need any help falling into the seat, legs a smidgen too long to sit back here, his knees digging into the backside of the passenger seat. And you're fortunate that the ceiling in this car is rather high because sitting on his lap puts you up much higher than you expected.

His hand disappears between your thighs, carefully taking hold of himself and guiding the tip back to nudge at your cunt. Ugh, it's perfect. The aching stretch of taking him once more, how he manages to still find those niche little spots that toys always seem to miss. So good that your jaw is slack before you've even taken all of him.

"Better?" You're already breathless, arms lazily coming to rest around his shoulders. 

He's not doing much better than you are, head leaned back against the cushion, peering back at you with such an unfocused gaze that you reckon he might be on another planet. "Uhuh." But his hands rise to squeeze the sides of your hips, hanging on as you rise up.

You're gonna be in so much trouble if one of your wedding guests walks outside and catches a glimpse of your silhouette rising and falling. Never in their wildest dreams would they suspect that you're getting fucked by the coyote from the front desk. Your dripping pussy clenching around him like a vice, so wet that he almost slips out of you entirely.

"Fuck," hissing, your nails biting into the back of his pale neck, "Miles."

You were trying to go slow, but you can hardly control your own body, rhythm dissolving before you can even get it established—short, jerky movements, so frenzied that you can feel the vehicle sway with it. Mouths clash. Teeth knocking together. Miles and his pitchy whimpers damn near eat you alive. 

"This is so bad," he's panting like a dog, cheeks flushed so red that you can see it through the neon glow. "So bad..."

Beneath you, his hips jerk upward, meeting you halfway. By the sound of it, he surprises both of you, crying out so sharply that you reckon the whole damn hotel heard it. You can't even find it in yourself to worry about getting caught. Not when he's twitching inside of you, hitting right where you crave him most.

 "Feels good, feels good, oh my god," tears welling up in his eyes, already threatening to creep past his waterline, "fuck."  Whimpering in the pitchiest little tone you've ever heard out of him. 

He's so perfect. You think you could die happy right here and now.

It's so distracting that you don't realize what he's doing until his rough thumb is bumping against your clit. His pressure wavers, light as a feather one moment and then directly rubbing into it the next, struggling to keep up with your frenzied pace. But it's...it's...

"Miles, keep—" begging like your life depends on it. Punctuated by the lewd slap of skin on skin. "Keep doing that."

Those tears spill over his cheeks, a hiccup bubbling out of him, unraveling right in front of you. His legs squirm behind you, knees knocking together, can't stay still to save his life. 

"Oh god, oh god," he's babbling. Head lolling back and forth like it's too heavy for him to keep up, yet his watery eyes remain on you, never once glancing away.

It's so much. You don't—you don't know how you're keeping it together. An ache blooming in the muscle of your thighs, knees digging uncomfortably into the crook of the seat. You're certain it'll leave a visible mark on them, but you can't stop. Hopelessly chasing the kiss of his cock head against your nerves and the drag of his length inside of you.  

"I'm gonna...I'm gonna..." you know what he's trying to say; you're feeling it too. He stiffens, fighting to speak. "Baby, I'm gonna cum in you if you don't stop—"

"Cum in me, Miles," cutting him off entirely. Too damn impatient to keep quiet. Not when you can already feel a burning coil in your lower belly, winding tighter and tighter. 

Those pretty blue eyes roll into the back of his head without further warning. Back arching, hips lifting off the seat, lips parted with a silent cry. The thumb on your clit spasms in tune with his cock, pulsing deep inside, flooding your pussy with his cum. 

But you're not there yet. Trapped on a frustrating edge that you can't seem to fall over. Clenching so tight around him that you can already feel his cum spilling out and onto his pants, making a horrible mess that you don't have the means to clean. Your dominant hand drops down, knocking his out of the way, fingertips finding your clit.

All of a sudden, Miles is alive. His whole body jerks. Squirming back and forth. Whimpering.  Whining. Feet kicking at the floorboard. It's too much for him, you know it is, but this isn't his first rodeo, and he's not telling you to stop. 

"Feels too good, feels—" his hands clamp over his own mouth, one over top of the other, and even that hardly works. 

"No," pawing at his wrists with your other hand, half-hearted, but the intent is still there. "I wanna hear you." 

And he does. Arms hesitantly falling. Grabbing at the seats like he doesn't trust himself to not do it again. His head tilts back, a flurry of short, pitchy noises falling from his parted lips. Moaning like a cheap whore. Oversensitive. So damn eager to let you use him. Uncaring of who may overhear or what goes on outside this tiny car.

Heat rushes through you, skin prickling with a familiar tension. There's a tremor in your thighs that wasn't there before, cunt fluttering around him, muscles set alight. The coil in your lower belly winding tighter and tighter until you can't fucking breathe. 

"C-cum," Miles stammers through a hiccup, blinking up at you, "cum on my cock, please." 

And you do. Freezing without an ounce of warning, the car seeming to spin on its own as your orgasm finally, finally washes over you. It's as if you've been sucked out the window and up into the storm clouds above, absolutely fucking weightless as you cum around his cock. Every little twitch has him bumping into those abused spots, so exhausted that the only thing they can do is send a tingle through your thighs.

It takes you a good minute to realize why your forehead is so warm all of a sudden. 

"I think..." Miles only starts talking when you lift your face from the crook of his shoulder, leaning back to get a look at him, "I think you almost killed me." But he accepts your kiss without complaint, humming into it with a grin.

"I can take you for another round if that's what you want," teasing, just to get a reaction out of him. You don't know if you could go again, even if you wanted to.

His head shakes back and forth, tear-stained cheeks glistening in the light. "Nuh-uh," interrupted by a giggle, "doll, you wear me out anymore, 'n I'll be asleep before you're even finished with me."

Your noses unintentionally bump into each other, a little too close. Miles shakes his head once more, rubbing them together.

"You still certain you wanna run with me?" He murmurs after a moment. There's a softness in his eye that suggests he wouldn't hold it against you if you were to turn and go back into your hotel room. Accept an incompatible partner in exchange for certain financial stability and status. 

Someone who doesn't bury his head under your shirt and listen to your heartbeat when the hotel down the road sets off fireworks. Who won't wake you in the middle of the night, shivering over a dream that he never wants to describe. 

Miles doesn't have all that much to offer. You know it. He knows it. But just looking at him has made you happier than anyone else ever has, flaws and all. Lord knows he wasn't lying when he promised to love you until you couldn't stand it because he already does.

You couldn't ask for anything more.

"For you?" Whispering against his lips, a secret to be shared just between the two of you. "Always."

For eleven months, nobody knows what happened to you. 

A newspaper calls you an altar runaway but doesn't quite blame you for doing it, either. Photographs of you litter the streets of your hometown and the little city that the El Royale is considered a part of, but you're a long way from there. Settled down in an adorable apartment, working a job where no one recognizes you. 

You're beginning to think that this is what bliss feels like. Miles and his warm arms, endearing coyote quirks, and sudden bursts of energy that leave you two giggling on the couch or venturing into a diner in a faraway town, just for the hell of it. He breaks apart on some days, but his promise never loses its shimmer, undamaged, regardless of it all.

The author of that article claims she spotted you walking out of a grocery store, hand in hand with a man who smelled like a coyote, with a dainty little ring around your finger. Nobody believes her when she reports it on the front page, and that's okay because it's your own little secret.

It's no one's business where this ring came from, how Miles painstakingly saved and designed it at a jewelry shop down the road, whittled a ring box with his own two hands. Whether or not it's a wedding or a promise ring is anyone's guess; you've no plans to tell. 

"Honey," Miles whines, feet audibly padding into the room. You've hardly got the energy to lift your head. "You gotta quit leavin' your purse on the counter."

Wary, you pry one eye open. "Did you spill water on it again?"

"Might've," and you suppose that's why you can hear the fan running in the dead of winter. 

The bed dips as Miles slips under the covers, bare legs tangling with yours before he can even get settled. One of these days, it will get cold enough to convince him to wear more than just an oversized t-shirt to bed, but today isn't that day. Hell, it may never come because he's long since figured out that he can nuzzle up and steal the heat off of you instead.

 You don't need to look to know that he's beckoning you in; that fussy little whine of his tells it all. Coyotes. Talkative even when they're not using their words. Snuggle bugs, too. Miles already has his head nestled on top of yours, and you're not even finished getting situated. 

"I love you," he whispers, those three little words far too delicate to be said any louder.

"I know," giggling. He told you while you were brushing your teeth just a few minutes ago, can never seem to quit saying it. "I love you too."

This bed is comfortable, but it'll never match the warmth that his arms bring. 

[flurry-of-stars]

𝑀𝓎 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒, 𝑀𝒾𝓃𝑒 𝒜𝓁𝓁 𝑀𝒾𝓃𝑒

𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰: Dad Sigma x Fem Reader

𝓖𝓮𝓷𝓻𝓮: 18+ content ahead First time, foreplay, cunnilingus, blowjob, penetration, no protection, climax (male and female)

No Abilities AU, wedding night, fluffy romance~♡ 𝓢𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂: "You had been waiting for this moment for two years. You had always respected Sigma’s want to wait until marriage to go the whole way but now that it was almost time… You felt…nervous."

𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 9.2k

𝓐𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻'𝓼 𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮: Weeeeeee happy 100 followers, yayyyyy! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡ Sorry it took so long, life, issues, blah blah blah, BUT IT'S HERE NOW (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) Actually, the part that took the longest was actually the opening part! I spent forever looking up and researching vows and stuff ( ≧ᗜ≦) It's been a few months at this point but I'm still super grateful to everyone who's followed, reblogged or even just liked my works. You guys are awesome! ( • ᴗ - ) ✧ Also WOW, this takes the place as my longest fic so far ( ≧ᗜ≦) Hope you all enjoy! ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ 𝕽𝖊𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖘 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞 𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖉 ♡

The rich scent of freshly cut roses enveloped the air, tickling your nostrils with their elegant fragrance. The faint hint of salt from the nearby rolling sea mingles with it, creating a refreshing and invigorating combination that awakens all your senses.

A warm Spring breeze cascades the scent through the crowd gathered in cute pink and white chairs as the sun begins to dip in the horizon, as though it too would be watching the ceremony and giving its blessing to the newlyweds. The sky is a kaleidoscope of vibrant pinks and purples, matching the beautiful pastel decor to a tea, a few white clouds dotting the sky lazily as the string ensemble plays a sweet, heartwarming melody.

It tickles your heart, causing it to pound just a little faster in your chest. You can hear the rapid pulsing of it in your ears, your pale pink veil covering your face and, you hope, hiding the nerves bubbling up to be present in your eyes like an unwelcome wedding guest.

You steal a glance at your about-to-be husband, hoping you weren’t the only one who felt like you were about to throw up a swarm of butterflies. His two-toned hair is tied into a thick braid, dotted with pink and white roses- compliments of the children of his important guests of the casino.

His grey eyes that you’ve come to know and love are turned to the side, anxiously staring at one of the many buckets of flowers nearby.

You see the way his eyes dart about frequently, his lips moving as if muttering to himself. He isn't wearing a traditional suit but a light pink vest, a white dress shirt, and black dress pants. His familiar white high heels have been recreated and adorned with a matching flower pattern to go with the white frilled coat he has on. The ruffles of his coat are patterned with the same flowers on both his high heels and on your elegant, light pink princess dress, trailing down from the waist to the bottom of the beautiful gown. The sleeves of his coat have also been stitched to look like flower petals, fitting with the theme well. As the string ensemble quiets down, the wedding officiant, an older gentleman who has supported both you and Sigma since you first arrived at the casino two years ago, offers a warm, excited smile to both you and Sigma.

The joy in his smile makes his eyes sparkle as he clears his throat in preparation.

You offer a quick smile, glancing at Sigma, taking quick notice of his hands wringing together and the quick, deep inhales he’s taking, his gaze never remaining in one spot for long.

With a small smile, you step the tiniest bit closer to him, capturing one of his hands with yours. He flinches in surprise, swiftly looking down at you.

His breath hitches in his throat as he gazes down at you, the sight of you in that stunningly crafted princess dress, your pink veil hiding the soft blush growing on your cheeks but not the reassuring, comforting smile on your face. The word heavenly comes to his mind but simply doesn't do you justice.

But Sigma is astute; he sees the nerves shining through your gorgeous eyes, brought to life by the artistic light of the setting sun.

Even though you’re anxious, you’re still offering him comfort.

A silent chuckle escapes him as he squeezes your hand. That familiar bloom of warmth, accompanied by the sensation of someone pounding against his chest with a mallet from the inside was so powerful, he thought the gathered guests would be able to hear it.

“Thank you all for being here today,” your eyes turn to the officiant as he addresses the crowd, your other hand beginning to fiddle with your bouquet as you listen with a soft smile. “I’m convinced that the foundations of a successful marriage begin years before the wedding day is even on the horizon.”

“Nothing has brought me greater pleasure than watching the lovely couple before you grow over the years. I could see the sparks of their relationship from the moment this young lady arrived to help clear our manager’s name.”

You feel warmth rising to your cheeks, a soft giggle escaping you, your hand continuing to gently wring the bouquet. Your now shy smile grows as Sigma looks away, a timid smile tugging onto his lips once more.

After a heartbeat, his lips quirk into a wider smile that radiates with warmth and gratitude. His eyes close for a moment. Were it not for you, he wouldn’t be a free man right now.

The officiant continues, his dark brown eyes falling on you. There’s overflowing gratitude in his eyes as he addresses you personally, “Now, I know both the employees and the guests of the Sky Casino have already personally thanked you multiple times over these past two years.”

“But I just want to take a moment to truly thank you. Sigma is like a son to me–” You suppress a giggle as you notice Sigma’s eyes snap open, his gaze darting away quickly, his brows furrowing slightly as the officiant keeps speaking.

“--So I will always be forever grateful to you for saving him from a life behind bars. And for making him happier than I’ve ever seen him before.”

His eyes turned to Sigma, who slowly meets his gaze. He squirms, resembling a son bashfully introducing his first crush to his father.

There’s an almost fatherly look on the older man’s face as he nods towards you, “I have no doubt that you will, but please make sure to take good care of her, Sigma. You won’t find another girl like her.”

Sigma gives a sheepish smile, his grey eyes flickering towards you, his brows furrowing deeper as you offer a sweet, though bashful, smile. The officiant continues, “Why this foundation is so important is because a marriage will continue to build and adapt for the rest of your lives together.”

"This wedding isn't just a big, fancy party to show us that you love each other. It's a commitment to love each other now and forever, despite any challenges life may bring, and no matter how you both change in the years to come."

“It’s going to be hard work,” he continues, offering you both a playful smile, “But I’m sure after all you’ve been through together, marriage will be a walk in the park. It’ll feel more like a break to you both, won’t it?” You giggle quietly, your ears twitching as you hear a huff escape Sigma. Turning your gaze towards him, you see the warmth in his smile, his brows relaxing slightly. Your own smile grows as the officiant continues. “You both must feel anxious right now- I’m looking at you, Sigma.” The crowd chuckles while Sigma huffs, his face turning as pink as the delicate roses in his braid.

You can’t suppress a giggle as he continues, “But this shouldn’t be too scary for you both. After all, I think you both know this was meant to be.” “I’m sure I speak for everyone here when I say we have no doubt you two are going to have a long and successful marriage. So with all that being said, I’m going to ask you both some questions so you can prove your commitment to each other.” He clears his throat. Your eyes wander, meeting Sigma’s gaze. His eyes look like pools of silver, ripples of nervousness trembling within the sea of warmth and devotion. You gaze into his soul as the questions begin. “Do you choose to be each other’s partners in life? Do you choose to respect and trust one another, to support each other, through good times and bad? Do you love what you know about one another today and trust what you do not yet know?” You take a shaky breath, exhaling all your doubts and anxieties as you look up at Sigma. His smile, once filled with anxiety, now radiates warmth and love as you speak together, saying, “We do.” The officiant’s lips turn up into a joyous smile as he nods, taking a step back, “Wonderful. Then I believe it’s time for your vows.”

He nods towards Sigma first, who flinches a little. He lets go of your hand, reaching into his coat a little hastily, patting around for a few moments. Then, he pulls out a folded piece of paper, unfolding it with shaking hands as he clears his throat. Your lips tug up, offering him an affectionate, reassuring smile, encouraging him to take his time. You watch his grey eyes almost frantically flicker between you and his vows. “I…ah…” He shakes his head, inhaling sharply. His voice steadies; the next words out of his mouth make you stand up a little bit straighter. “Cara mia.” At last, those moon-colored eyes meet yours. The bashfully loving smile that tugs itself onto his face makes your heart flutter, a familiar flame burning in your cheeks.

The moment he gazes into your adoringly beautiful eyes, his voice trembles again, the tremor in his hands growing. “I…I never thought this day would come,” he begins slowly, his voice soft, “True love was something I thought only existed in storybooks. Or was something that only those who were lucky enough to win the lottery of life would get to experience.”

You suppress a laugh as his cheeks flush to match the roses surrounding you both. The sound of ocean waves crashing against the rocks fills your ears as he continues. “I never went looking for ‘the one’ because of that,” he continues, his voice finally becoming steady. “Instead…my heart ached for a place to call home. A place where I felt like I could truly belong, surrounded by the people I cherish and care about. At first, that was the casino. I believed it would always be where my heart called home.” “That was until the day you walked into my life,” His smile grows, his gaze unwavering as he stares into your eyes.

A shiver runs down your spine as a rush of affection floods through you, creeping upwards and pooling in your heart and cheeks. His smile grows more tender as he reaches out, slender fingers caressing your warm skin.

When he whispers to you next, his voice is smooth and sweet like honey. It engulfs you in a warm, pleasant sweetness that finds its way into your ears, creeping down towards your chest, causing your chest to come alive like the fluttering wings of a butterfly.

“My cara mia. Being beside you makes me feel like I’ve finally found my way back home. You’ve made me understand that sometimes, a home isn’t a physical place. It’s not always a building or a location…that sometimes, home is a person.”

You shiver as his fingertips gently caress your cheek. You feel your lips tugging higher, your smile growing as your vision begins to grow a little blurry.

“I promise to love you for who you are, today, tomorrow and forever. Even during dark times, I will cherish you with my entire heart, protect you with every fiber of my being.”

His hand gently rests against the side of your face as you smile up at him, your heart fluttering and skipping in your chest.

“You are the person I want to spend forever with. I love you, more than words could ever truly express. You are my sun; I begin and end my day with you and I never want it to be any other way.”

You feel hot tears welling up in your eyes. You swallow roughly trying to keep your emotions in check. Your free hand moves up, intertwining your hand with his.

For a moment, you swear you can feel the love he has for you radiating from the very tips of his fingers. Your fingers lace together, slotting in perfectly between the spaces between his fingers. A silent promise of your unity and devotion.

The world around you fades, leaving the both of you engulfed in a small bubble of affection, your focus entirely on your about-to-be husband.

As you gaze into the depths of his eyes, now trembling and shimmering with unshed tears of his own, you feel a deep sense of peace finding home in the deepest depths of your soul.

Every word he speaks strikes the cords of your heart, eliciting the melody of your soul from within. A spark ignites within your heart that dances cheerily and merrily within the confines of your chest. In this moment, illuminated by the soft glow of the setting sun and the delicate aroma of roses, you come to realize that you have found your home in him as well. His presence is a balm to your own restless spirit. A beacon guiding you through life’s tumultuous waters. Your voice shakes with emotion, your vows already memorized from many wakeless nights of staying up rehearsing them.

But in this moment, they spill from your lips with a newfound sincerity and depth you couldn’t accomplish just rehearsing them in the mirror, “My love.” Your voice is barely a whisper. Yet that whisper is filled with unwavering conviction, “You are my rock. My shelter in the storm. My guiding light through the darkest of nights.”

Your hand tenderly squeezes his as you watch his smile curl upwards, reaching his eyes without a shred of anxiety remaining. “Even when we first met, you made me feel seen. Heard and eventually, loved in a way I never thought possible. You’ve awakened a part of me that lay dormant, waiting patiently for the right person to breathe life into it.”

A surge of emotions fills your entire body, making you tingle down to the very tips of your toes. Gratitude swells in your heart for the man who stands before you with tears sparkling in his eyes. He’s ready to embark on this journey of eternity together with you. “I love you Sigma,” you whisper in a voice overwhelmed with love.

“If I could weave my devotion for you into the stars so you could see it every night before bed, I would in a heartbeat. I would make the night sky shine for you with my love. I promise that I will always love you, today, tomorrow and forever. For all eternity…” The words spoken between you both resonate in the air, wrapping around the two of you like an invisible thread, intertwining, binding your souls together as one. You can sense the weight of each promise made, each vow made, setting into the very foundation of your hearts.

In this moment of vulnerability, love and devotion, time seems to stand still, as if the universe itself is holding it’s breath, witnessing the powerful connection forming between you both. You feel that small bubble of intimacy fading away, leaving you both standing beneath the night sky as the stars above twinkle to life like late guests, racing to see the moment of your unity.

The sweet fragrance of roses surrounds you both once more, a gentle whisper of a breeze caressing your skin, teasing your veil almost playfully. With a smile radiating nothing but pure love, Sigma reaches up, finally pulling your veil back revealing your soft face as the tears begin to fall.

He cups your cheek with his free hand, his touch delicate. His thumb caresses your cheek, wiping away the tears as they trail down your face. As you gaze into each other’s eyes, a deep sense of understanding passes wordlessly between you, a silent agreement that transcends any need for spoken words or promises.

In this very moment, you know with unwavering certainty that your souls are intertwined in a dance as old as time itself, destined to walk through life together hand in loving hand, come what may. Six little words reach both yours and Sigma’s ears, too soft to break the spell of love you find yourself under, “You may now kiss the bride.” You can hear the roar of blood pounding in your ears when Sigma leans in closer, his grey eyes locked onto yours with a tenderness deeper than anything you have seen from him before.

Your heart flutters in your chest with anticipation, like the beating of a thousand butterfly wings, your legs feeling like they're made of jello. The world drifts away completely once more until only the two of you remain, cocooned in a moment that feels suspended in time. As his lips meet yours, a surge of emotions rushes through you like a crashing tidal wave. Love. Happiness. Gratitude. A deep sense of fulfilment and belonging. The kiss is soft, pure as the driven white snow yet filled with an intensity that strikes that spark dancing in your heart into a burning flame within, setting fire to a passion deep within your soul.

His lips melt against yours perfectly. As if this moment was always destined to happen, written a millennia ago into the stars. In this fleeting eternity of a moment, you feel the warmth of his touch and the delicate softness of his lips and realize that this is just the beginning of something beautiful. The beginning of a journey filled with laughter and tears, challenges and triumphs. But most importantly, a journey filled with an abundance of love shared between two kindred souls who have finally found their way back home to each other. The sound of applause finally breaks the spell, drawing your attention back to the beautiful world around you. Gathered friends offer their joyful congratulations, their faces alight with smiles and tears mirroring your own. As your pure kiss is broken, you gaze up at your beloved, your hearts overflowing with love and gratitude for this moment of vulnerability and intimacy, shared amongst you, your new husband and those you care the deepest about.  ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊♡₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Your arms wrap tighter around Sigma’s shoulders as he carries you carefully upstairs towards the penthouse of the luxurious hotel you would be spending your first night in as newlyweds. The smell of alcohol lingers on both of your breaths, but thankfully you were both only a little tipsy. Both of you wanted to remember this evening after all. In all honesty, you would’ve been more than fine staying in the Sky Casino. Sigma’s- and now your- bedroom was the perfect blend of comfort and pure, artistic elegance.

Sigma was the one who insisted on spending your first night as husband and wife somewhere outside of the casino. As you arrive on the top floor of the hotel, Sigma carefully lifts the keycard for the door, pressing it against the identification device. The screen lights up green and you hear the door satisfying click unlocked.

You reach out, Sigma’s hand over yours. You look up, the corners of your lips tugging up into a small grin, "Ready?" "More than ready," Sigma whispers, offering you a sweet smile in return as you open the door together. The penthouse is nothing short of magnificent. The floor-to-ceiling windows catch your eye first, offering a panoramic view of the city skyline, glowing and glittering like a thousand fireflies in the night. Grey walls and ceiling surround you, contrasting with the soft, cushy white carpet. In the entry room, a mini crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling, above a glass table, rimmed in gold.

A gift basket is carefully placed on the glass table, containing an expensive-looking champagne bottle and some other goodies. A small envelope is in front of the white wicker basket, reading ‘To the newlyweds~’  You see a small set of black stairs nearby, leading up to another room. The bedroom and bathroom most likely. Sigma walks forward, still cradling you, his precious wife in his arms as he approaches the view. He pulls you closer, inhaling softly as he looks out across the city. “Isn’t it beautiful, cara mia?” You shift in his arms as you look across the city skyline. It was impressive, sure, but– “It doesn’t compete with the views the Sky Casino has,” you fondly reply, turning your head to smile up at Sigma.

He returns it with a warm smile as he leans in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. You return it softly, savouring this delicate moment as husband and wife. A rush of warmth and contentment washes over you; this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

As Sigma’s lips rest close to yours, he murmurs against your lips, “The Sky Casino may have the more beautiful view, but I’ll make sure we make some beautiful memories while we’re here to make up for it…” A shiver runs down your spine in anticipation of what is to come, heat pooling in the depths of your stomach and cheeks as a few flustered sounds escape you.

Sigma, his cheeks returning to that same pink shade as the roses at your wedding venue, chuckles softly, though a tad timidly. He carries you towards the stairs, each step he takes making your heart beat a little faster, a mix of excitement and anxiety beginning to form in your chest.

You had been waiting for this moment for two years. You had always respected Sigma’s want to wait until marriage to go the whole way but now that it was almost time… You felt…nervous. What if, after all this time, Sigma still wasn't ready? You would understand and respect his decision, but you dreamt of starting a family with him.

More than that, you longed to demonstrate the depth of your love for him. You yearned to show him the extent of his significance in your life, not just through words but also through physical affection.

As you reach the top of the stairs, Sigma carries you into the spacious bedroom, into the luxurious space that would be your intimate sanctuary for the evening.

The soft glow of candlelight dances across the room, delicate pink rose petals are scattered across the white sheets and fluffy carpet, their scent lingering in the air. Your cheeks burn like a fire, the intimate, romantic aura of the room washing over your being instantly as Sigma walks forward, setting you down on the plush king-sized bed.

He kneels on one knee before you, his hands gently working to remove your high heels. His fingers are delicate as they trace your ankle, slowly removing each shoe and placing them at the end of the bed. Then, his hands envelop your waist as he gazes up into your bewitching eyes. Without breaking eye contact, his hand lifts to caress your cheek with a tenderness that makes your heart swell with all the warmth of the candles surrounding you.

His touch is like a gentle breeze on a Summer’s day, comforting and reassuring. You feel your worries starting to melt as if his fingertips are delicately drawing them out of your body with each caress. Your heart surges, each beat replacing your anxieties with bursts of desire and love for the man kneeling before you. The flickering candlelight casts mischievous shadows on his face, accentuating the strong lines of his jaw and the softness of his lips.

His eyes, the shade of polished silver, glimmer like precious jewels, gazing up at you with pure adoration and love. Just by looking into his eyes, you know that you’re the centre of his entire universe.

At this moment, every aspect of him seems amplified, making his appearance even more stunning and ethereal to you than ever before.

When he speaks, his voice is a whisper, barely above a breath. His voice echoes with the same intensity it did when he spoke his vows to you hours earlier, “Cara mia…oh, my cara mia…my heart has always belonged to you.”

His thumb caresses your cheekbone delicately. “From the moment I met you, I knew that you were the one I had been waiting for.”

“And now–” He holds onto your waist with a firm grip as he stands up, gently helping you to lay back on the large, plush bed. You let out a small gasp as you sink into the soft mattress. “--If you will permit me, I want to show you just how truly and completely I love you.”

His words linger in the air—a promise of unwavering devotion.

You’re drawn, captivated by the intensity of his silver gaze. The weight of all your years of shared moments together has led up to this.

He leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin, sending an intense surge of anticipation and desire through your veins. With a tenderness you’ve always known him for, his lips trace a path of featherlight kisses along your jawline, down the curve of your neck. A soundless gasp escapes you, your hands raising to lightly grasp at his arms, feeling his strength and warmth under his clothing.

The sensation of his lips against his skin makes you tremble, that flame that was once confined within your heart igniting into a blaze that envelopes your abdomen, pooling in the depths of your stomach before finding its way between your legs. Sigma’s touch is gentle, yet growing more eager as his lips explore your skin.

One of his hands moves gently, caressing one of your shoulders while his lips trail along your other collarbone, a soft moan tumbling off your lips as you hear the gentle thump of his own high heels hitting the carpet as he kicks them off. As you feel your panties grow more damp, your body arches into his careful touch, his hand moving up to touch your neck. His fingertips stop at the fluttering pulse in your neck, caressing your soft flesh with a gentle touch.

You can feel the hunger in his touch and yet he remains delicate and slow. At last, as his hand gently grasps the back of your neck, Sigma’s lips finally reconnect with yours- this time, more hungrily.

You groan, eyes slowly closing as his tongue slides against your bottom lip, his teeth gently nibbling against the plush flesh, encouraging you to part your lips for him. Your hands begin to roam upwards, gently caressing his slender shoulders and down his back, your hands aching to touch the flesh beneath his clothing.

Your hands begin to move back the way they came as Sigma’s tongue slips gently into your mouth, encouraging you to moan into his own as his tongue begins to explore your mouth. You try to unbutton his vest, your hands clumsily fumbling with the buttons as your tongue begins to wrestle with his.

You pant softly, quiet moans escaping both yours and Sigma’s lips as your fingers struggle with the buttons on his vest. But eventually, you manage to slip them free. A gasp escapes you, eyes fluttering open as you feel Sigma’s hand gently caressing your right breast over your wedding dress. His hand is delicate, curious.

His hand gropes carefully, his fingertips gently caressing it and eliciting another shudder and gasp of pleasure from you, your knees squirming and rubbing together. He pulls his lips back, panting softly in time with you. A thin line of saliva connects your mouths as your hands pause. You both go still, taking one another in.

Sigma’s cheeks are flushed a shade of scarlet, his silvery eyes full of a burning need for you, yet a desire to take things slow. “Cara mia,” the sensual way he rasps your name has your stomach doing flips. You swallow shakily, his hand trailing up to play with one of the small puff sleeves of your dress, “I think it’s time we got this dress out of the way.” You nod shakily, slipping your arms slowly free of the small sleeves, Sigma helping you out of the confines of your dress.

The silky fabric pools at your waist, exposing the matching floral embroidered lingerie you have on. The fabric is completely see-through, leaving nothing to the imagination. His breath hitches, his eyes darkening with desire as he growls huskily, “Ah, so this is what you were hiding under that gown.” His voice has a hint of a tease in it, his hands slowly moving up the curve of your waist, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “I never knew you could be so...naughty~” You shudder as his hands glide across your belly before suddenly hesitating as they reach the bottom of your bra.

That fierce hunger is still present as ever in his eyes, and yet as his fingers move closer, he cups each of your breasts carefully. His eyes never leave your face, watching your reactions as you gasp shyly. His lips quirk up slightly; it was endearing to see you like this. Normally, you were the one who couldn’t keep your hands to yourself. You were the one who wanted to experience this intimacy with Sigma for two, long years.

Yet now, here you were, a shy mess under his touch. He swallows, his mouth suddenly becoming dry as he feels his trousers tightening. He becomes acutely aware of his own madly beating heart, drumming away within his chest. You had always been as beautiful as a goddess to him, but right now, you were downright sexy.

He licks his lips as he feels his cock throbbing needily in his pants, his primal urges pleading with him to say to hell with it and take you right now. But he restrains himself. The air crackles with tension as his eyes gaze into the depths of yours, noticing the way they shimmer with desire and want under the flickering candlelight.

His hands move behind your back, his fingers fumbling with the hook for a few moments. As he works on getting your bra unclasped, he feels your hands pushing at his jacket. He takes the hint, moving his right arm back to shrug it free, before alternating with his left.

The fabric rustles as he throws it and his unbuttoned vest to the floor, leaving him in his dress shirt and pants. Unhooking your bra, he gently slides it off your body, tossing it aside, his eyes falling back to your breasts.

Before he can even consider touching your bare flesh, he feels your hands fumbling with the buttons of his dress shirt this time. A chuckle rumbles in his chest, his face warming with amusement as he whispers, “Need some help, dear?” “Why did you choose today to wear so many damn buttons?” You grumble, encouraging another amused snicker from him. His hands caress the back of yours as he begins assisting you. “I had to get you to take things slow somehow,” he teases softly, his hands handling the top buttons while you take care of the bottom ones. “Or else you would’ve thrown yourself on me like a wild animal.”

“Can you blame me?” You ask back, an amused undertone to your needy voice, “I’ve craved you for two years now. Do you know how hard it is to crave someone as hot as you?” Your admission of desire makes Sigma’s heart skip a beat, his cock throbbing a few times in his pants. He bites his tongue, holding back a groan. He leans in again, his forehead pressing against yours as he pants heavily, a deep growl escaping him, “Good god, don’t I. It’s taken all my willpower to not bend you over my desk somedays, cara mia.” A loud moan shakily escapes you, your body tingling and shuddering as you feel your panties growing damper by the second. Your hands reach up, frantically gripping at the last few buttons of his shirt when suddenly, his hand snatches up your wrists, pinning them down above your head. "Oh darling~" He whispers huskily in your ear, gently nibbling on your lobe. Your legs tingle and quiver as he continues, "It's our wedding night. We must..." He sensually licks your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine. "Take things..." His lips move to the corner of your jawline, placing soft kisses that make your heart race as he purrs sensually into your ear, "Slowly..." His lips continue to travel down your neck, leaving a trail of fiery and teasing kisses along your racing pulse. He grips your wrists tightly before pulling away to undo the remaining buttons on his shirt with one hand.

You tilt your head back, letting out a soft moan as he takes off his shirt and discards it with the rest of his clothing. As you lean forward to touch his bare chest and explore his toned muscles, his hands quickly move towards your dress still gathered around your waist.

You make a small noise of effort as you squirm and wiggle, freeing yourself from the dress as he peels away the layers of fabric. Finally, your soaked, see-through panties are exposed for him to see. More than that, his eyes finally get to soak in the sight of your pretty pussy. A low groan escapes him and this time, you see the hard bulge already straining against the fabric of his pants.

Your body trembles faintly, your palms beginning to sweat as your eyes stay glued to his hardening bulge. Sigma himself can’t seem to take his eyes away from your dampening arousal either.

His hands reach out, gently touching the soft skin of your thighs. His fingers glide up to your hips, his nails trailing down slowly and sensually, encouraging soft moans and sighs from you.

He watches every move you make. The way your chest rises and falls. Your eyes half close each time his fingertips trail close to your panties.

“You’re so soft, my love…” He whispers, a tone of admiration beneath the haze of lust. His hand wraps around your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze, encouraging a soft sound of pleasure from your lips.

His other hand reaches up, gripping your other thigh, preparing to spread your legs. But he pauses. 

His gazes flits to yours as your breath hitches, your lips slightly parted as you softly pant, that heat burning intensely within you as he asks in a sweet, tender tone, “May I?”

Your heart beats like a drum as you swallow nervously. You gaze down into his fervorous eyes, burning with need as his touch remains delicate and sweet.

Your heart aches with a mix of anxiety, lust and love.

Your mind lingers in the grips of uncertainty and anxiety, your body aching to be claimed by the man you love more than anything else in this world. Inhaling softly, you slowly nod, whispering shakily, “Yes…please…”

His face brightens with a look of reassurance, his hand gently caressing your thighs for a few moments more, his eyes glittering with a mix of relief and hunger. His gentle smile contrasts with his hungry eyes as he takes a few extra moments to soothe you.

Once he’s sure you’ve relaxed a little, he gently spreads your legs, his pulse pounding in his neck.

His fingers move slowly, deliberately as they grip the hem of your panties, drawing the damp fabric down your thighs. His breath hitches as he catches a glimpse of your glistening arousal, the sight making him feel dizzy, his brain short-circuiting for a moment.

“Cara mia,” he whispers raggedly, his mouth feeling parched as he swallows roughly. It takes every ounce of his self-control to continue slowly pulling the lacy fabric down past your knees, towards your feet.

He groans deeply in arousal, his cock throbbing almost painfully in his pants now. “Oh, love…oh, you’re absolutely breath-taking…” With your panties forgotten on the floor, Sigma’s hands tremble eagerly as they trace the soft skin of your inner thigh. His short nails rake gently down the tender skin, earning more of those beautiful sounds from your lips.

The sight of his eyes, as pale silver as the moon, full of an intense desire to ravage you, yet still tender with the desire to take care of you, is almost too much to bear.

Wetness continues to gather between your thighs as he moves in closer, creeping slowly across the bed towards you, slipping between your legs as he parts them a little more. He looks at you like he’s absolutely ravenous.

You watch his tongue slide against his lips as he begins to lower his head towards your pooling heat. Your heart pounds wildly in your ears as your hands reach down, softly touching his silky hair as his tongue rasps against you.

Your legs tremble, a gasp escaping you as you close your eyes for a second, “O-oh god–” Your sentence is cut short as his tongue rasps along the length of your wet slit, the tip of his tongue lightly rolling against your little bundle of nerves this time, causing your hips to jerk upwards.

“S-Sig!” You cry out. You whine as you feel his hands gripping your hips, gently holding you down. His breath is hot and heavy against you as he takes his time savouring you.

Your taste, your sounds…he can feel his cock pulsing again, throbbing with desire, encouraging him to groan deeply against your slit. 

Your sounds of pleasure encourage him on, his tongue moving a little faster, a little rougher now. You taste heavenly on his tongue, your sounds a beautiful symphony for his ears alone. He could stay between your thighs like this all day and he would never get sick of your taste.

He feels your hands gripping at his braided hair, your moans growing more breathless as he laps hungrily at you, groaning and moaning like you're the best meal he's ever had. You can’t help but try and rock against his tongue as he feasts upon your juices. His hands move from holding your hips down to caressing your plush thighs, squeezing them tenderly as his tongue slowly delves inside of you, licking and caressing your inner walls inbetween lapping at your wet folds. “O-oh! Oh-oh, Sigma–!” You cry out, your legs squirming slightly as that fire begins pooling in your lower abdomen.

You feel a coil of tension tightening inside of you as Sigma breathlessly moans and groans against your pussy, his tongue dipping, thrusting more eagerly as he feasts on your juices. Then, one of his hands moves towards your clit, his index and middle fingers gently teasing the area around your nub. Your body squirms, your hands gripping tightly at his hair as his index finger finally makes contact and begins to rub. All at once, you feel yourself coming undone. Pleasure ripples through your body like jolts of electricity as a needy, pleasure-filled moan escapes your lips. Your hips jerk desperately without you realizing it as you come on his face. A rough moan escapes Sigma as he hungrily rasps his tongue along your slit, slurping, greedily licking up the juices you’re spoiling him with, the taste divine on his tongue while dragging out your orgasm.

You writhe slightly, gasping and moaning under his tongue as his fingers roughly tease your clit. “A-aanh ooh f– S-Sig, Sig!!~” You beg, your writhing growing more desperate. Your head feels hazy, pleasure shooting through your body like sparks of electricity as you wiggle, “T-too much!~ Too–” You gasp in relief, laying your head back and closing your eyes for a second as he finally pulls back, panting heavily. He sits on his knees, licking his lips, wet with your arousal as he purrs in a low tone, “Sorry darling, I couldn’t resist..” “You taste so good,” he moans, your eyes opening to watch his tongue glide against his glossy lips, his chest rising and falling heavily as he moves closer to you.

His hand reaches out, tenderly cupping your cheek as he leans over you, purring in a softer, more playful tone, “Would you like a taste~?” Before you get the chance to respond, his lips hungrily capture your own. Not waiting for permission this time, his tongue darts into your mouth, a low, muffled moan escaping you as you taste yourself on his lips. His tender hand moves from your cheek to grasp the back of your neck as he deepens the kiss, his lower half slowly pressing between your spread legs, the fabric of his pants straining against his hard, pulsing cock as he needily grinds against you.

Your eyes widen slightly as you pants softly against his mouth. Placing a hand on his shoulder, you give it a gentle squeeze. He notices the gesture, pulling back instantly as he leans over you, your heavy pants for air intermingling as he whispers, “What is it, love?” Swallowing slowly, your meet his gaze for a moment before your vision trails its way down, your body shivering as you see the way his cock is straining desperately against his pants.

Saliva begins to pool in your mouth in anticipation, your hand tenderly caressing his slender shoulder. “May I..?” The color of Sigma’s cheeks change as he shifts. You guide him with your hand on his shoulder to switch places with you as he chuckles softly, “Darling, this night was suppose to be about spoiling you.” As he lays on his back, you settle yourself between his legs, your hand moving down his body and caressing his bare skin. You smile at him affectionately as he groans under your touch, “It’s your wedding night too, love. You deserve to be spoiled as well.” He shivers under the soft touch of your fingers, your hands following a familiar path down towards his belt. With a praticed elegance, you unbuckle his belt smoothly, earning a small, amused huff from him, “Show off.” You giggle as you remove it, tossing it off the bed. It clinks to the floor as you flash him a teasing look, “You’ll get better with my bra in time, don’t worry mon ange~” Sigma blinks a few times, that soft color in his cheeks darkening as you curl your fingers around his pants and underwear.

He chuckles softly, suddenly sounding a touch more shy as he teasingly replies, “Finally picked a nickname, mm cara mia?” He reaches down, his fingers threading themselves soothingly through your hair, “I like it~” You giggle softly, pride swelling in your chest for a moment as you drag the last fabric of his clothing off, your eyes widening at how eagerly his cock springs up, standing at attention. Precum is already leaking from the tip.

You tremble, realizing just how aroused he is. “You’ve never been this eager before I’ve even touched you before,” you purr, your hands sliding up his thighs softly. You feel him tremble beneath your touch, a low groan escaping him as you move towards his swollen, pulsing erection. “Can you blame me?” He huskily whispers, his silvery eyes never leaving yours, “The sight of you all wet and eager for me..” He closes his eyes, a low moan escaping him, the sound sending ripples of pleasure down your spine. “God…I’ll never get sick of that view~” You gasp lustfully, his words sending another spark of electricity straight to your core as one of your hands ventures high. Your soft fingertips slowly caress their way up his length, delicately touching him.

He moans shakily, his hips already bucking faintly. A soft giggle escapes you. “Oh so eager,” you coo seductively in a hushed tone. Your fingers continue their slow, gentle path up to the head on his cock, rubbing your thumb over the tip, smearing his precum around. Sigma pants and groans, visibly more sensitive than usual as you crawl closer. 

Lowering your head, you lazily run the tip of your tongue along the tip, Sigma’s hips bucking up desperately, “Aanh!~ L-love..” He rasps, panting softly as he looks down at you with half-lidded eyes, “Don’t tease me like this…” You giggle, continuing to gently lap at the tip of his cock, letting your warm saliva run down his length, lubricating it more. You wrap your hand around it as it throbs, gently pumping your hand up and down as you coo at him, “But you’re so much fun to tease~” Each time your tongue licks at his tip, Sigma’s groans grow heavier, his eyelids twitching as they threaten to close. He hisses a breath between his teeth as he growls in a low tone, “You’re playing a dangerous game here, darling..” A smirk tugs at your lips as you take up his challenge. You keep licking slowly away at the tip of his cock, gliding your tongue along the slit while keeping eye contact with him.

You watch as his groans slowly become moans, one of his hands reaching down to run through your hair right as your hand reaches the base of his length and begins to gentle tease his balls. “O-o-oh f-f-f–” His head rolls back, a loud, shaky moan escaping him. A wave of mischievousness washes through you. You’ve given Sigma multiple blowjobs before but he’s never looked this vulnerable before, writhing and wiggling beneath your slightest touch. You listen as the sweet melody of his moans grow louder, encouraging you on. You carefully increase the pressure of your hand as you jerk his cock upward. His hips buck shakily, craving more of your touch and tongue and you can’t help but oblige. With each lick and stroke, your movements become more deliberate, causing Sigma’ response to grow more fervent.

He groans your name, his head shaking from side to side as he lays it back, the flowers in his braid coming loose around him as a soft, strained plea escapes him between his moans, “L-love, love, love, o-oh please baby–” His fingers weave through your hair, grabbing a fistful of your hair to hold you in place as you decide to give him what he wants. It is your wedding night after all. Your hand dips back down, teasing his balls as you take the head of his cock into your mouth, sucking softly. Your tongue traces the delicate curves of his sensitive head, the taste of his salty precum causing ripples of desire the ripple through you.

He gasps, his grip tightening on your hair as he feels your warm lips wrapping around him, taking him deeper into your mouth. His body stiffens, a small, strangled groan escaping him. You can tell he’s getting close. His breathing is laboured as he gasps, “Oh yes, yes…just like that, love…” The vibrations from the small, mischievous giggles that escape you drive him wild, his hips bucking up slightly, trying to thrust his cock into your mouth. But you gently hold his thigh, your other hand still gently teasing his balls as a hoarse, shaky groan escapes him. “B-baby…baby, I-I’m gonna–” Relaxing your grip, you pull back slowly, letting his glistening cock slide free from the warm, pleasurable confines of your mouth. Sigma whines, groaning in disappointment as he twitches and throbs, desperate for release. Before you get the chance to even catch your breath, you gasp at how quickly his hands reach out, grabbing you by the waist and flipping you onto your back again, the bed sheets rustling from the action.

You pant, eyes widening as you gaze up at his hungry silver eyes. However, despite how clearly desperate Sigma is for his release, he still manages to maintain control. He pants shakily, his breathing laboured as he grabs your thighs, spreading them again. Biting your bottom lip, you watch as he moves closer, the head of his cock pointing eagerly at your glistening pussy. “Cara mia…” he whispers breathlessly. One of his hands lifts from your thigh to tenderly cup your cheek. His thumb traces your soft skin, his brows furrowing in a familiar, slightly anxious gesture as he whispers in a tone strong with desire, but brimming with love, “Are you ready?” You swallow, those familiar butterfly wings fluttering in your chest once more. You reach up, placing your hands on his shoulders. You squeeze softly as you nod up at him, excitement pumping through your veins. This was it. “Yes…I’m ready…” However, much to your surprise, Sigma doesn’t move your passionate dance along. He squeezes your thigh, his other hand moving down to caress the curve of your waist as his tone becomes a tad more bashful, “Are you sure you don’t want me to put a condom on first?” His gesture elicits a sweet smile from you as your hands slide down his shoulders and gently caress his chest. You shake your head slightly in response, leaning in to press a soft, sweet kiss against his lips. The taste of him, familiar, intoxicating, sends another excited shiver down your spine. “We don’t need that,” you purr softly against his lips. “I want to feel you...” A small gasp escapes him at your words, your fingertips tracing his warm skin as his eyes soften at your words, the burning desire in his eyes now accompanied by adoration that makes that butterfly in your chest flutter faster. With a gentle urgency, he guides you to lay back down, his touch reverent as he trails kisses along your jawline and down your neck, sucking and nibbling gently along the way.

Every brush of his lips against your sensitive skin sparks a fire in you. Sigma’s hands move with purpose, worshipping every inch of you as if committing your very essence to his memory. Then, they find hold on your hips. He moves closer to you, the tip of his cock finally touching your glistening folds. A gasp escapes you. You can hear your heartbeat throbbing in your ears as you gaze up at Sigma, arms wrapping around his neck. “Sigma,” the breathless whisper of his name tumbles from your lips as tension builds within you. 

He leans down, his forehead touching yours as he gazes deeply into your eyes. Your warm, heavy breaths intermingle as he slowly starts to push inside of you.

The sensation of his thickness filling you encourages a low, drawn out moan of lust to escape you, your legs instinctively wrapping gently around his waist. As he fully penetrates you, a low groan rumbles from deep in his chest. His hands slide up from your hips to grasp at your waist, pulling you closer. He watches your every expression, listens to every noise you make.

Once he’s sure you’re okay, he slowly begins to thrust into you. “Aaah..” A fluttering moan leaves you as he begins to move, setting a rhythm that leaves you feeling weak in the knees. Your eyes drift closed, your nails digging into the soft skin on his back, urging him to go deeper, faster.

It takes him a few seconds to understand your silent cue, but slowly, he begins picking up the pace. “C-Cara mia…oh love..” He moans breathlessly, whispering sweet words of endearment between gasps. His hand glides up from your waist to fondle your breast. You can't help but writhe and moan as he combines rough thrusts with gentle touches. The sensations overwhelm you, pleasure surging through your body at his skilled touch and the way he caresses your nipple with his thumb. Your legs lock tighter around his waist, your nails scratching down in his back, making him groan loudly in pleasure, his thrusts growing more fervent, his moans of pleasure more frequent.

Each thrust, grind and brush of his hips against your makes that fire inside you burn more brightly, pushing you towards a climax that threatens to consume you. A cry of pleasure escapes you as you arch your back, meeting his every thrust with equal intensity. His lips find yours, his kiss more fierce and hungry now, filled with the raw passion that burns through you both. The sound of skin slapping against skin, of hands grasping, squeezing and caressing and bodies moving fill the candlelit room, along with yours and Sigma’s gasps and moans, creating a symphony of pleasure made for just your ears. Sigma thrusts begin to lose their rhythm as he moves faster, more sporadic as he sinks deeper into you.

Your toes curl as his cock finds the sensitive spot inside you, your pleasure increasing suddenly, “O-oh fuck, S-Sig!!” You cry out, your legs tightening desperately around him, whimpering in a delirious tone, “Fuckfuckfuck–!!” “Oh god, cara mia…god, god you’re soooo gooddd…” Sigma breathlessly groans, his eyes tightly shut as he chases his climax.

His thrusts become more erratic as he pounds into you, desperate to reach his high. Panting heavily, his voice becomes a beg as he moans, “Come with me…oh god, god my love, come with me, please…!”

At once, you feel that fire in your lower belly overwhelming you as your climax floods through your body. You finally move your forehead from Sigma’s, throwing your head back into the soft, white plush sheet under you as you cry out in pleasure, “S-Sigma…Sigma, o-oh fuck, fuck I-I’m coming–!!”

A deep groan escapes Sigma, the sheer intensity of your orgasm taking him by surprise.

His eyes shakily open as he grunts and growls, his thrusts growing wild as he buries himself deep inside of you as he spills into you. His lips desperately find your neck again, kissing and biting gently but swiftly, his breath heavy and hot against your flushed skin.

Finally, as the last of his climax spills into you, he slumps against you, his chest heaving. His heart drums violently against his chest, beating against your own, which aggressively flutters in your chest. You lay there, panting heavily as you bask in the afterglow of your passionate dance.

Your hand shakily raises, running through his now messy braid, picking the crushed, ruined roses from it for him. He closes his eyes, nuzzling his face comfortably against the side of your neck as your fingers work their way through his hair, removing the last, twisted remains of roses from his hair.

He rolls gently onto his side, tugging you closer into his embrace, creating a cocoon of exhausted but satisfied love. Sigma’s lips keep pressing featherlight kisses against your neck, tiny gestures of love and endearment as you run your fingers through his messy braid, soft, tender whispers of love being shared with each breath you both take.

You giggle as he kisses your cheek before he pulls away enough to gaze at your face, the burning desire in his eyes now replaced with tender devotion and love.

He cups your cheek, his thumb tracing it once more, “I think this was worth the two year wait. Wouldn’t you agree, cara mia?”

You give a small nod, a tired yet loving smile playing on your lips, “More than worth it, mon ange.”

Sigma’s eyes glow with fondness as he pulls you in for one last deep, passionate kiss, your tongue meeting and dancing with his as the final embers of overwhelming desire are extinguished.

The intensity of the kiss slowly becomes gentle and sweet, your lips tenderly meeting with his as you breathe in harmony, your heart pounding against your chest as if trying to reach out to his own.

Once the kiss is broken, Sigma pulls you into his embrace, your head finding its usual resting place over his heart. His fingers comb their way through your messy locks, twirling some between his fingers as your fingers create small, comforting circles on his chest.

“I’m glad we’re finally starting this chapter of our lives,” he whispers affectionately, his chin resting on top of your head. He cradles you close, continuing to twirl your hair between his fingers as your eyes flutter closed. “It’s a little scary but I’m looking forward to what the future holds for us.”

You find solace in his arms, his voice your own personal lullaby as you feel his hand caressing your back now, his fingertips gently tracing patterns on your skin.

You hum sleepily, your arms wrapping tight around him as you whisper, “Scary, yes...but as long as we’re together, we’ll manage, just as we always have…” A soft chuckle escapes Sigma as he lets his eyes close, his lips brushing against your temple, his voice growing even softer, “No matter what waits in store for us, I promise I’ll always be by your side.” As your eyelids grow heavy and sleep beckons you, Sigma leans in close and leaves a final kiss on your cheek.

"Rest now, my darling. Tomorrow marks the first day of our new beginning together…”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

@tecchoussuperlady @hearts4heidi @lovestruckbook @wixxlemuff @twinkaesop @livelaughyo @yonseibananamilk @honeyangelsblog @soggyoreoinmilk @verminthorr @lunarmin716 @cherridove @slowlyfoulenthusiast

18+ divider and pink sparkle dividers by @/anitalenia Wedding ring divider by @/steddiecameraroll-graphics

© 𝐹𝓁𝓊𝓇𝓇𝓎𝑜𝒻𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓈-𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟦

[more-cardigan-than-woman]

Enough, Enough Now.

Summary: You're getting married! Why can't you stop crying?

Jason Todd x ExReader

2.5k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ Only. Chocking, Oral, angst, HAPPY ENDING. Dick Cameo, Kate Cameo.

Enough.

"Hey kid, how you feeling?" Kate asks as she steps into the bridal suite, "holy shit, you look good." She smiles as she takes in your wedding dress, the fancy style of your hair and the exquisite way you've done your makeup. 

"Kate, i-" you turn to her, tears already welling in your eyes.

"Oh kiddo," she rushes forward, embracing you in a tight hug, her fingers gently brushing the tears as they start to fall, "you know you don't have to do this."

"I know, I know," you start to sob into her shoulder, "I want to. It's just-"

"Jason." 

"Yeah, I feel like he's here. Like he's watching me, still."

"He's not here." She pulls you back, holding you by the shoulders, "It's only us. Dicks on his way, but Jay-"

"I feel like I'm doing the wrong thing," you confess, deflating into an armchair, "I just- is this even fair to marry him when-" 

"Look at me, kiddo." Kate says sternly, smiling down at you when your eyes meet, "This life, it's not for everyone. I think you're smart to get out. God knows I wish I had."

"I still love him."

"It'll pass."

Meanwhile on a rooftop across town.

"Figured I'd find you here." Dick smirks, his face taking up the full view of Jason's scope, "thought you weren't coming little wing."

"I'm not. I'm just here to make sure she's alright."

"Let me take a peek." Dick pushes him out of the way so he can stare down the scope, noticing how you're held in Kate's arms, "doesn't look okay to me."

"I know. She's been like it all morning."

"Go to her."

"Dick, I can't. You know I can't."

"Why not? Just tell her you love her and steal her away. Shit man, I'll help you."

"She's getting married! It's not like-"

"Like what? Like you still love her? Like you know that she loves you. It's easy."

"It's not easy. She deserves better than me Dick. Someone safe and fucking normal like Dr whatever his name is."

"I thought you'd know better than to tell a woman what she deserves."

"It doesn't matter anyway." He says with a sigh, sliding down the guard rail and pressing his face into his hands, "it's done, she's getting married Dick. Whatever I want, it doesn't matter. It's too late."

"It's not. Never is, little brother."

The Bridal Suite.

"Sorry I'm late, got caught up," Dick smiles as he walks into your room, giving Kate a quick high five, "time to tag out Katie, I got it from here."

"Good luck, she's a mess." Kate says, grabbing her coat and a glass of wine, "I'll see you in a few." She kisses your forehead, wrapping her strong arms around your head and giving it a squeeze.

"Thanks Kate," you wipe the tears away, "I'll be alright."

"Course ya will. I'm here now." Dick beams, encircling your waist and pulling you into a hug.

"Have you seen him?" You blurt out as soon as Kate exits the room.

"Yeah. I saw him."

"He's here isn't he? I can feel him."

"Aren't you marrying someone else?"

"Yeah," you sigh, "guess I am."

"Good. So tell me, is this really what you're wearing?"

"Fuck you! This dress is perfect."

"Dude, you look like a cloud."

"I do not!" 

"Kind of do. Like a big white fluffy cloud."

"Don't be a dick on my wedding day." 

"Comes with the name."

"Whatever, we should get going."

"I just need to go to the bathroom." He smirks, "don't wanna have to pee during and miss the ceremony." 

"Fine. Actually, could you help me? I was going to ask Kate, but-"

"How do we do that?"

With a lot of maneuvering and lifting and twisting of your fluffy cloud dress you finally manage to get yourself on the toilet with Dicks help. 

"We're late." You mutter looking down at your phone. Noticing that you still haven't heard from him. Not a message or a call or anything. 

"Let's go then. Wouldn't want the cloud Princess to be late."

"You're not calling me that." You glare at him.

"Of course, Miss Cloud.” he extends your elbow for you, “Now let's go get you married." 

The walk down to the large greenhouse has your hands twitching, your nails digging into the nook of Dicks arm as you approach Eli and the rest of your life. Are you making a mistake? Fuck, why does it feel like you are? Like you should be walking down to meet someone else. Someone taller, bulkier, eyes blue as the sky that's shining through the windows.

"It's all right, Cloudy. It'll be ok." Dick squeezes on your hand, "I can help you run if that's what you want."

"No. I just-" you shake the thoughts from your head, "nerves."

"No need for that, puff n fresh." 

"You're right."

"Righter than you think," he smiles as he presses a soft kiss into your hair, before pulling the veil over your face, "Open the door." He says to the attendant who's standing by, "she's ready."

The door swings open and your eyes are already downcast. You're thankful for Dicks sturdy arm leading you down the aisle. You can hear Selina, her gentle voice coming from the left, telling you how pretty you look. Dicks hand squeezes yours as you feel water starting to fill your eyes. This is wrong. That you shouldn’t be doing this. It’s a mistake. You stare up at Dick to tell him as much, but he only gives you a reassuring smile. He releases your hand to rest his on your back, "I got you." He whispers, "it's alright."

"I-"

"Just a few more steps."

You keep your eyes on Dick as you stop. Unsure you can even look Eli in the eye and tell him no. You can't.

"You're not here to marry me," Dick smiles, trying to pry your hand from around his arm, "turn around, little cloud."

You give him a nod,  turning in place to face Eli. Your eyes still downcast when you notice heavy combat boots in place of Elis signature loafers. Your eyes travel upwards, the suit pants are wider though just as black. You fixate on the strong hands that reach down for your veil, unable to look up. Are you imagining this? Is your heart going to fall onto the floor when your eyes meet his?

"I'm up here, Kitten." Jason's low voice whispers as he drapes the veil over your hair and his fingers hook under your chin, "look at me."

Hesitantly, your eyes travel up as he lifts your jaw, "Hi." Jason beams at you, "sorry I was late."

"You- we." You fling your arms around the back of his neck, your dress poofing out behind you as he holds you so tight you think you might split in two. "Grayson." You mutter into Jason's neck.

"You're not mad?" Jason asks right into your ear. 

"Did you kill him?"

"No, Dick paid him off. Which was surprisingly easy."

"Asshole." 

"Idiot. I wouldn't trade you for anything." He starts to kiss into your neck. "You wanna get married, Kitten?" He asks as he sets you on your feet, "be a shame to waste such a pretty dress."

"Yes."

"Good girl. We can sort the rest out later."

You can't stop smiling, the world seems to have gone from the wrong way up to spinning so fast in an instant. You're disappointed in Eli first of all for being so easily bought. But you can't be mad at Dick for what he did, though the uncertainty of what's going to come after this is niggling at the back of your mind. The voice is small, almost inaudible under the joy in your bones.

As the night draws to a close you say goodnight to all your guests, which with Eli's family bailing amounted to about 10 Wayne's and a few of the friends you'd made in town. 

"This our room?" Jason asks, scooping you up in his arms as you open the door, "it's nice. But you know what'd be nicer Kitten?"

"What's that?"

"Letting me unwrap my wedding gift."

"Jay I-" 

"Come here," he sits down on the edge of the bed, his arms reaching out for you, "Good girl, now turn around."

"I'm the gift." You realise as you spin and his lips land on your shoulder.

"Yes, the best gift Grayson has ever gotten me." His fingers work slowly to untie the corset back of your dress, gliding in and out his breath growing heavier with each tug on the ribbon. "Step out," he says holding the skirt wide for you, "now turn around." He scans over the tiny bodysuit, the white lace wrapping around you in all the right places. His lip is almost bleeding from how hard he's biting down on it.

"Can I undress you?"

"Yes, my beautiful wife. But I want to hear you say it."

"Please," you kneel down, your hands skating up this thighs, "my perfect," your get his belt undone with one flick and yank it form his pants, "handsome," you unbutton him, "sneaky, wonderful husband," he lifts up letting you pull his pants from you, "please can I undress you."

"Such a good wife." His hand weaves through your hair, "you want to suck my cock?"

"Mine now." You smirk up at him, licking at his head as he starts to grow in your hand.

"Yes Kitten." He thrusts up into your mouth, "all yours." His hand tightens in your hair, pushing himself further down your throat. "Fuck you're so good at that, Kitten." He moans, your pussy quivering at the sound. "Yes- yes- fuck. Just like that." 

You lick at the underside of his cock, sucking at the tip as he withdraws. Your nails biting into his thighs as you fight to breathe through your nose. Your pussy aching and pulsing with every breath he takes, every moan that leaves his lips and the shaky way he calls you Kitten.

"You need to stop." He shakes, trying to pull you from him, "be a good wife and stop." His fingers yank at your hair, drawing you back and smiling at the pout on your lips, "get on the bed." He demands, pulling his tie out and throwing his jacket and shirt to the wayside as you climb onto the bed behind him. "Fuck you're beautiful." He says, sliding his hands down your legs and hooking his fingers into the snaps on your body suit. "How will I get this off you?" His teeth connect with your thigh as his lips work to ease some of the pain.

"Lick me, please." 

"What perfect manners," his head dips between your legs, "how could I deny my wife." His teeth snag on your buttons, ripping them apart until he's finally got your pussy free and he starts to languidly lick and lap at you, "so wet Kitten. This all for me?"

"Yes, always."

"I know. Always." His hand snakes up, flicking the delicate ring on your finger, "you're mine forever now Kitten." His tongue presses into your pussy, fucking into you. His thumb presses on your clit, and you can already feel your body start to tingle. 

"Jay- fuck." You arch down into him, pressing your pussy into his face. But he pulls back, his eyes searching yours.

"Kitten." He says in a low warning tone as his fingers press at you. "Say it." You start to squirm under him, "say it wife and I'll give you what you need." He palms at his cock as his fingers press into you deeper, "you can do it."

"Daddy." You moan as his fingers fill you and he presses his lips to yours, "fuck me, please fuck me."

"Again."

"Daddy please I need you to fuck me." You beg, your nails clawing into his shoulders to try and bring him closer.

"Good girl." He wraps your legs around him, his cock slapping down onto your clit, "my pretty wife." He slaps it again before lining himself up, his fingers gripping his base.

"Fuck, Daddy." You cry as he presses into you with one thrust, "fucking burns." 

"Going to fuck you like this every night." He pants, picking up one of your knees and throwing it over his shoulder, "make up for- Uh, fuck. Make up for all the nights we've been apart."

"Too many."

"Way too many." His hand gently holds your face as he starts to fuck into you. Your boobs bouncing from the force of him, your hands gripping tight on his arms to keep you in place. "Got a lot to make up for, Kitten. Starting now," his longer fingers rub at your clit, your pussy starts to pulse as you cry out into the night. "Give it to me." He moans, he brings you higher so he can fuck down into you, "give me my cum." 

You moan into his mouth as your release floods his cock, the wet slapping sounds ringing in your ear as you start to see stars, "too much," you pant as he goes harder and faster.

"More, give me more pretty wife."

"Can't."

"Yes you can. You can take it." His hand slides from your chin around your neck, "cum again and again for me. Make me fill you up."

"Deeper," his hand releases your throat for a second, picking up your other leg and pressing his cock even further inside you. Grinding down and rearranging your guts as his tongue swirls inside your mouth.

"I love you, little wife." He moans into your mouth.

"I love you," you pant back, grinding up into him, "love you so much it hurts."

"Can feel you getting close again. Let go, tell me you love me and let go. I got you. I got you forever."

"I love you, fuck. Right there. Yes. I love you," you brain starts to fog as you're overwhelmed with Jason, with pleasure and the reassurance that he's not leaving this time. You spasm, your muscles locking into place, toes curling and your back arching as you shiver underneath him. Jason's cock pulses, throbs and releases inside you, sending another wave of pleasure over you. 

Your body goes limp, your mind dead as you attempt to catch your breath. Gently Jason lets go of your legs, his body rolling you on top of him as he pants beneath you. His fingers rubbing through your hair as you bask in the afterglow.

"Are you ok little wife?" He asks in the softest tone you've ever heard.

"Wonderful."

"Good, get some rest." 

"What happens now? Are you going to give him up?" You say, already feeling sleep pricking at your eyes.

"We'll talk about it in the morning. I think I found a compromise."

"Not going back to Gotham." You admit, wondering if maybe you should have had this discussion before, ya know impulsively getting married.

"I wouldn't ask you too. Dicks got a plan."

"Are we joining the circus?" You ask, nuzzling into his chest. His strong arms wrapping around you, holding you close.

"Oh, little wife. You joined the circus the second I laid eyes on you."

Taglist.

@lovelyrissa @megumisbabymomma @nutmeg030 @gone-batty-fics

AN: My brains kind of broken at the moment so im just going through and finishing all my WIPS

[rumbelleshowdown]

-

Question: How many unused prompts were left after the Showdown?

Answer: 170! And here they are! (Under the cut, b/c long.)

You’re not like me. 

Trust isn’t everything. 

Liberties. 

Teeth.

The light’s gone out. 

Sweet or savory. 

Worst patient. 

Flower of fate. 

Workplace romance. 

Cinderella AU. 

Wake the prince. 

Runaway bride. 

Little Gideon, shop, Weaver. 

Leather and steel. 

Magical exhaustion. 

Near-death. 

Fluffy clouds, shapes, sunlight. 

Dark, darker, darkest. 

The Book of Kells. 

The Long Room. 

Irish pub with music. 

Historical AU – Victorian. 

Sharing a dreamscape. 

Milestones. 

First kisses. 

Last time. 

Tea shop. 

Hedge maze. 

Heist gone wrong. 

Last of the teabags. 

Phone battery low. 

Is the ghost friendly? 

A bad book. 

Uglier than you are.

Talking in your sleep. 

Modern pop culture references

Soulmate au -seeing colors

Overhears talking to self

Plus size belle

Chatroom/catfishing

Matchmaker henry

Appearance glamor

Blind/deaf main character 

Talking tea pots

Dreaming of maidens and monsters. 

Whispers of desire. 

Belle kicks Zelena’s ass. 

TikTok trends. 

Twister game night. 

This isn’t your Uber. 

Adopting a new pet. 

Deck of cards. 

Aquarium, coffee, washing machine. 

Preparing for something big. 

Words on your skin. 

Enchanted Forest. 

High School Musical. 

Station 19. 

Hyperion Heights. 

Little girl named Rose. 

Storm, poison, tears, light. 

Sacrifice, True Love, healing. 

Weaver doesn’t make it. 

Nurse Belle. 

Please help my Papa. 

Please, wake up. 

Sacrifice, pain, light, laugh. 

Don’t leave me alone. 

Whiskey in a teacup. 

Night talk. 

Butler!Gold. 

The Light One!Belle. 

Let’s just pretend. 

Blood went cold.

Greenhouse, museum. 

Twirling in his arms. 

Crushed wedding. 

Flirting at a ball. 

“I forgot to shave?” 

“There is only me.” 

Forget-me-nots. 

Candyshop, Baelfire, awkward. 

Creature of darkness. 

Bird in a cage. 

Yearning for adventures.

Turn no into maybe.

I have school tomorrow. 

Some bathing suits shouldn’t…

Let’s keep this one. 

Younger and younger. 

My bag of tricks. 

Slowly yet surely. 

weaver. 

Warm and cozy. 

Library, lingerie, desk, defile. 

Ravenous, coverage, squirting. 

Moving out. 

Moving in. 

Cat sitting. 

“Well, this is awkward.” 

Red wine. 

Storybrooke’s incumbent mayor. 

Hiring Mr. Cassidy. 

Dagger, snow, fire. 

Arrows, magic, curse. 

Curse, awakening, assassin. 

Heroes.

The witching hour. 

Salt. 

Touch. 

Honeymoon. 

Cloud gazing. 

Spontaneous presents. 

Handcuffs. 

Stroking the hair. 

Soothing caress. 

Selfie. 

One last taste 

“Please don’t go.” 

Blood and tears. 

Wedding on the run. 

Werewolves, bake bread, family. 

Detective, curious, strange. 

Amnesia, photographs, scent, blankets. 

Bird in a cage. 

Secret garden. 

Fairy, mischief, music-box, mist.

Empty, street lamp, snow. 

Ball dancing, imp, tease. 

The girl is drunk. 

Golden hour. 

Lantern, fright, cloak. 

Crooked teeth. 

Magic ritual. 

Magical flower. 

White sheets, bright light. 

Lonely night. 

Stuck in my brain. 

Ski/Skateboard. 

Surfing. 

Dreadful weather. 

Strange love, trouble, ghost. 

Heaven in hiding, garden. 

Gardener. 

3 am, drive, hurricane. 

Dress made of gold. 

Dizzy, truth or dare. 

Suffocating, night, walk, breath. 

Running away. 

Ocean waves. 

Haunted house. 

Witch!Belle, magical library, Salem. 

Insane. 

Gloom. 

Goose, attack, hug. 

Strawberry shortcake, tongue, blood. 

Horrid sight, “How dear.” 

Liminal space. 

Hatred, “You saved me.” 

Poetry, smoking, naked, paintings. 

“It’s our secret, then.” 

Forest spirit. 

Jeweler!Gold. 

Misty town, secrets. 

Something to uncover. 

Mermaid/merman. 

Fall through the ice. 

Forest is my home. 

Dumb and dumber. 

You don’t know everything. 

-

[kmomof4]

Destination Dream Weddings, Driving Disasters, & Dented Derrieres: A Fic Collaboration Between @kmomof4 @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose and @jrob64

Hello everyone! We are back with Ch2!!! In today's installment, our couples explore St. Simons Island. Thank you so much for your enthusiasm and for coming along on this journey with us! We'd love to know what you think!

Rating: T

Words: 4500 of approx 21k

Todays Ch On ao3 and ff.net

Ch1 on Tumblr

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it

A wonderfully mild breeze for July and a sky streaked with peaches and pinks and fluffy white clouds greeted them their first full day on the island. The early risers made their coffee and enjoyed a few quiet moments before the rest of their party were up and moving. Mary Margaret and David cuddled together in the large swing on the front porch, perfectly happy sipping their coffee and watching the sunrise. Mary Margaret rested her head on her fiance’s solid chest, and David, with his arms wrapped around her, felt like he held the most precious treasure in the world. 

Next door, Belle also liked to be up before it was necessary to dress and start rushing around, enjoying at least one mug of coffee while she read in her pajamas tucked into a corner of the couch in the main living area. Today however, she had only been in her place for a few minutes before Will wandered into the room, looking at her hopefully and asking if she would mind him joining her.

She beamed at him, holding out her hand and beckoning him closer. His larger fingers enfolded hers easily as he drew near, and she tugged him down to the couch beside her, pulling back the corner of her fleece throw to cover his legs as well. He kissed the side of her head tenderly, giving her a hug that she snuggled into happily, and for a moment they sat in contented bliss. 

“Would you like me to read to you?” she asked.

Will grinned crookedly and nodded his eager assent. “That’d be lovely if you want. I’m happy just sittin’ here near you, but if you want to share, I’d love to hear it.” 

Once again, Belle couldn’t help thinking Will must have been meant for her after the heartache she’d suffered before. Truly, they might not look as though they made much sense on paper, or if one were to merely look at their personalities separately, but that had no bearing on how happy they actually made each other - and how wonderfully appreciated and adored Will made her feel. She had always wanted to share the written words she loved and the fascinating things she learned and cared about with someone who would enjoy them as much as she did. She thought that dating an intellectual, someone reserved and in the same field as she was would be a perfect match, but Robert had undermined her, belittled the things that caught her interest, and he’d never had time for or valued the things she attempted to share with him. Will was nothing like that; he was eager to learn, and live life to the fullest, taking everything in - just as she was. And Belle could only tingle with joy and gratitude at picturing so many more mornings like this before them in the future.

They were able to get a more leisurely start this morning, having a trolley tour of the historical sites and points of interest around St. Simons Island scheduled at 11:00. And while she savored Will’s hands gently brushing up and down her arms and the way he leaned forward to rest his chin on her shoulder as she read several more pages aloud from the novel she had chosen, when the other couple in their cottage entered the kitchen and began to get breakfast together, Belle knew she needed to extricate herself, dress and get her things together.

Luckily it only took an hour to fix Emma’s tire at a nearby service station, and soon all thirteen members of their large group were gathered on the driveway between their two rentals, dressed comfortably and with good walking shoes, ready to drive to the welcome center and pier where the trolley tour began. Everyone was anxious to get going, chatting about how nice the cottages were, and the things they hoped to see in the next few days.

It was a short drive and they reached the picturesque area where they would board the trolley some several minutes early. The various couples split to stroll along the pier, exclaiming over the view, the sea birds and how close they would come, and sharing some quick private moments together, while still keeping the space where the trolley would arrive in sight. 

Right on time, the trolley pulled into its spot. David gave his name for their reservation and they all boarded. Their party was large enough that it filled the last few seats remaining, interspersed between the groups of twos, threes, and fours who had already been seated. Luckily, most of them hardly minded being pressed in close to the side of their lover. 

Having introduced herself as Georgia, the silver-haired older woman leading their tour began to give them instructions in her charmingly sweet Southern drawl and then launched into her identifications and descriptions of the various places they were passing, as they started down the road which wound by the beach and through both streets full of shops and restaurants and scenic lanes, bounded by live oaks draped with Spanish moss. None of them could resist snapping pictures that hardly captured the wondrous sights, but Mary Margaret and Belle proved to be obsessed with catching every possible moment, until David and Will could only shake their heads and shrug, watching their ladies affectionately, though with a healthy dose of humor as well.

The highlight of the tour was when they stopped at the small Christ Church Fredericka, pausing and disembarking to take in the lovely white building, its stunning stained glass windows, and its aged graveyard stones in more depth on foot. They were seated in the pews within the sanctuary as their guide continued to tell them more of the church’s history and the life of its founder and builder, Anson Dodge. 

Mr. Dodge was quite the fitting historical subject. Not only Belle, who always enjoyed a good story, but the entire tour group listened in rapt attention as Georgia explained how he’d built the lovely church for his sweetheart - only to enjoy a mere three years together before her untimely passing. Though Dodge had carried on in his life and work, accomplishing much that was worthy of praise, and had eventually even married again and founded a home for orphans with his second wife, he had never forgotten or stopped grieving his first love - his True Love, one might say.

Both Belle’s and Mary Margaret’s eyes looked more than a bit glassy by the time the story had been recounted fully, and neither would be rushed or deterred from circling to where the Dodges were buried around the side of the chapel - a simply beautiful resting place infused with a tranquil and reverent hush amidst the live oaks and their dripping trails of Spanish moss.

The entire group from the trolley was in the graveyard when the guide began to speak again about the trilogy of novels written about the area with Mr. Dodge as one of the character inspirations, but at this point Belle’s enthusiasm simply overflowed, and she hurried toward the older woman, breaking in with breathless excitement, “Oh yes! I know that series! Beloved Invader really focuses on him and the mark he made within the St. Simons community, despite what he was going through personally. I remember when I first read that story, how captured I was by his strength and all that he overcame, and now to think we’re standing here where he likely once stood as well…”

Suddenly, she bit off her own flow of words and looked around meekly, as if just realizing that she had rather hijacked the woman’s entire address. “Oh,” she glanced at their guide sheepishly, her voice much calmer and more subdued, “I apologize for getting carried away. It wasn’t my intention to interrupt.”

But judging by the good humored smile on Georgia’s face, she was not at all offended or upset as she waved off the brunette’s apologies. “Never you mind, Sweetie,” she reassured, even as Belle stepped back to Will’s side and linked her arm with his, subtly leaning against him and almost burying her flushed face into his shoulder for a moment. “It isn’t very often we get a visitor so keen and well-informed on our local history. Anson Dodge was indeed quite a heroic figure - well worth remembering.”

Belle nodded her thanks for the generous understanding, but vowed to bite her tongue all the same, not wanting to miss out on something she might yet learn. And if Will got a few more additions whispered into his ears from there on out, she knew he certainly didn’t mind.

Soon they were back on the trolley again, returning to the starting point where they would disembark. As they passed one tall, stately oak however, Georgia pointed out the enigmatically beautiful figure carved into its side.  “And this is Cora, one of our local tree spirits,” their silver-headed guide introduced cheerily. “You can find a map in the visitor’s center leading you to Cora and her compatriots about St. Simons, should you wish to meet them all,” she added with a wink. 

It was really just a fun little carving in the tree trunk, and many chuckled or snapped pictures as the trolley rolled by, but Regina felt an odd shudder run through her frame. Besides the fact the carving shared a name with Regina’s mother, the very last person she wanted to be thinking about, perhaps it was just that she’d never been much for tramping around in nature and smelling like forest. Still, there was something about the wooden visage which just didn’t sit quite right with her.

~*~*~

After disembarking from the trolley, the couples meandered around the surrounding area, taking more pictures and exploring what the seafront had to offer.

Elsa and Liam were drawn to the playground, with equipment designed to look like a pirate ship. As they watched parents pushing their children on the swings and catching them at the end of the slides, Liam draped his arm over his wife’s shoulder, and she wrapped hers around his waist. 

“That will be us in a couple of years, Sweetheart,” Elsa said quietly, aware that no one from their group was close enough to hear. 

“Aye, it will, and I can hardly wait,” Liam replied, pressing his lips to the crown of her blonde, sun-warmed head. 

Belle and Will walked a few blocks to the visitor’s center so she could pick up more brochures and informational books. The tour had sparked her interest in the history of the island, and she was determined to find out more. Will, as usual, was her captive audience, hanging on every word of her monologue as they walked. 

After exiting the building, Will pointed across the street. “Hey, look! There’s that fancy tree they talked about while we were on that trolley thing. Do you want me to take a picture of you in front of it?” he asked Belle. 

“That would be wonderful!” she exclaimed. “You’re always so thoughtful.” 

Digging her phone out of her small bag, she handed it to him, then they walked across the street to the large, old oak, whose low-hanging branches rested on the ground. Will helped Belle find a good spot to stand, then held up the phone, backing up to get a better shot. Just as he was about to tap the circle to take the picture, he tripped over an exposed root and landed with a loud ‘OOF’ on his ass. 

“Oh, Will!” Belle cried, rushing over to him. “Are you alright?”

“Just dandy,” he grumbled, getting to his feet slowly and rubbing his derriere. “Last year, it was me head that took a beating. This year, it’s me arse.” 

“I’m so sorry,” she said, trying to hide her giggle behind her hand. “I could give you a massage later, if you think it would help.” 

Despite his pain, he gave her a goofy grin. “I certainly won’t turn down that offer.” 

She glanced around to see if anyone was looking, then gently patted his bruised bottom and leaned up to give him a kiss.

Unbeknownst to them, the lighthouse had drawn Graham and Ruby’s attention during the tour, and they had taken the opportunity to visit it, climbing to the top to survey the island from a different perspective.

They witnessed Will’s tumble and laughed so hard, they were wiping away tears. When they saw Belle’s response, Ruby said, “Aww, isn’t that sweet?”

“Not as sweet as this ass,” Graham whispered into her ear, squeezing that part of her anatomy.

After sharing a just-this-side-of-inappropriate kiss with him, she pointed out various things to look at while he stood behind her, arms wrapped around her and chin on her shoulder, happy to hold his girlfriend in his arms again, after being away from her for so long.

Meanwhile, back at the boardwalk, Roland led Regina and Robin to the wooden pier, where he watched, fascinated, as fishermen cast their lines and waited patiently for fish to take their bait. Even the most crusty, seasoned angler was charmed by the little boy with dark, curly hair and deep dimples as he ran from one to another, asking them questions about what they were doing.

Mary Margaret found a set of stairs leading to the beach below. She and David descended them and were soon joined by Emma and Killian. The two couples strolled slowly along the packed sand, their arms intertwined. 

“Oh, look!” Mary Margaret exclaimed, stopping and bending down. “A little shell!” She picked it up and held it in front of her fiancé for him to see. 

David examined it as if it were a priceless treasure and declared it to be pretty, but not as pretty as his soon-to-be-wife. Her cheeks pinkened and she gave him a kiss before continuing to scan the beach for more shells. She was thrilled when she was able to add a small, intact sand dollar to the collection David held in the palm of his hand.

Emma and Killian trailed behind the engaged couple, before stopping to watch the small waves, quietly absorbing their relaxing sound. 

“I miss living by the sea,” Killian admitted, his eyes trained on the boats dotting the surface. 

“I know it’s a lake and not the sea, but you could always move to Chicago and work with your brother,” Emma said. “I, for one, would be happy if you did.” 

“I’m not sure my brother would share your enthusiasm, Love. I think he likes having his own identity away from his younger brother.” 

She wrapped her arms around him, laying her head on his shoulder. “Well, at least think about it. This long distance thing sucks.” 

Before he could reply, they heard Liam’s sharp, distinct whistle coming from the top of the stairs. “Time to load up so we can get to the restaurant,” he informed them. 

It took fifteen minutes to round everyone up and get them into the three vehicles so they could travel to Tortuga Jack’s Mexican Cantina. When they arrived, they were excited to learn there was outdoor seating and were soon seated at one long table. Once again, the couples didn’t mind the close proximity, giving them a reason to cozy up to their significant others. 

While they waited for their meals, they munched on warm tortilla chips and kept an eye on the birds who were almost too comfortable around the customers. Whenever a chip was dropped on the ground, they swooped down to peck at it, carrying it away if it was small enough to manage. Robin had to remind Roland several times not to throw the chips on the ground on purpose. 

A couple at the neighboring table had their dog with them, who instantly took a liking to Graham. He and Ruby spent most of the time while they were waiting for their food, petting his brown, curly fur and chatting with the owners. Once their new acquaintances  paid their bill and left, Graham turned to Ruby and said, “You know, I didn’t realize you’re such a dog lover.” 

“Well,” she grinned, running her fingers through his wavy, sandy-colored locks, “I like most dogs, but that one in particular reminded me of you.” 

Graham looked confused. “Is that a good thing? That I remind you of a dog?” 

“Of course,” she said, her smile turning softer. “You know I can’t resist when you look at me with those big puppy dog eyes.” She leaned over and kissed the corner of his mouth lightly.

Their meals arrived and conversation died away as they all ate. Just as they were finishing, the hostess seated another large group of people at the table beside them. They were loud and raucous, clearly having been imbibing for several hours already. One man was particularly obnoxious, and everyone could see the angry steam building in Regina. When he let loose a slew of expletives, she went into full Evil Queen mode. 

Rising to her feet, she tugged down the hem of her blouse and turned to face the offender. “Excuse me,” she said, in a barely controlled voice. “Is it beyond your inebriated comprehension to see that there is a child at this table, one who does not need to hear your foul language? Are you truly that obtuse, or are you just incredibly self-centered to the point of offending everyone around you?” 

The obnoxious man slowly stood up, weaving a bit as he walked over to stand toe-to-toe with her. Everyone at both tables held their breath, wondering what was going to happen next. Robin pushed his chair back, ready to jump to Regina’s aid, if need be. 

“Wha’ did you say?” the man slurred. 

Though the man was several inches taller than she, Regina didn’t blink, her upper lip curling in a disdainful sneer. “I said, this is a family establishment with children present. Your loud and rude behavior is not appreciated.” 

The man drew in a deep breath, puffing out his chest. After holding it for a second or two, he let it out, completely deflating. “Yer right, ma’am. I ap-ap-...what I mean to say is, I’m sorry.” He turned to look at Roland, who was staring at him with wide eyes. “Sorry, lil man. Won’t hap- won’t happen again.” 

“It’s okay, mister,” Roland said, giving him a grin that could win over even the most unpleasant person. Then he turned to Regina. “Thank you, Miss Gina.” 

She bent down to his level and gave him a warm smile, kissing his dimpled cheek before replying, “You’re very welcome, Sweetie.” 

~*~*~

Later that evening after Roland had been put to bed, the friends were scattered between the eat-in dining area playing an escape game - solving riddles and puzzles to escape the Enchanted Forest- and the living room, where the rest of them were working on a slide show of the bride and groom growing up, meeting, and falling in love to use at the end of the ceremony and during the reception. 

“When did you know she was the one, David?” Killian called from his place in the living room where he sat in front of the laptop, hands poised to type whatever came out of his friend’s mouth.

“Huh?” David asked, confused. He’d been hard at work trying to figure out the coded message that would help “Cindy” get to the ball on time and hadn’t paid attention to Killian’s words until he heard his name.

“Was there a moment when you knew you’d marry Mary Margaret? A specific point when you fell in love with her?” Graham repeated the question.

David got up from the table he and Mary Margaret, Liam, Elsa, Will and Belle were all gathered around. As he approached the living room to answer the others’ questions, a chorus of No! Stay back! Don’t you come in here! reached him. 

He stopped with a chuckle, his eyes sweeping over the rest of his friends who were either at laptops of their own or were going through the box of pictures he and Mary Margaret had provided for the project. Regina was manning the copier/scanner, feeding the pictures chosen by Robin and Emma into it.

“One more time?” he asked.

“When did you know, David?” Ruby asked, the slightest bit of exasperation coloring her words. “When did you realize you were in love with Mary Margaret?”

David’s face softened as a nostalgic smile lifted his lips. 

“It was at the Titanic Museum,” he said. 

The previous year, when the two groups met for the first time during their respective Guys Week and Girls Trip, they’d joined together almost from the beginning, getting to know one another and enjoying each other's company, as well as some of the touristy trappings of Pigeon Forge, Tennessee. 

The last day before they’d all return to their homes was spent on the strip, exploring the Titanic Museum and other attractions. They ended the evening with reservations at Dolly Parton’s Stampede for dinner. 

The Titanic Museum was amazing, with each of them receiving boarding passes of an actual Titanic passenger along with their history and why they were traveling to America. At the end of their visit, they had discovered if their passenger made it off the doomed vessel. 

Liam received Captain Smith, whom everyone knew didn’t survive, the captain going down with his ship. Killian’s pass was Henry B. Harris, a Broadway producer who died in the disaster. Graham got Thomas Andrews, the ship’s designer, who also went down with his ship. Will got six-year-old survivor Robert Spedden, who was forever immortalized by Father Frank Browne, an amateur photographer who caught the boy playing with a spinning top on the First Class Promenade Deck.  Robin was Harold Bride, one of Titanic’s two radio operators. A true hero, he stayed at his post tirelessly sending out SOS messages after they struck the iceberg until water began to rush in the room. Miraculously, he still managed to survive, though his feet were frostbitten from spending hours in the freezing ocean water before he finally got into a lifeboat. David and Mary Margaret received honeymooning first class couple George and Dorothy Harder, who both survived. Belle was Margaret Brown, a new money socialite later immortalized by Debbie Reynolds in the musical The “Unsinkable” Molly Brown. Emma received survivor Edwina Trout, a second class passenger returning home to Massachusetts after traveling to Bath, England. Anna Turja was Regina’s boarding pass. The eighteen-year-old was traveling to her new home in America with a large group from Finland and survived. Ruby was first class survivor Gertrude Thorne who was returning home to New York City. Elsa received young Catherine Van Impe who perished in the tragedy. At only ten years old, she was one of the more than one hundred children aboard the vessel. 

The lower floor of the museum contained artifacts from the ship, including an actual deck chair. No photography was allowed, much to Mary Margaret’s dismay. But once they climbed the grand staircase to the second level of the museum, they could take as many pictures as they liked. There they saw a first class estate room as well as clothing from the Edwardian time period.

From there, they entered a large room featuring a grand piano in the center, with pictures and biographies of the nine members of the orchestra lining the walls. There were no ropes around the piano to keep people from touching it, and a simple arrangement of “Nearer My God, To Thee”- the last piece, according to witnesses, to be played by the orchestra as the ship sank- sat on the music rack. While the rest of their group went from picture to picture, reading about the brave men who played to the very last, bringing comfort to those still on the sinking ship, Mary Margaret sat down at the instrument and began to play the old beloved hymn. 

David felt tears form in his eyes as he stood behind her taking a video. He fell in love with her at that moment and thought to himself that he was going to marry this girl.

“When she played the piano in the music room,” David said. “Remember?”

Smiles and nods of agreement told him they recalled the moment as well.

“That was when I knew I loved her.”

“What about you, Mary Margaret?” Regina called.

Now Mary Margaret joined her fiancé, linking their arms. “It took me a little longer,” she said, smiling up at David. “We kept in touch with phone calls and texts after getting back home, and I decided to go to Pigeon Forge for a visit before school started again.” David noticed amused and secretive grins exchanged between Robin and Regina at Mary Margaret’s words and realized exactly what they must be thinking about. “He took me on a nature hike,” Mary Margaret continued, “and when I started talking about all the different flowers, he started picking them and made me a little bouquet of wildflowers. That was when I knew he was the one for me. I still have the flowers,” she sighed dreamily.

“Why does that not surprise me?” snarked Regina, a knowing and bemused smile on her face.

“I’ll have them to show our children,” Mary Margaret continued.

“Now what was that look about, Regina?” Ruby asked out of the blue. Both Robin and Regina’s faces turned a bright red, and David burst out laughing, glad that he wasn’t the only one who noticed their exchanged looks. 

“I wasn’t going to mention it,” David said, “but since you asked, Ruby, and they don’t seem to be terribly inclined to share it, I will.”

Robin and Regina sputtered while everyone else laughed and encouraged David to continue.

“After Regina decided on Knoxville and passed the bar,” David began, grinning widely, “she came over for a visit after school started.” He shot Mary Margaret a significant look, and she turned surprised eyes on her friend.

“What?” she cried. “You didn’t tell me!” Similar exclamations came from the other ladies, with Ruby crowing “Get it, girl!”

“I don’t tell you all everything,” she countered, cheeks flaming anew.

“Don’t you mean y’all?” Ruby asked. “You do live in the South now.”

“No,” Regina deadpanned, raising her chin just slightly. “I refuse to say y’all. That’s the best you’re going to get.”

Ruby laughed while Emma and Elsa rolled their eyes at her snarky response.

“Anyway,” David interjected, eager to continue with his story, “It was Roland’s first day of kindergarten the Wednesday before Labor Day when Regina came over for the long weekend. After Robin dropped Roland off, he went over to Regina’s room in the Lodge. Well, as luck would have it, around the same time, I was walking by Robin’s cabin and could hear water rushing in the basement. Where the hot water heater is.”

Exclamations of dread and surprise sounded from all their friends as David continued the story.

“I got in and found it was flooded,” he said. “So, of course, I had to call Robin. Who was just a little bit occupied.”

Robin and Regina both resembled ripe tomatoes as their friends all whooped and hollered.

“Cock-blocked by the plumbing,” Will commented, shaking his head and laughing. “I think he would have rather snaked Regina’s drain than deal with that mess.” Belle and Elsa both snorted at Will’s comment, and Belle smacked him upside the head.

“William Michael Scarlet,” she admonished him, sternly, but still trying to hold in her laughter.

“Then as soon as he got off the phone with David,” Regina interjected, eager to get away from that portion of the story, “Roland’s school called.”

Robin picked up the narrative from there. “During morning recess, he was swinging too high, and when he jumped off the swing - something he’s done a million times at the Sherwood Forest playground - he landed wrong and hurt his ankle. I had to go have a look at what was happening at home, so I told them my girlfriend was on her way.”

Regina blushed again and a soft smile graced her face. “That was the first time he called me his girlfriend,” she said quietly, a chorus of awwwwws coming from her friends. “When I got there, I could clearly see the half-assed job the student nurse had done wrapping his ankle, plus he didn’t give Roland anything for the pain. I told him it was a good thing he was still in nursing school, because if he’d been the actual school nurse, he’d be lucky if he still had a job the next day. He was shaking in his boots.” 

No one was surprised at Regina’s recounting, and they all praised her handling of the situation.

Emma smiled softly at her friend. “Of all of us, Regina - given the way you were brought up and your own ambitions - you were probably the last anyone would have expected to enjoy motherhood. And yet, here you are, the first of us, very much a mother to Roland.”

Regina blushed and lowered her head slightly before lifting a shoulder in a half shrug and nodding.

“She’s right, Darling,” Robin agreed, pressing his lips to her temple. He looked around at the rest of the room and continued recounting the story where Regina left off. “It was a sprain. We kept him out of school the rest of the week, so he could rest and stay off of it, and get used to using crutches too.”

“Oh, bless him,” Mary Margaret cooed.

“So instead of having some time to ourselves - not like that -” Regina snapped, glaring at Will, “during the day, and then time with Roland in the afternoons, evenings, and the weekend, we had him with us the whole time. It wasn’t all bad though,” she said, smiling affectionately at Robin. “With needing a new water heater, Robin and Roland stayed with me in the lodge and we had a great weekend.”

“We did,” Robin agreed. “And by the time it was over, Roland loved Regina as much as I did.” With those words, he lifted their joined hands and brushed his lips across her knuckles. Regina blushed and ducked her head before leaning over and kissing him on the cheek.

“Did someone take notes for when those two tie the knot?” Ruby asked, looking around.

“You’d better believe it!” Mary Margaret exclaimed.

Regina shot a panicked look at Mary Margaret, who waved away her concerns. “Not right away, I know, Regina. Don’t worry. I’ll just keep this in my back pocket until the time comes.” Regina rolled her eyes and cut them over to where Robin sat, his soft gaze on her settling the butterflies inside that erupted at Ruby and Mary Margaret’s words. She really did love him, and Roland, and she knew they loved her and wanted her to be a part of their family. But was she ready for that? As long as he looked at her the way he was now, she thought she just might be.

“Alright, storytime’s over,” Killian broke into Regina’s thoughts. “As captivating as all these stories are, we’ve got everything we need. You go back and finish your escape game while we put the finishing touches on this.”

With affectionate smiles and chuckles everyone went back to their respective activities until they were ready to call it a night.

~*~*~

Notes

Our trip occurred in April rather than July, of course, but we decided to change the date for plot purposes. We thought it would make sense for Mary Margaret to end the school year before she married and moved to Tennessee with David. Being April, the weather was absolutely beautiful–70s and sunny, but we’ve been told the heat can be positively oppressive in the area in the summer. We chose to give our characters unseasonably cool weather to give them maximum enjoyment of their vacation.

We did take a trolley tour of St. Simon’s Island, and our guide, who was interesting and knowledgeable, was indeed named Georgia.

It might have been Belle and Mary Margaret who were obsessed with taking ALL the pictures in our fic, but in real life, Krystal and Marta were the most dedicated photographers.

The tour stopped at Christ Church Frederica, which was beautiful and meaningful, and, like Belle, we were struck by the beauty as well as the angst of the Anson Dodge story.

The little vignette about Cora the tree spirit was real–although none of us got a chill (One of the many perks of having mothers that are not the literal worst).

We had the various couples split up to see the sights of the island, but in reality we stayed together to see them all–the pirate playground, the lighthouse (although we only saw it from afar), the pier with the fishermen, and the visitors’ center.  Marta, rather than Belle, became known as the one who collected ALL the brochures. ALL of them.

We took a bit of creative license with locations during the rest of this chapter.  Tortuga Jack’s, the walk down the stairs to the beach, collecting of shells, and enjoying the soothing sound of the waves meeting the shore took place on Jekyll Island for us.

The restaurant our characters went to was a real place–Tortuga Jack’s Mexican Cantina. The bit about the outdoor seating, the birds swooping in to steal leftovers, the couple with the adorable dog and the obnoxious (and clearly inebriated) diner at the next table were all real. None of us took the Regina role of telling said obnoxious diner off, though, which is probably for the best.

The Enchanted Forest escape game mentioned in this chapter was real. We managed to beat it in just under 2 hours (the instructions said it was intended to last 1-2 hours). We didn’t, however, make any wedding slideshows as none of us need them at the moment.

We thought we’d take an opportunity in the slide show section to give you a couple of “deleted scenes” from last year’s fic, though. We went to the Titanic museum last year, and we did receive boarding passes just like the characters (in fact our specific boarding passes were used, as well as several others Krystal researched). The piano incident was real–with Jen being the one to sit down at the piano. To her knowledge her musical prowess did not make anyone fall in love with her, though. The OQ date story was, however, entirely fictional.

In chapter 3, our characters head to Savannah for some sight-seeing as well as for the bachelor and bachelorette parties!

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing! We'll be back on Monday when our Destination Dream Wedding heads to Savannah! See you then!

[fandomficsnstuff]

Wolves And Hounds-9

(Warnings: Angst, mentions of the R-word(SA), more angst and this is just not a happy, fluffy chapter I’m sorry<3)

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Karliah had an empty look on her face as she watched the handmaidens carry in the things she had with her, the few things she owned, into the new chambers, the larger room, suited for a wife… and her Lord husband… the thought still sickened her. It had been two weeks already and everything had already been set in motion. Her niece had sobbed when she heard the news and it took everything in Karliah’s body to not cry along with her. She had barely eaten, barely spoken, but her handmaidens gossiped, saying she cried every night, that one time she even destroyed every single thing in her old room when she heard she’d be moved to another chamber, having to be moved from her niece’s side. And of course, gossip reached every part of the castle. Joffrey delighted in the torment Karliah was seemingly going through, he hadn’t seen her smile even once, only when she was with her niece, though that was forced, Sandor could tell.

The thought of marrying him giving her so much dread made his heart ache in a way it never had before. Why the fuck did he care?? He was a man, she was a woman, both of them might not have had a choice but that didn’t matter. Right? It shouldn’t. It shouldn’t have mattered what she wanted. He was brought out by his thoughts when he was accidentally pricked by a needle as his clothes were being fitted to him, a growl of annoyance leaving him and he looked down at the designer, the poor man almost shaking in fear and he scoffed, looking straight ahead again. He felt humiliated, being pampered and dressed up like a doll, unaware that that’s exactly how Karliah felt as she watched her things be moved into the new chambers while standing on that small stool, the clothes being tailored to her, the dress ivory and white, a much different dress than she had ever worn. Her dresses had always been simple, even at feasts, her collarbones being the most revealed. This dress showed her cleavage, pushing up her breasts, the waist was tight and narrow, fitting her like a glove, perfectly, showing off the curve of her hips. The dress became loose from her waist and down, trailing behind her, her sleeves long and soft, made of soft fabric, as light as a feather, much different than the heavy Stark grey cloak she’d be wearing at the start of the ceremony, her shoulders bare as the sleeves weren’t attached to the dress, hanging on their own from her upper arms just under her shoulders. Her dress didn’t have a neckline, the dress being held up by a corset and Karliah felt exposed… Yet she had heard a rumour it was what the queen had asked for and she didn’t dare ask for something to cover her shoulders… or anything that held the dress up past the corset.

There was a knock on the door and soon it opened, Sansa peeking her head inside after being announced and Karliah quickly stepped down from the small pedestal, ignoring the tailor, not caring about ruining his work as Karliah hurried to her niece, hugging her tightly. “Leave us. ALL OF YOU!” Karliah ordered, all of them leaving except the tailor and Karliah rolled her eyes, walking behind a divider with a handmaiden hurrying after her “fine!” Karliah hissed, throwing the sleeves over the top of the divider, the tailor taking them with a displeased look on his face, the dress soon following and Karliah appeared around on the other side of the divider in a robe. Soon the room was emptied of the handmaiden, and the tailor as well, and Karliah gave Sansa a soft smile, yet it didn’t reach her eyes. “I-I heard the wedding will take place soon…”

“Yes, in three days…” Karliah admitted quietly, the two of them moving over to a table, both of them sitting down, Karliah fiddling with the edge of the table, a look of defeat on her face, a dark cloud of dread covering her, shading her from any potential sunlight and warmth. “I-... m-maybe I can talk to the que-”

“No” Karliah stated sternly, lifting her head to look at Sansa “no. Do not get involved in this, Sansa… please, stay out of it… this is my punishment, don’t let it be yours, too” Karliah begged, moving the chair closer to Sansa, taking the girl’s hands into her own, taking in the look of sadness on Sansa’s face, the look of horror and fear. “Sweet Sansa” Karliah mumbled to herself, giving her hands a reassuring squeeze “this-... this is not something any of us could have prevented… and neither one of us can do anything about it… this is not your burden to bear, Sansa…” Karliah whispered, gently cupping Sansa’s cheek in her hand, Sansa’s lower lip trembling, tears forming in her eyes and Karliah managed to give her a smile as close to genuine as possible. “I will be fine. You shouldn’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

“But-”

“I’ll be fine, Sansa…” Karliah assured with a soft smile, Sansa forcing a small smile before nodding, looking down and Karliah sighed and got up, having Sansa stand up as well, hugging her niece with utter adoration. “Gods, you’re tall…” Karliah muttered with a smirk, her smirk growing when she heard a brief chuckle from Sansa, Karliah gently rubbing Sansa’s back comfortingly, holding her niece with a small smile “everything will be alright… everything will work itself out” she whispered, Sansa nodding ever so slightly, curling in closer in Karliah’s embrace.

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Karliah was quiet as she stood outside of the Sept, her heart racing and she felt as though a storm was tearing her apart from the inside, throwing everything inside of her around, breaking everything and scattering the parts in places where they’d never be reunited. She let out a shaky breath as the doors opened and she walked inside and only now did she realise that she was shaking… She closed her eyes and clenched her jaw, willing her body to stop. To stop being so pathetic. So weak. She tensed her body before relaxing it, the shaking stopping everywhere except her hands but she could place those in front of her to hide it. So that’s what she did. She folded her hands in front of her neatly as she walked down the steps and further into the Sept, everyone watching her closely, her brown Stark hair tied up in a southern style that she loathed.

She kept her gaze down until she neared her niece, the young girl standing there, looking so defeated and Karliah forced a smile at her, forced it to reach her eyes so Sansa would believe it to be genuine and it seemed she did. Or they both tried to convince the other that they were fine. As she reached the steps, she gently gathered the front of her dress, walking up, keeping her gaze on the steps, her heart beating against her chest and she felt sick, weak, as though she was ill. As she reached the top of the stairs, by the Septon and her husband-to-be, she finally lifted her gaze, looking at the Septon before turning to face Sandor, her eyes finally resting on him and her eyes widened. He was… well, cleaned up would be a good place to start explaining what she saw. His hair was cleaned and combed back and he had the most ridiculous clothes on, he looked like a noble of the court and she had to admit, it didn’t suit him. Not at all. And by the look of the sour expression on his face, he wholeheartedly agreed. That was the only solace she could find in this moment, their agreement on how awful he looked. She, however, looked beautiful in his mind. He had been so used to seeing most of her hair loose that seeing it pulled up in intricate and complicated ways made her face stand out more, those steel blue Stark eyes peering up at him… he hated it. He hated how beautiful she looked in ivory and white instead of blue and grey, he hated how beautiful her brown hair was, shining in the rays of the sun that peeked through the stained, coloured windows with the symbol of the Faith of the Seven. He hated how the dress hugged her waist so snugly. He hated how he wondered how soft her skin was. He hated all of it. Right? He had to hate it.

“You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection” the High Septon stated and Sandor watch her turn around with her back facing him, his hands, ungloved, took the cape with surprising tenderness that shocked even him, Karliah’s brows furrowing at the tender way the thick cloak was pulled from her shoulders, a yellow and black cloak with three Clegane hounds being draped over her shoulders afterwards and despite his surprisingly gentle touch, she felt as though she might fall ill and present to the entire crowd with how little she had been eating for the last two weeks and three days. Luckily, though, she didn’t. She merely turned around to face him before turning to face the High Septon, Sandor doing the same, damning himself eternally for sneaking a glance at her, her beautiful face void of any emotions, as though she was far away in her own head, dissociating, just waiting for it to be over and done with.

“My lords, my ladies, we stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever” the Septon proclaimed as he brought out a rope and Karliah looked away, shutting her eyes briefly as she felt the urge to sob rush over her, her brows furrowing but she lifted her hand anyway, not caring for how it was shaking, her head turned away from both Sandor and the Septon and Sandor rolled his eyes, placing his hand under hers, a little shocked at how cold her hand was. 

“Let it be known that Karliah of House Stark, and Sandor of house Clegane, are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder” he proclaimed loudly, Karliah feeling a wave of sickness wash over her at his words and she furrowed her brows, shutting her eyes even tighter to hold back the tears. The septon then announced, “in the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity” after he said those words that she loathed, he unravelled the rope tied around their hands. Her hand stayed on top of his as they were bid to face each other, Karliah doing it, although a look of reluctance rested on her face, opening her eyes to look up at him and he saw that start of tears but that was it. No tears in her eyes or clinging to her lashes, a cold look on her face, jaw clenched until she had to force it apart to say the words.

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger…”

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger… I am his and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.”

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger… I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.”

Both of them spoke at the same time, facing each other, Sandor glancing awkwardly at the Septon before clearing his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the entire thing “with-” he cut himself off and Karliah could swear that his cheeks were burning with embarrassment “with this kiss, I-... pledge my love or whatever the fuck I’m supposed to say” he grumbled, leaning down and barely pecked her cheek, standing back with a sour and uncomfortable look on his face and Karliah realised something. It was just as uncomfortable for him as it was for her. Just as humiliating and degrading.

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At some point during the feast, Karliah had wandered off, standing by an open window, a railing being the only thing that kept her from falling to her death down below, the moon casting a pale light on the water in the distance, letting it dance across the ripples. Karliah stood with her fourth goblet of wine, staring out at the sea with an empty look on her face, barely acknowledging the steps of someone approaching. They were heavy steps, yet slow, so it wasn’t her niece. The thought had her guts twisting with guilt, she’d really left her niece alone just to get some space from her own wedding, how selfish. “My Lady” she didn’t react to the voice, the man stepping a little closer with a sigh “My Lady, I can’t tell you how sorry I am-”

“Sorry? What for? For getting married? It would’ve happened at some point. The next thing will be that I’m pushing out child after child… it’s what women are for, after all, breeding” she replied with bitter amusement, looking down at Tyrion before shaking her head, looking back out over the dark sea, her eyes moving to the ground below… so far down below…

“I’m sorry you see it that way-”

“It’s not how I see it, it’s how it is” she hissed with anger, turning to look at him with tears in her eyes, a scoff leaving her “why are you here, Lord Tyrion?? To watch my misery unfold? To watch me be raped and defiled in front of a crowd?? Ah yes, the bedding ceremony, that’ll be fun” she laughed bitterly, downing the goblet of wine completely before scoffing when she realised it was empty “the Gods,” she scoffed “the Gods are hateful things. Spiteful. Petty… I suppose they’d call this my punishment.”

“Punishment?”

“For ‘breaking the rules’” she stated with utter amusement, clearly a little intoxicated by now “I went to war, Lord Tyrion! I donned men’s armour! I tied up my womanly hair, I pissed alone in the woods, I slept near men, I swung a sword” she retold dramatically, unaware that Sandor had left himself to get away from all the cheering people, having heard her voice and somehow found himself nearing it, only to find her talking with Lord Tyrion. “Gods, I killed many men” she admitted with a grin, shaking her head with amusement “I was only thirteen… the second I had heard of my sister’s abduction, my father and brother’s death, I raced forth, I donned armour, picked up a sword! Yet I couldn’t save her, not even my brother could save her…” a while passed as she just stared at nothing in particular with utter despair “who would save me now?” she asked the last bit with remorse, looking into her cup before scoffing “I’m out of wine, which gives me a reason to fuck off and be alone” she stated bluntly, mockingly curtseying before leaving, surprisingly not stumbling one bit despite being so heavily influenced by the wine. As she approached the nearest flagon of wine, she grabbed it, filling her goblet almost to the brim before walking off, once again seeking solitude, intending to forget everything, if only for but a moment. She had managed to sneak off to another window in the keep, watching the sea with an empty look in her eyes once again, her goblet already half empty, her eyes blank as she wasn’t actually looking at anything in particular.

“Well well, aren’t you supposed to be at your own weddin’?” a voice asked and she turned to face Bronn, rolling her eyes with a scoff, taking a large gulp of her wine as she looked away from him. “It ain’t so bad-”

“Says the man” she scoffed as he approached further, Bronn scoffing “I meant the wine” he stated and revealed a full flagon that he’d sneaked off with, her eyes widening, a grin instantly forming on her lips “well! Look at that, always prepared, are you?” she asked with a giggle, emptying her glass and snatching the flagon, filling her glass once more, Bronn had to quickly stop her or the wine would spill over but she didn’t seem to mind one bit as she took a large gulp of the newly poured wine. “Think your husband’s been lookin’ for ya” Bronn stated as he leaned against the railing, hearing her scoff as she shook her head “my ‘husband’... he can find me when the bedding ceremony starts, a man like that…” she trailed off, a look of subdued terror filling her face “I stand no chance” she muttered to finish her sentence, trailing off with a distant look in her eyes “you can just-... not marry ‘im-”

“Not exactly. What do you think the ‘king’ will do to my niece if I don’t do this?” she asked bitterly, looking at Bronn before downing the wine, grabbing the flagon and pouring herself a new glass, giving him back the flagon that was almost empty “so what? You’ll get raped for yer niece’s sake?” Bronn asked with a scoff and Karliah was silent, shrugging when he looked at her with shock “I would die for her, a thousand times over… I suppose it’s the same thing…” she wondered aloud and Bronn watched her with sad eyes. “Why not just-... leave?”

“You think I haven’t thought of that??” she asked with a scoff “if I could, I’d haven taken my niece long ago and run for the hills… but we’d only be hunted down like worthless dogs… I can’t take that chance, not with her, not with her life” she admitted quietly before downing the wine in her glass, giving the glass to Bronn before leaving without another word, her stomach begging her for something non-alcoholic and when she arrived back at the table she took note of all the chicken bones on Sandor’s plate, how he’d wiped his mouth with his sleeves and eaten with his fingers. When he saw her sit back down next to him, pristine with not a crumb on her, he felt… strange… nervous… like he was self conscious all of the sudden of his eating habits. It’s not as if he doesn’t know how to eat with a fork and knife, of course he does, it was just-... easier this way. He hesitantly picked up a fork, using it to put more food on his plate instead of just-... grabbing it, but he was shocked to see her reach for a piece of chicken with her bare hands, eating it just as he had done, although with far more grace, a hollow look on her face yet he kept staring at her. She glanced at him when she noticed his staring, hesitantly putting the chicken down, about to do what he had done, pick up a fork and knife, when Sandor himself abandoned them, going back to eating the way he was comfortable, Karliah watching him closely before going back to eating in her own way too.

Soon the king announced that it was time for the bedding ceremony and Karliah had never sobered up this quickly, her eyes wide and she clutched the glass in her hand so tightly that her knuckles turned white and Sandor was worried the glass might shatter and cut her ten times over. Sansa looked even more horrified, as though she was on the verge of jumping up without thinking, as she had done on the king’s name-day when she saved the life of that poor man whom Joffrey had intended to drown with wine. Though she would not be made a fool of. She stood up herself, the hall growing quiet at the cold look in her eyes, her eyes scanning the room intently before turning her head to Sandor, looking at him before simply picking up the front of her dress to walk down the few steps from the large table the two of them sat at, alone. She walked into the crowd, the people parting for her as she walked with her hands in front of her and her head high, Sandor hesitantly following, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck as he left.

Soon they arrived at the new chambers, the handmaidens waiting inside and when they saw the pair arrive, one got a brush ready, the two of them preparing to… well… prepare her for bed. As they walked over to begin help her undo everything, Sandor walked over and damn near slapped them away “fuck off!” he growled, the women hurrying out and Karliah couldn’t stop shaking, her head held high yet tears formed in her eyes as he stood behind her, her fists clenched, as was her jaw, but she was still shaking like a leaf as the door shut, leaving them alone in the room. He reached up and began to undo the laces on her dress, hearing her whimper quietly, eyes shut tightly, clearly bracing herself for the worst night of her life. Sandor scoffed and continued in annoyance until she would be able to get out of the dress herself, stepping back and looking around the room, Karliah turning around to stare at him with confusion and wide eyes, tears running down her cheeks in steady streams and he frowned at the sight “I’m not my brother” he grumbled before taking off that blasted jacket and vest that made him look like some noble shit. He went behind a divider and soon emerged in casual and loose breeches and a tunic, laying himself down on the bed with grunt, eyes already closed and Karliah was still shaking as she watched him, approaching hesitantly, peering at up at him on the bed, his hand over his stomach, one leg still over the edge of the bed, the candle on the table next to him still lit.

She let out a shaky breath before closing her eyes, taking a moment to steady herself before getting herself ready for bed. Once she was in her nightwear, she watched him and the empty spot next to him on the bed, her heart racing with confusion and she hesitantly approached his side. She felt tiny next to him. Tiny and weak and meek and useless. She might as well have been a child, afraid of her own shadow, and she loathed how that made her feel. So, in defiance of that little girl who was oh so frightened by the big scary shadow, she made sure she had her dagger strapped to her calf, just under her knee, and walked up to the bed on as sure feet as possible, pulling the covers back, blowing out the candle before getting under the covers, settling down on her side, unaware that Sandor had opened a single eye to watch her, his eyes moving over her form, her brown hair much longer now that it was unbraided and he leaned up, blew out the candle and did as her, moving to lay on his side with his back to her, both of them trying to get some sleep while keeping as much distance as possible.

[camaro-and-smokes]

Dream a Little Dream of Me

Chapter 20: Can't Help Falling in Love

Tags for this chapter: No warnings, wedding fluff. See all tags for the whole fic on AO3.

All chapters on tumblr >>

Summary: And so they stood before the judge

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The sun was shining behind white fluffy clouds, and a gentle breeze was blowing from the sea. It made the waves slowly sway to the shore and back, only to rush in a bit faster before returning again to the sea.

On the beach, a curtain was moving lazily in the wind. It was wrapped around two poles, connecting them together to mark a place for an altar. Sunflowers were tied to the poles and buckets of them were placed around the altar to mark an area where the wedding ceremony would take place.

As if on cue, the sky cleared and let the sun shine bright when Billy walked out of the hotel doors. When he saw Steve already standing on the beach with the rest of their friends and family, he stopped to take it all in.

Max glanced at her brother. "Need a tissue?" she asked knowingly, more as a statement than an actual question, already digging the pocket of her dress. "Because if you even dream of running now, I'm going to catch you and drag you to that altar. Steve's the best guy you've ever dated and you'll answer to me if you do that to him."

Billy snorted pursing his lips and took the tissue Max gave him. "I would never do that to him, I love him." When he’d stopped the tears trying to find their way out from his eyes, he looked at Max and took her hand. "Let's go, the rest of my life is waiting for me there."

Steve took a deep breath when he saw Billy looking at him from hotel doors. They'd spent the last night in separate rooms and despite it being just one night, he already missed Billy. It was always a joy to see him, but seeing him now, walking onto the beach with Max, to be wedded to him—it was something special. He looked breathtaking, even though he was wearing just jeans and a simple shirt, his hair up on a loose bun, his golden skin and hair gleaming in the sunlight. The view was instantly burned into Steve's heart and he'd cherish it until his last breath. Dustin, Steve's bestman, slipped a tissue to his hand, and he took it with gratitude.

There was no real aisle because there were no chairs but when the guests saw Steve's smile widening and looking behind them, they all turned to look. When they saw Billy and Max approach, they formed one between them.

Billy had to lower his gaze onto the bright sand even though it hurt his eyes. He had given his sunglasses to Max to hold until the ceremony was over for he wanted Steve to see his eyes when they said their vows. But worse than the sun were the tears prickling right under his skin, ones he knew he was unable to hold back the moment he met with Steve's eyes. Seeing everyone he held dear, the ones he'd known for a long time and the ones who'd become very important very quickly because they were dear to Steve, was the other reason. Yet, he glanced up as he and Max walked through the crowd. Robin was there standing next to her partner Vicky and smiling a wide smile at him and mouthing you're gorgeous. Dustin's girlfriend Emily, who was also a writer, was wiping her eyes. And of course Steve's mother Margaret, who had practically adopted Billy, smiling at him and not hiding the fact that she had clearly cried more on that morning than he had. Chrissy smiling the widest smile, and finally Eddie, who was trying to keep a straight face even though Billy could see that he, too, was overwhelmed by emotions.

And so they walked in front of the judge.

When he stopped in front of the crowd with Max, he glanced at her. She smiled and he squeezed her hand for the last time before she let go and moved to the side. Billy took a deep breath as Steve stepped next to him and took his hand. Billy looked at Steve and when he saw him smiling, his big brown eyes looking at him as lovingly as only he could, the floodgates opened.

“Hey, don't cry, gorgeous,” Steve whispered and gave Billy the slightly wet tissue he had wiped his own eyes into just a moment earlier. “We didn't even get to the good part yet.” He kissed Billy's knuckles. “Shall we?”

Billy smiled, and nodded, for words had totally escaped him.

What the judge said before the vows was just a buzz for them both, sounding just like adults speaking in the Peanuts cartoons. Steve held Billy's hand tightly and squeezed it reassuringly whenever Billy sniffled, wiping his own eyes from time to time. When it was time for the vows, the judge smiled to them both and took a step back.

“Let me just get the paper from my pocket,” Steve said and let go of Billy's hand. “I had to write it down for I knew I couldn't remember a thing when saw Billy. I was right,” he chuckled, making Billy and the guests laugh. He took Billy's hand again turning to face him, and looked at the paper. He looked up at Billy's eyes, and swallowed.

“Billy. Before I met you, for a long time my world had been in turmoil and my attention in things that really didn't matter. When I dreamed of you for the first time, and heard your laughter, it was all I could think of. When I finally met you for the first time, the person who matched the delightful sound that had bewitched me, the freckles on your face, the bluest eyes I've ever seen, the sharpest wit I’ve even encountered, everything that you are - my world turned on its axis. It was crystal clear to me from almost day one, that if I was lucky, there’d be a day I'd be standing on an altar with you. I can't put it in words how happy I am now to be here. I’m so lucky that you wanted me enough you agreed to this.”

“Of course I wanted you, you fool,” Billy mouthed silently, and laughed.

Steve smiled and continued: “You make me want to be a better person. You make me want to work less on the outside and more on the inside and give more of me and to love more.” He paused, and took a deep breath, averting his eyes from the paper, and letting it drop into the sand. “I have never loved anyone the way I love you. The love I feel for you is overwhelming and overflowing, and in its priority it has taken over everything else in my life. I want to give my everything to you every single day. No matter what waits ahead, I will be there with and for you, in sickness and in health. I want to have the family we've both dreamed of with you. And when the end comes, I want to be there with you, too."

“That's the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me,” Billy whispered only to Steve to hear, sniffling. “I don't think I can top that.”

Steve chuckled. “You're a writer. You'll do just fine.”

“Steve. The amount of love I have for you is simply ineffable. When I first met you I was sure I was living in a dream and sure that I was to wake up any moment. But I didn't. Because you weren't a dream. You were real, and you took me in as I am, with my flaws and all. I thought I had loved and been loved before, but I had never felt love so deep, so special, I have with you. You shower me with your affection every moment of every day, and you make sure I always know exactly how much you love me. Which is a lot." He paused to wipe the tears that were falling on Steve's cheek with the back of his fingers. "Maybe I could've lived a decent life if our paths had never crossed. But I'm happy they did, because without the light you shine into my life, I'd be lost in the dark. I can't imagine a life without you because while maybe we would be good alone, we're so much better together. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, to have a family with you, to grow old with you. And as you said it so beautifully, even in the end I want to be with you. I will be there, standing by your side and carrying you in return, whenever needed, in the brightest sunshine and in the darkest storm. Your love is all I want to be worthy of, every single day."

When Billy finished they were both swallowing hard.

Steve set his palm on Billy's cheek. "See, that wasn't so hard," he whispered his chin quivering.

After the ceremony, mandatory teary-eyed hugs and congratulations followed and then the wedding photos were taken on the very same beach.

"The rings?" the judge said.

Dustin handed Steve the rings. While putting the ring into Billy's finger he said the famous words of with this ring I thee wed. The platinum ring locked perfectly into the engagement ring.

Billy repeated the same with the plain platinum ring he set in Steve's finger.

"I pronounce you as wedded husbands. You may kiss," the judge said.

Steve pulled Billy into a tight hug and they kissed long and deep, their loved ones cheering and applauding around them.

When the photographer had taken enough shots to work with Steve took Billy's hand, and kissed his knuckles. "I arranged something small just for the two of us in the bridal suite...if you're interested?"

Billy chuckled. "Oh you did? Couldn't wait until evening" Billy asked with a lilt in his voice. "Why am I now surprised."

"Have I become that predictable already?" Steve grinned.

"At this pace, husband, you gotta up the Ruining Billy game quick or I'll get bored before we’ve been married even for a week."

"Well, then we should stop by the garage first to get you from thinking that."

"You want to take me for a ride?"

"Well, I do have a ride planned for you this afternoon, but not this one. Come."

They walked into the hotel garage hand in hand. Since most of the guests for the party in the evening had already arrived, it was full – of very expensive cars. They walked into the very end of the garage where two cars were parked. Steve's Merc, and another one covered with a dark gray tarp that had a massive white bow with a bouquet of sunflowers on the bonnet.

"No fucking way. You didn't," Billy gasped. “Why did you spend money on yet another car?”

"You don't even yet know what it is!"

"It's some super expensive muscle car because you know I love those."

"Well, remove the tarp and see for yourself," Steve said amused.

Billy walked to the car, and traced the shape of the bonnet and the hood with his hand. “It's low. And the shapes aren't exactly something new. Also the bonnet is too long for a 21st century car. And I have a feeling I've seen one like this before...” He looked at Steve, who had a ridiculously wide grin on his face. Billy shook his head, amused, and took the bouquet off the hood, then the bow. Then he started to pull the tarp off. “Fuck me! It’s a 70��s Camaro! I used to have one exactly like this,” he gasped out loud as he kept pulling the tarp off the car. Once it was all exposed, he walked around it admiring the midnight blue pearl color that shined in different pearly blue shades from every angle. When he reached the trunk and saw the license plate, he stopped and looked at Steve, tears brimming his eyes. “Oh, baby,” he breathed. He took a few deep breaths to try to keep the tears from falling. Yet he failed. “She's my old car. How did you find her?”

“I have my ways,” Steve said walking to Billy and wrapped his arms around him. “Do you like it?”

Billy glanced at Steve. “Her. It's a her,” he scolded Steve playfully.

“Okay then. Do you like her new outfit?”

“She's beautiful. I assume she's fully restored?”

“Of course she is. Wanna hear how she purrs?” Steve asked, dangling the keys in front of Billy.

Billy took the keys and opened the driver’s side door. The interior was darker shade of blue than it used to be, but otherwise everything was exactly how Billy remembered it. He sat on the driver's seat, smiling his widest smile. “Man, you even had the radio restored to the original eight track!”

Steve walked to Billy and leaned to the hood with his arm. “No, actually it just looks like it. It connects to your phone with Bluetooth, and as you can see...” he said reaching down to the key and turned the power on, “you can control the songs by turning the knob that was used for searching radio stations left or right. The shop that took care of her wouldn't alter the steering wheel to add controls there, so this was the next best thing.”

Billy laughed. “This is absurd...”

“Go ahead, start her.”

Billy turned the key, and the car roared to life. He closed his eyes and lifted his hand from the wheel and pulled up his sleeve to show Steve the goosebumps hearing the engine lifted on his skin.

"So you like my little wedding present? Was it boring?”

“At least you just proved yourself not to be boring.”

“Oh, at least I'm not boring? That's all?” Steve said, mock-offended.

Billy bit his lip. “Okay, maybe you're the best husband in the world,” he mumbled.

Steve leaned further down in the car smiling a smug smile. “I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that. Care to repeat?”

“Wanna fuck in here?” Billy asked biting his lip seductively.

“Hey, no evading the question! Okay, sure, yes, now that you brought it up we could do that too, but I need to hear those magic words first.”

Billy leaned his head to the backrest and licked his lips. “You're the best husband in the world,” he drawled and smiled. “Happy?”

Steve smiled, and walked to the other side of the car, opening the door and sitting down.

Billy let out a laugh. “You really want to have sex here in this cramped space? On her pristine leather seats?”

“Where else?” Steve asked, brushing Billy's thigh with his hand, finally pushing it between his thighs. “Wouldn’t she be the most appropriate place to have sex for the first time as a married couple?”

“Yeah, she actually would be,” Billy moaned.

“Good. Because I told the guard to lock the garage doors and not to let anyone in for an hour once we got here. Also,” Steve whispered, took his hand away from Billy's crotch and leaned behind the driver’s seat, “I had these brought in.” He pulled out two small bottles of champagne and a small container of strawberries. “Strawberries, because they're your favourite, and something to skol with. Don't worry, it's alcohol-free."

“I was looking for something more flashy from you to start our marriage, but I’ll take this."

“You’ll take it?” Steve asked, incredulous.

“Like I said, you have to up your Ruining Billy game to keep me interested.” Billy trailed the stitches on the wheel with his fingers. “Though she’s a pretty good start,” he sighed.

Steve rolled his eyes as he opened the bottles.

Billy turned on the seat as much as he could to face Steve and leaned in, laughing. “I’m just kidding, baby,” he whispered, and pecked Steve's cheek. “You’re amazing. One of a kind. My husband.”

Steve smiled a crooked smile, and handed Billy the other bottle.

Steve raised his bottle "To us."

Billy smiled and clinked his bottle on Steve's. "To us."

[edwardpinestar]

Hey,

Can I request a fluff deathpuss wedding or honeymoon fic? Since you've gotten a few requesting fic for your angsty au's, thought you'd appreciate one that's more light hearted.

Most definitely! I do have to admit, as much as I love the angst, it can get a bit tiring after a while, so some good old fluff is a most appreciated pick-me-up. Sorry for taking so very long with this, though.

Posted this on AO3 too!

It was sunset.

Soft, pink and orange light filtered through delicate, pink cherry blossom trees, the flowers and petals of which had drifted down from abudent trees, to blanket the cobbled path the trees hugged the side of. The air was warm, with a refreshing, slight breeze, and in the sky, there where smatterings of fluffy white clouds coloured pastel by the sinking sun. The subtle, life-filled smell of spring filled the air, fresh and green.

Two cats and a dog walked down the path.

One, a black and white, tuxedo molly, was dressed in a soft pink suit, with a caplet over the shoulder, the left lapel pinned by a red rose, and neatly pressed pants, which were tucked into tall white boots that had a wedged heels. She had her arm linked with the cat beside her, and a faint, fond smile on her face.

The dog, a small chihuahua pup, was bouncing alongside excitedly, his tail wagging a mile-a-minute, tongue lolling out as he panted. He was dressed the same colours as the tuxedo cat, in a little suit jacket, with a rose on the lapel, and a red bowtie around his neck. He looked as though his excitement was barely contained, but kept slow pace with the two cats.

The third of the party, standing between the molly and pup, was a ginger tabby cat. He, unlike the others, wore white. The floor length gown he wore was fluffy, whimsical tulle, its skirt puffed out, with off the shoulder, billowing bishops sleeves that tapered around his forearm to look as though they wrapped and twisted around his arms. The bodice had flower embroidery, which spread down to the outerlayer skirt and dispersed the further down they went, and formed a sweetheart neckline in the sheer bodice, not extending over the sleeves. While his arm was linked through the crook of the molly's elbow, in both paws he held a beautiful bouquet of red roses, soft pink carnations and red moth orchids. He wore a silver circlet atop his head, around his ears, that resembeled vines, with silver roses, the centres of which were inlaid with deep red rubies, along it as a faux flower crown.

They walked in mutual anticipation, yet silence, as they rounded a corner on the winding path, and found themselves in an open clearing, fresh green grass still blanketed by flower petals. In the clearing, several cushioned benches sat, lined up to make a walkway to an arch adorning in many flowers, of all different colours, with reds and pinks being the most prominent. The benches were filled with people, dressed their finest, watching keenly as the three cats and dog made their way down the aisle. Soft, disembodied piano music filled the air, a peacefull, romantic song.

But Puss in Boots had eyes for none but the man standing at the end of the aisle, right in front of the archway.

The wolf wore a dress as well, his own tea-length, a white gown with the same fluffy whimsy as his approaching groom's. The skirt poofed out, and the sleeves were short and billowy, while lace, completely fingerless, elbow length gloves, embroidered with flowers and sheer where there were none, were on his forearms. His bodice had a plunging neckline, splitting down the centre of his chest until it reached a soft, pastel green sash he wore around his waist. Upon his legs, he wore a white wraps, which left the fronts of his hind paws exposed, and in his tall, thin ears, he wore a pair of gold and emerald earrings.

Puss felt his mouth grow dry at the sight, a soft blush colouring his cheeks as red eyes roamed over his body with the most besotted expression Puss had ever seen.

Another wolf, dark grey were Death was silver-furred, and silver where he was dark grey, just a bit shorter than Death, and dressed in a pastel green, short tulle dress, watched Death with the proud, fond look of a sister glad to see her brother in love, as Life so was for him.

As Puss stepped in front of Death, handing his bouquet off to Kitty, who, along with Perrito, stepped behind him, Death stooped low, almost kneeling, to be more on level with Puss. While the wolf was still taller than the tabby, Puss no longer had to crane his neck back to look into those mesmerising, gorgeous red eyes.

"Hola," Puss breathed out as, in oh-so gentle paws, Death took hold of Puss' paws, dwarfing them entirely, and yet using two to hold him.

Death raised the tabby's paws to his lips, pressing a soft, tender kiss to the backs of them. "Hola," he whispered back, his lips brushing against Puss' paws as he spoke, "Te ves hermoso."

Puss smiled, a bit shyly, the clear lipgloss Kitty and Fiona had insisted upon him wearing glittering in the setting sun. "Tu también lo haces," he replied, his eyes wandering Death with soft appreciation, soaking in every detail of the man before him. "I love you."

"Welcome, friends, family and all between," the officiant said, loudly for the small crowd, before Death could respond. Puss' eyes flickered briefly to her, before returning to his groom's eyes. "We've all gathered here, in this beautiful place, to witness something far more beautiful than it. We've gathered here to watch the beautiful union, of a deep, beautiful love, between Puss," the officiant gestured to the tabby, before gesturing to the wolf as she continued, "and Death."

Death gently rubbed the pads of Puss' paws with his thumb, his touch soft, yet still making sharp claws flex out involuntarily. "Now, I know neither of them want to dally- they are eager for that married life!" There was quiet laughter from the guests, and the officiant waited a moment for them to quieten down, before continuing, "So, we'll get onto the words Puss and Death are so eager to hear today. So, Puss, do you come here freely and without reservation to give yourself to Death in marriage?"

"I do," Puss answered firmly, smiling brightly up at his groom, hoping his sheer love and devotion was obvious in his eyes, which shone with unshed tears of overwhelming joy.

Death swallowed thickly, and carefully squeezed Puss' paws. "Lovely," the officant said with a smile, "And Death, do you come here freely and without-"

"I do," Death interrupted her, sounding a bit choked up. Puss bit back at gasp at how much emotion was in his voice, in his eyes. He had a burning inferno of love, but it did not burn- no, he kept Puss warm with his endless adoration, as he encased the cat within it.

The officiant laughed, as did the guests. "Eager, huh?" she joked, smiling at the couple. "Well, I suppose we ought to get to the vows then. Death, please repeat after me- I, Death, take you, Puss, to be my husband."

"I, Death, take you, Puss, to be my husband," Death repeated, shifting a bit to be closer to Puss.

The tabby cat tuned out the officiant as she spoke, focusing solely on Death's words as they passed his lips, his voice calm and lilting, yet rich with feeling. "I take you as you are, and will love you until time itself ends. I pledge to be by your side for the rest of eternity, through trials and tribulations, I will love you through it all. I am yours, just as much you are mine."

Puss bit his lip, a few tears streaking down his cheeks, as he felt butterflies in his belly like he did when he asked Death on their first date. He was grinning so wide, his cheeks hurt, but even if he'd wanted to, he couldn't wipe his smile away. "I, Puss, take you, Death, to be my husband," Puss dutifully parroted as he distantly heard the officiant speak.

Death's tail was wagging under his dress- Puss could see the fluffy tip popping just barely into view on either side, and the shape of its movement through his dress. "I take you as you are, and will forever be grateful for our love. I pledge to be by your side for however long time provides, and through struggles and ease alike, I will love you forevermore. I am yours, just as you are mine," Puss declared, his claws kneading into Death's paw as he spoke.

"Please present the bracelets," the officiant said, and three little kittens stepped forward, each with a paw on a red satin pillow. Perla, wearing a pretty, soft pink, poofy dress was on the left on Timoteo, who was in the middle, and was leaning into his side to make sure she was touching the pillow. Gonzalo, who was wearing a little suit, a bit like Kitty's, in the same colours as Perla, was doing the same. Timoteo was holding the pillow in both paws, and he wore a suit identical to his brother.

On the pillow, were two bracelets, one significantly larger than the other. They were both made of gold, and shaped to look like vines, with little gemstones within the hold of the vines. The smaller one, that looked more about the size of a ring than a necklace, had rubies and black pearls between the vines. The larger one, looking more like a choker necklace, had emeralds, and black pearls as well.

Reluctantly, the couple released each others paws, to grab a bracelet- Puss taking the larger one in both paws, and Death carefully hooking the smaller one with a claw to lift it. The three children stepped away, as the officiant began to speak again. "Your wedding bracelets are a symbol of your promise to one another. The bracelet, an unbroken and never ending circle, is a symbol of your eternal love."

"Death, as you place this bracelet on Puss' wrist, repeat these words after me; this bracelet symbolises my love for you and the commitments we made today. I will love you forever, I do swear." "Puss, mi sol," Death said as he took Puss' left paw in his, the cat shifting his hold of the much larger ring to his right paw. "This bracelet symbolises my love for you," as he spoke, he lined the bracelet up with the tabbty's paw, and slowly slid it up until it sat snug around his wrist, "and the commitments we made today. I will love you forever, I do swear."

Once his paw was released, Puss was immediately marvelling over the glittering jewellry, the weight and fit of it making his heart swell. "Te amo," Death murmured, before he slowly let go of Puss' paw, and held his left paw out for his own bracelet.

Puss grabbed the bracelet in both paws again, lifting it up from where he'd been holding it at his side. "Puss, as you place this bracelet on Death's wrist, repeat these words after me; this bracelet symbolises my love for you and the commitments we made today. I will love you forever, I do swear." And just as Death did, Puss quietly murmured to him, "Te amo."

"Death, mi luna," Puss began as he lined the bracelet up. "This bracelet symbolises my love for you and the commitments we made today." He pushed the bracelet onto his lover's wrist, until it sat snug, and left both paws on top as he stared into Death's eyes. "I will love you forever, I do swear."

"Puss and Death, you have come here today, and before friends and family, declared your love, commitment and devotion to one another," the officiant said, as Puss took a tiny shuffle closer. "You have given and recieved a bracelet as a symbol of your promises." Death dipped his head down a bit, getting his muzzle close to the tabby's face. "By the power of your love and commitment to each other, and by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and husband. You may now kiss!"

They moved in unison, Puss tilting his head and Death leaning into him, their lips pressing together in a soft, chaste kiss that held the heavy undertones of wanting more. Death put a paw on either side of Puss' waist, encasing the tabby's entire upper body in his fur and paw pads, as the cheers of the guests filled the clearly. Puss leaned back into Death's hold as the wolf slowly dipped him. And when their lips parted, eyes fluttering open and warm with starstruck love, they whispered in unison, just like they'd moved.

"Yo también te amo."

[mimilind]

A Yuletide Reunion in the Shire

Summary: In an alternate universe where the whole Fellowship – and Sméagol – survive and find happiness, Yuletide is coming up and Frodo invites them to a reunion in the Shire.

Pairings: Boromir x Nellas (less known Tolkien elf), Sméagol and Lol-Nani-Ogg (Drúedain OC), Legolas x Kat (human OC from modern Earth).

Word count: 3060 words

Note: This was originally written as a bonus chapter for my long fic Cat of the Fellowship but can be read standalone since it contains no spoilers (except that everyone lives – which it already says in the tags). If you want to know how they all survived you can read the fic. :)

Tags: Christmas fluff, Fellowship reunion, friendship, everyone lives AU, fix-it, some making out, pregnancy (only mentioned).

Image Credits: Old Christmas cards by Jenny Nyström

❈❈❈

A Yuletide Reunion in the Shire

In a jingle of bells, they arrived in Hobbiton shortly before Yule. Nellas and her husband’s sleigh was the most fancy one; it was of black wood with gold lanterns and comfortable seats covered in rabbit fur, and drawn by a pair of headstrong chestnut stallions she had named Fred and George after a tale from her friend Kat's world. They had bought the sleigh in Rohan when the chilly winter rain they started out in changed to a heavy snowfall and made it impossible for their carriage to go further.

Beside them traveled Kat, Legolas and Gimli in a simple sleigh pulled by the horse Arod, then came Aragorn and Arwen’s royal one (but still less fancy), and last in line followed the smallest one where only the noses of Lol-Nani-Ogg and Sméagol peeked out through thick furs and blankets. The sleighs were flanked by two war horses and their riders; the rangers Éowyn and Faramir.

The horses trotted along the main road through a sprinkle of fluffy snowflakes, breaths forming clouds in the frosty air. 

“How lovely,” Kat exclaimed. “It looks like a Christmas card.”

“A what?” Boromir’s voice formed a cloud as well. 

He was very handsome in a fur clad hood, eyes bright and cheeks pink from the chill. Nellas resisted an urge to cover his face with kisses while telling him over and over again how much she loved him. She was learning the fine art of self-control and figured she had become rather good at it the past year.

“It is a kind of letter but with a picture. In my world we would send them to each other this time of year and they looked just like this.” She indicated their surroundings with a gloved hand: the trees shrouded in white; a robin chirping in a branch; a group of hobbit children dressed in bright coats, scarves and hats laughing and playing in the deep snow.

“It is beautiful,” said Arwen. “Such a lovely town.”

The houses in Hobbiton were dome shaped with round doors and windows, and the largest, nicest one was situated on a hill. They tied the horses outside and opened the garden gate.

A hobbit had been clearing a path from the door to the road, now he looked up with a huge grin. “Oh!” He tossed the shovel aside and hurried down to greet them. “My goodness, you came. The whole Fellowship will be reunited at last!”

“Of course we came.” Boromir squatted so he could hug him. 

“When you wrote about your wedding we just had to meet your wife and congratulate you belatedly,” Faramir added, squatting next to his brother.

“Well met, Samwise Gamgee,” said Aragorn, bowing elegantly.

“Strider! Uh, I mean, King Elessar! We didn’t dare hope you would be able to leave your responsibilities at court.”

He grinned. “To you, it will always be Strider, dear Sam. And I left Minas Tirith in the capable hands of my vice-steward. After all, I am king here as well and it is good to travel through one’s realm every once in a while.”

“Come, come, let's get you all inside. Mister Frodo will be thrilled, and my Rosie too, I’m sure. How was the journey?”

“Long.” Arwen yawned.

“Cold,” said Lol-Nani-Ogg from the depths of her hood.

“Fun,” Kat objected. “I love to see real winter again! In Ithilien it mostly rains this time of year.”

Frodo must have heard their voices, for the round door crashed open. “You came!” He nearly slipped down the stairs in his eagerness to join them. “You all came!”

A somewhat chaotic reunion ensued, with many hard hugs and happy exclamations of ‘long time, no see!’, ‘you look well!’, ‘has it really been more than a year already?’, and when they finally went inside there was another bustle as they crowded in the hallway, heads low under the hobbit sized ceiling while their outer garments and luggage were taken care of and rooms assigned.

At last everything was sorted and the guests urged to get changed and rest after their journey while the hosts prepared a festive meal. 

Nellas curiously entered Boromir’s and her room. It was small and snug, with thick curtains, an open fireplace and a human sized bed that must have been bought specially for the occasion. The quilt on the bed was made of strips of fabric in many different colors sewn together, forming an abstract pattern.

“Shall we try the bed?” she suggested.

Boromir smiled. “Good idea.” Stretching out on his back, he bounced on it experimentally. “Mmm, soft. A nap is just what I need.”

She frowned. “I did not mean sleeping.”

“No? What did you mean then?”

“I meant–”

His hearty laughter interrupted her and she jumped on top of him, straddling his broad chest. “You knew what I meant from the beginning,” she accused.

“Aye.” His eyes sparkled with mirth.

“You are always teasing me.” She tried to tickle him as punishment but failed because of how easily he caught her hands and held them.

“Always.”

“Lucky for you I love you anyway.” 

“I do not deserve it.” Still with her hands caught between his, he flipped her on her back and locked her arms above the head. “Now, were we going to try the bed?” 

“Yes, please.” She closed her eyes expectantly as he cupped her face and covered her lips with his. 

The kiss was intense from the beginning; Boromir’s emotions were always near the surface, especially his desire. As their lips moved together, he pressed himself against her with untamed passion while his large hands roamed her curves.

She reciprocated by stroking his shoulders, feeling hard muscle under the rough wool, and wished he would take his tunic off so she could revel in the sight of his bare chest.

Leaving her lips, he began a trail of needy kisses down her neck. His breath was cool against her heated skin, making her heart race and her body ache with want. 

He reached her neckline and opened the first button. “I like this dress,” he mumbled huskily. There were buttons all the way to the hem.

“I… chose it… with you in mind…” she replied breathlessly as he popped them open one by one. “But now it is… your… turn… to undress.”

He pulled off his tunic and shirt in one swift motion. “My pleasure.”

She looked at him with admiration. “No. My pleasure.”

❈❈❈

Sméagol regarded the bountiful table suspiciously. “It is all cooked,” he whispered to his wife.

“I can see that, and don’t you dare be rude about it.” She gave his cheek a quick peck, taking the edge off the words. 

The fat hobbit came over, carrying a plate laden with some whitish, fluffy mess. “I made mashed taters for you.”

Lol-Nani-Ogg gave Sméagol a warning look. “Smell good and look good,” she said in broken Westron. She had never bothered to learn that language entirely since they mostly kept to themselves, and at home they spoke Drúedain.

Sméagol forced a polite smile. “Yess, very nice.”

The hobbit had noticed his wry face and his grin became broad. “I’m only teasing you. Look, here is Rosie with your fish – raw and wriggling, just the way you like it.”

Sméagol regarded the plate of glistening trouts hungrily, relieved and pleasantly surprised. Turning back to the fat… no, to Sam, he said with warmth: “Thank you. We lovess fish.”

Sam patted his back. “Don’t mention it.”

More guests were filing in now, the taller ones bending their heads to pass through the doorway. Luckily the room was spacious and the table large.

Last of all entered Merry and Pippin, neighbors of Master Frodo. Sméagol didn’t know them very well, but they had been in the Fellowship too and seemed quite popular with the others for they caused a loud and hearty round of greetings.

When at last they were done and everyone was seated there was still one empty chair. The nice king looked at it, eyes brightening expectantly. “Is that for…?”

Frodo beamed at him. “Yes, indeed.”

The door opened a final time and a bearded old man walked in, hitting his head first in the door beam and then in the chandelier. “Why, your house keeps getting smaller, Frodo!” he grumbled.

‘Gandalf!’ exclaimed everyone – except for the elves, who exclaimed ‘Mithrandir!’. So typical of their kind, always wanting to be different.

The wizard’s arrival meant more greetings. Sméagol glanced at the fish plate, stomach growling. Was it never time to eat? He was starting to regret accepting Master Frodo’s invitation. Only to think, he could have been nicely tucked in at home with his wife, having all the rice-and-raw-fish cakes he could eat and perhaps taking a stroll by the river in search of birds’ eggs, but instead he was here among strangers, ravenous and feeling out of place.

Frodo rose, calling forth silence by tapping his glass with a knife. “I bid you welcome to Bag End and to this reunion. I am overwhelmed and happy all of you made it here! It feels just like when the Fellowship was formed, but even better now with the addition of so many new friends. But, no more talking; you must be starving, so without further ado: let us eat!”

Finally! Sméagol sent the master a grateful look and grabbed a slippery trout, sinking his sharp teeth into the tender meat.

The meal became more pleasant than Sméagol had anticipated; the food and drink soon revived him, and the others took turns talking about their adventures so nobody seemed to mind his silence. Part of their tales were quite interesting too, particularly the one concerning the master and Sam. Apparently the evil wizard Saruman had escaped from his tower after the war and settled here in Bag End, from where he did plenty of mischief in the country before Frodo and his friends returned. But they fought him bravely, leading hundreds of hobbits to battle and finally driving him out. In the end Saruman’s own servant sliced his throat before he too was killed, and that had been the end of what was now known as the Scouring of the Shire.

This had happened a month or so before Yule the previous year, and during spring the hobbits had worked hard to rebuild everything and restore the broken land. Sam had spread dirt that was a gift from the elf queen Galadriel, and thanks to its elven magic this year’s harvest had been the most bountiful ever in the history of the Shire.

“And part of that is what you are eating now,” he said, indicating his beloved mash.

“The potatoes are really quite good, love,” whispered Lol-Nani-Ogg. “You should try them.”

Tentatively Sméagol took a small spoon. The white fluff melted on his tongue and to his surprise the mellow flavor was really pleasant, with a perfect balance of salt and butter. 

He sneaked a look across the table. Sure enough Sam was watching him with a decidedly smug smirk.

“Not too bad,” Sméagol grudgingly admitted. “But we likess fish better.”

“We do,” agreed his wife, flashing him one of her radiant smiles that always filled his chest with happy flutters. He would never understand what she saw in him, but he was not complaining. Though he knew he didn’t deserve it, the Creator had blessed him in his old age and made him a very lucky man.

When everyone had eaten their fill they moved the chairs closer to the fire and as evening fell they continued talking. Sam served mulled wine and Kat – Legolas’ strange wife who used to be a cat – told them a Yule tale about a child in her world that was the son of the Creator, and something about a stable and a star.

“... and later he was killed as punishment for our crimes. So now everyone has been forgiven for all the bad we ever did, or will do in the future.”

“We are not from your world,” said Boromir. He looked a bit sad about that. 

“I think it works in Middle-earth too. That the worlds have the same Creator.”

He smiled wistfully. “I would argue there are many who do not deserve pardon.” He didn’t say it, but Sméagol got the impression he was talking about himself.

“Nobody deserves it,” she agreed. “But we get it anyway.”

“I believe you,” said Boromir’s brother.

“And I,” said Lol-Nani-Ogg unexpectedly.

Sméagol felt his throat grow a little too tight as the face of his dead best friend floated up before his inner eye. 

Forgiveness… could he really have that?

“Let’s tell riddles now,” said Pippin cheerfully, breaking the serious moment. “I can begin. When young I’m sweet in the sun, when middle-aged I make you gay and when old I’m valued more than ever. Who am I?” He winked and sipped his mulled wine.

“Peregrin Took, your timing is awful,” the wizard muttered, but not unfriendly.

The rest of the evening went by quickly and Sméagol could not recall many times he had enjoyed himself more. When he went to bed that night he reflected that he no longer regretted coming; he had almost forgotten how great it felt to have friends. 

Exhausted after the eventful day, he dozed off with his wife in his arms and slept better than he had in years.

❈❈❈

A cold heap of snow hit Kat squarely in the shoulder. Darn elf; archers shouldn’t be allowed in snowball fights. His aim was uncanny. 

“Twenty-two,” called Legolas’ smugly across the field.

“We’re still one ahead of you, lad,” shouted Gimli back at him, dodging as another ball was hurled his way. The dwarf used his own, special tactic; he preferred to catch his opponent and wrestle them down so he could pour fistfuls of snow directly in their face.

“Over here!” Éowyn waved for Kat to come down into a trench Boromir was making. She had nearly as good an aim as Legolas so she was a useful ally, and Boromir’s brute strength came in handy for the digging part.

Soon Team Éowyn had an effective battle machine going: Kat was speed-rolling hard balls, Boromir provided her with snow for building material and Éowyn launched a continuous barrage on the enemy so fast her gloves became a blur. At the other side, Legolas, Aragorn, Faramir and Nellas were forced to huddle in their snow fort, unable to fight back in the relentless bombardment.

This was Gimli’s cue. Sneakily he advanced on them from behind and pounced on Legolas. “Twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven…”

It would have ended with victory for Team Éowyn if not the hobbit team had unexpectedly chosen that moment to attack. Everyone had forgotten about them because they had spent so long digging snow tunnels rather than engaging in the war.

“For the Shire!” they yelled in one voice, jumping up from the ground in several places at once. Between themselves, Frodo, Sam, Rosie, Merry and Pippin easily bested the surprised enemy leaders and had soon poured so much snow down their clothes they became chilled to the bone.

“I yield,” said Boromir between chattering teeth. 

“Me too,” said Aragorn.

“I count forty hits for the Shire,” said Merry. 

“Only thirty-five for us.” Gimli shook icicles from his beard.

“Victory!” yelled Pippin, making a funny little dance. “Well done, team.”

Legolas left his protective fort and stretched out a damp, gloved hand to Kat. “Peace?”

“Just a moment…” She swiftly produced the snowball she had kept hidden behind her back and threw it squarely in his chest. “There. Even!”

“Sneaky.” He caught her in a wet hug and kissed her with cold lips. 

“Come everyone, let's go in and have a second breakfast,” said Frodo. “I prepared chicken soup before we went out; it should be ready now.”

When they hustled inside, they found Gandalf, Arwen, Sméagol and Lol-Nani-Ogg comfortably drinking tea by the fire. 

The wizard gave the disheveled, shivering warriors a disapproving look. “Fools.”

“Foolissh, indeed,” Sméagol huffed. “We doesn’t like ssnow.” 

After a change of clothes and with her belly full of hot soup, Kat joined the group by the fireplace, taking a seat in Legolas’ lap to save chairs. 

Her heart felt full as well; full of warmth and love, and completely devoid of the stress she remembered from every Christmas in her old world. Here nobody bothered about costly presents or advanced home decorations. She could simply be. Just enjoy the peaceful silence, the pleasant company and her husband’s warm, comforting arms holding her close. It was all she needed.

Kat rested her head against Legolas’ chest, listening to his calm heartbeat and the occasional crackle from the fire. Her limbs were pleasantly tired after the morning’s snowball fight. 

After a while her eyes landed on Rosie Cotton. Sam’s wife was a charming hobbit lady, pretty and cheerful, and had entertained the others with an endless supply of riddles yesterday. But didn’t her stomach look slightly swollen? Under the thick winter clothes it was hard to see clearly.

She sent a silent thought to Legolas via the renewed mental connection they had discovered on the wedding night: Don’t you think Rosie looks a bit on the heavy side? Bellywise, I mean.

Aye, they are expecting. Sam told me yesterday.

And you didn’t tell me? she scolded.

I was busy.

Kat had to grin at that; the previous night had been rather intense. The crackling fire, warm colors and low ceiling in their cozy room had kindled romantic feelings.

She thought more about that night, eyes still lingering on Rosie’s discreet bump. As usual they had taken measures to prevent a such, but maybe… 

I suppose it’s a good time to have a baby now that there is peace in the world, she thought tentatively.

Legolas' arms tightened around her and he buried his nose in her hair, breathing in her scent. Aye, it is a good time.

I have suddenly become a bit tired. She faked a yawn. Time for an afternoon nap?

Good idea. He gave her forehead a soft peck.

Shortly thereafter they left together, hand in hand, to share another moment of sweet love and hot passion – this time without precautions.

❈❈❈

A/N:

Happy holidays! This is a standalone bonus chapter for my long fic Cat of the Fellowship. Welcome to read the full story on AO3 or FFN if you like. :)

[andrealeocoutures-blog]

Creating an Ethereal Ambiance in Your Wedding Dress Boutique

For a dress boutique that specializes in whimsical, romantic wedding dresses, cultivating an ethereal atmosphere is key. The right ethereal aesthetic can transport your clients into a dreamlike space that enhances the enchanting experience of shopping for a special occasion dress or gown.

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Not only does this create a beautiful dimension, it also lends an airy, dreamy quality. You can also use gauzy curtains as lush backdrops for your dress displays. The sheer textiles, when lit properly, will seem to float on ethereal breezes in the space.

Blur Boundaries with Frosted Mirrors

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[rangikuxmatsumoto]

He's definitely going to need to cut down some after this.

Most would be oblivious to such holiday, but in several years of their relationship, it has certainly become a habit of sorts to find these odd festivities as special excuses to celebrate. This time, the blond would be persuaded (read: rushed) into entering her Gigai - meaning, this time it took place in the World of the Living. The amount of organization he's done for this... Definitely wasn't enough. But such, are worries for later.

Standing in-front of a spacious bath room, a large tub in the middle with water still running; bubbles and foam forming progressively, overflowing from the spacious tub's edges as Ikkaku opted to casually ignore the overflowing water levels. God bless the World of the Living and their wacky solutions to problem. "Did you know?" He started, taking the lead and removing his clothes in one swoop; lacking his Fundoshi, as he naturally prepared for this occasion more than she had - as usual, leaving the details to be a surprise of sorts. "Today's bubble bath day!"

An odd thing to celebrate, certainly. Especially considering the concept barely existed, far as he was concerned. But it was highly likely the Female Shinigami Association knew more about it than, well, most anybody else. Definitely not anyone in the 11th. Promptly taking her hand in his, the bald man dipped in the hot water, wincing at the temperature. Nothing he wasn't used to through hot springs, but still unpleasant upon initial entry. "Never knew what we're gettin' into, so. Consider yourself lucky enough to have this first with me!" He declared, plopping himself comfortably into the water - causing the level to rise further. Perhaps splashing some on his girlfriend in the process. Definitely not by choice.

Fine. Maybe by choice.

A luxurious hotel reserved in the World of the Living, with the best facility his lackluster research skills could allow. A big hit to his wallet? Absolutely. Worth it? Absolutely. ...Hopefully. So far, this bubble bath thing wasn't too exciting. But still -- "Happy Bubble Bath Day, or whatever. Now get in!"

Unprompted Asks | Always Accepting

Most couples celebrated their anniversary – if they were the sentimental sort, perhaps even ‘their first kiss’, but dating anniversaries gave way to wedding anniversaries. There were of course the holidays designed for couples, Valentine’s Day, White Day. And of course, couple or not, one always celebrated birthdays. But there were so many holidays to celebrate – some stranger than others – and between the two of them, they managed to make each one more memorable and meaningful than the last.

Hands firmly held in one another’s grasps she trailed a step behind him as he led her down the street in the World of the Living. Most of their silly celebrations didn’t take them here – was there a National Shopping Day? Were they going shopping? Her hopes of a shopping spree were slowly being dashed as they passed by store after store without stopping. Not even for that absolutely adorable dress on the mannequin in the window!

Ugh. On the way back, they were definitely stopping.

Nothing had prepared her for him, leading her into the grandest hotel she had ever laid her eyes on – nor the luxurious spa like set up of the bathroom. Water cascaded down the side of the tub but didn’t spill out upon the marble floor – only the fallen heaps of bubbles sat like fluffy white clouds plucked from the sky to adorn the space. It was a blink, and you’d miss it moment, the way he disrobed so effortlessly, once again leading her towards the intended destination.

“Bubble bath day…” She remarked, a sly little smirk growing on her features as he eased into the hot water. His presence disrupted the water, more spilling out, splashing the hem of her long skirt. “All this for a bubble bath…” Still, she wasn’t about to complain, not when he had clearly gone through quite the trouble to arrange all this for them. Clothing was effortlessly discarded before she stepped forth, placing a hand upon his shoulder to steady herself as she stepped in. The water was certainly warm and after a brief adjustment she sank down, letting the bubbles pool around her chest and up to her chin.

Hands swept small piles of bubbles into a larger collection before her hands dipped under the water to scoop them up into her palms, the free water spilled as she moved over to gently place the crown of bubbles upon his head before she shifted, sinking down into his lap, back against his chest, head lulling upon his shoulder as her eyes fell half closed.

“Happy Bubble Bath Day, Ikkaku.”

[scopostims]

[ID: A 3x3 stimboard of 8 GIFs surrounding a central image.

GIF 1: A timelapse of a red rose blooming.

GIF 2: Hands covered in red liquid curling and extensing as the liquid drips off.

GIF 3: Black liquid slowly clouding water.

GIF 4: A knife stabbing into a white, heart-shaped cake as red jam flies out.

Image: The album cover for the album "A Flair for the Dramatic" by the band "Pierce the Veil".

GIF 5: Slow motion footage of a light-skinned person in a fluffy white wedding dress twirling.

GIF 6: Pale hands pulling and pressing into black slime.

GIF 7: Red-tinted footage of 5 red candles burning.

GIF 8: Red flowers gently swaying back and forth.

Under the caption is a red blinkie reading "queer / nd safespace (cat smile emoticon)". End ID]

A Flair for the Dramatic stimboard :3 🥀 x 🥀 // x x // 🥀 x 🥀

[borathae]

↳ Index [Chapter 01 - I Hate You]

Warnings: alcohol consumption, they hate each other, nudity

Wordcount: 11.4k

You peel your eyes open, already regretting it the moment bright sunlight blinds your vision. You groan in annoyance, rolling onto your side to escape the sunrays hitting your face. Something you regret doing as well as you are now facing a heart-eyed and smiling Jungkook.

“Good morning beautiful”, he whispers, brushing his fingertips down the bridge of your nose.

“Kook. Don’t”, you warn, rolling onto your back to escape his touch.

But to no avail. He follows you, now hovering over you with his elbows on each side of your head and a big grin on his disgustingly handsome face. His naked chest brushes your equally bare one with every breath he takes, eliciting goosebumps on your skin.

“Why?” he pats his eyelashes at you in confusion, “still have insecurities about your ruffled bed hair? After all those months together?” he teases, running his fingers through your messy hair softly.

You scoff, rolling your eyes at him.

“Shut up”, you gently push at his chest.

It makes him grin, well, smirk more so, his eyes starting to sparkle even more than before.

“Fine if you wish”, he rasps as he cups your face to pull you into a hot kiss.

But before his lips meet yours, you turn your head away, making him kiss your cheek instead.

“I said don’t”, you warn.

His naked skin on yours doesn’t feel exciting anymore, it feels suffocating. Or maybe it is because your whole body wants to feel his’, every nerve in your body craves his touch and every cell in your brain screams at you to just give in, do you feel like suffocating.

Jungkook pulls away, clearly confused and hurt.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, despite knowing the answer already.

“You know what’s wrong”, you growl, staring at the ceiling now that Jungkook had rolled off your body and his face isn’t able to distract you anymore.

“Don’t think about it. We still have time. One day, just let me distract you for today and we’ll see about tomorrow when tomorrow comes, not anytime sooner”, he says, already tracing his fingers up and down your arm again.

But you only listen to him half heartedly. Your thoughts are racing with unlived memories of tomorrow.

“Kim fucking Taehyung”, you scoff.

Jungkook’s fingers come to a halt, his jaw clenches.

“Out of all the rich sons my father wants to expand his fortune with, it has to be Kim motherfucking Taehyung”, you groan, rubbing your eyes.

Jungkook grumbles your name in warning, swallowing down the lump which had formed in his dry throat. The morning wood, he had sported just seconds ago and had loved to put to good use, is definitely gone by now.

“I have to marry Kim Taehyung. Can you believe that?” you laugh breathlessly, shaking your head before rolling your head to the side to look at Jungkook.

He is staring at you with cold eyes, grinding his teeth.

The lovely Sunday he had planned for you is definitely ruined now.

He knows it and he knows you know it too.

“Are you ready to go ma'am?“ your assistant asks you, entering your dressing room after having knocked three times. He is carrying a big bouquet of white and pink roses, smiling brightly at you.

You turn around and touch the top of your long white wedding dress. It feels soft under your fingertips, almost like you would imagine touching a fluffy cloud would feel like. You hate it, it shouldn’t feel good, it should feel like sandpaper or razors cutting your skin. Not like fairytales and happiness.

“Do I look ready?” you ask, wanting nothing more than for him to say no just so could have an excuse to rip that god awful dress off your body.

“You look beautiful ma’am. Mister Kim is so lucky”, he smiles, completely oblivious to your clenched jaw and sagging shoulders. Or at least that is what he lets you believe. Truth was, he knew exactly how you were feeling, but didn’t want to overstep his boundaries. So he pretend not to know.

“Thank you”, you mumble, playing with the golden ring on your finger.

Your brother had gotten it for you as his promise to always stay by your side no matter what will come. You look down at it, watching the light dance in the ruby stone. A small smile hushes over your lips, the ring is the only thing you genuinely enjoy right now.

“Let’s go now ma'am. Your brother is waiting for you”, your assistant says, offering you his hand to help you down the step on which you were currently standing.

You accept it, stepping down the unnecessarily high step. He hands you the bouquet of flowers, brushing his thumb over your skin in comfort. Secretly and quickly, but it is enough to show you that he cares enough to know. 

The way to the limousine, which was parked right outside of your parents house, was silent. You were too lost in your own thoughts and your assistant was far too busy with trying to hold your long veil as high as possible so it wouldn’t get dirty. Not that you minded the silence, on the contrary at least you could wallow in self-pity in peace.

You are greeted with a proudly grinning Yoongi in the entrance hall. He is wearing a black suit with a burgundy red tie and a white shirt underneath. He looks like a proper gentleman, the image making you almost laugh. You know him wearing his floor long dressing gown and ugly fur slippers around the house, so seeing him all dressed-up, feels almost foreign to you. Oh how uncomfortable he must be right now.

“Wow you look beautiful”, Yoongi gasps.

“You think so? Thanks, I personally hate it”, you retort.

You can see Yoongi be lost for words for just a moment, as he swallows down what he wanted to say and looks at your assistant for help instead.

“Yeah”, he clears his throat awkwardly, “let’s go”, he decides on saying in the end, locking his arm with yours to lead you to the car.

Once inside your car, Yoongi on the backseat next to you and your assistant in the front, the suffocating feeling inside your chest gets only stronger. Yoongi, who had watched you bite on your nails for a good ten minutes now, finally opens his mouth to speak.

“Want some champagne?” he asks, offering you a glass of the sparkling alcohol.

“Thanks”, you say before gulping down the sour liquid in one-go, not once batting an eyelash.

“Whoa, take it easy there champion”, he gasps, holding onto your wrist to stop you from reaching for the bottle and pouring yourself another glass.

“Why? It’s not every day that your little sister gets married to someone she doesn’t even love. We have to celebrate this wonderful occasion”, you spit.

Yoongi sighs, combing his fingers through his black locks.

“You know”, he starts as he slings an arm around your shoulder and pulls you closer to his body, “I didn’t love Jiwoo at first either. For a fact I despised her. But now look at us, all happy and in love. I am sure you will feel the same for Taehyung one day.”

You know he means well, but just imagining feeling anything other than hatred for Kim Taehyung makes you want to gag.

“That’s different. Jiwoo is actually nice and turned out to be an amazing wife to you. But Taehyung, he is just so-“, you stop yourself for a moment just so you wouldn’t say the wrong thing right now, “-so not my type”, you say in the end.

“I’m sure he will be one day”, he pats your shoulder softly, giving you an encouraging smile.

“No. But let’s just say so for now”, you retort, feeling stubborn and not wanting to give Yoongi any kind of satisfaction.

Just as he says your name to start scolding you, the car comes to a sudden stop. The driver opens the little window, which separates you from the driver booth and just in the next moment your assistants face appears in the frame.

“We arrived”, he announces before getting out of the car to open the door for you and Yoongi.

You can already spot your father waiting for the two of you outside the building with a proud smile on his face. He raises his right hand to wave at you, calling out your brother’s name first before yours falls off his tongue. Would he look at you funny if you simply turned around this instant and fled the scene? You could easily do that. Take a shortcut through the flower beds, ruin your dress in the process and then hide in a far away café. Surely you would be faster than your father or your brother, you always have been. But before you could go through with your escape plan, you are by your father’s side, facing him with a clenched jaw.

“My darling daughter”, he says, meeting you in the middle of the staircase. He puts his hand on your shoulder, giving it a loving squeeze, “look at you, even more beautiful than I had imagined”, he continues.

You force a smile to your face, bowing your head at him in thankfulness. He is never that nice. The feigned kindness makes your skin crawl.

“Thank you father, I have to agree my stylists did an amazing job today. At least now I can look my best whilst having to marry a complete stranger”, your fake smile grows.

Your father’s smile drops, his eyebrow crease.

“There is nothing that I can do here. Behave just like you were taught”, he warns, the loving tone in his voice is gone.

You scoff. You’re impressed, your father held up his façade longer than you had imagined. You know full well what would happen if you continued stepping out of line, just the thought alone scares you. So despite your tongue itching to throw another snarky remark at your father’s head, you mumble a quiet apology and keep your head low.

Your father, clearly happy with your behavior, pats your shoulder, smiling like nothing had happened.

“The company is so proud of you, my daughter. Come”, he says, taking your hand, “meet your husband”, he says as he leads you up the remaining stairs into the big venue.

You feel like throwing up.

Slow piano music starts to play the moment you enter, some classical piece you had never heard of before. Probably Bach or Beethoven, who cares, they all sound the same to you anyways. The guests are already standing when you step through the threshold of the ceremony hall. All eyes are on you, staring at you with as much admiration as jealousy. What are they jealous of? What is there that they could possibly desire? Your dress? Your jewelry? Your future husband? They can have all of it if they so much desire it.

You look at the man so many women in this room envy you for. He is wearing a midnight black suit, it must be custom-tailored judging by the perfect fit. His dark hair is styled out of his face, revealing his forehead. Other people would have swooned at the view, but all you wanted to do was to turn around and leave this god awful place. And judging by the iciness in his stare, he was thinking the exact same thing than you.

You quickly look away, searching the rows and rows of people for any familiar face. Some work colleagues of your father bow their heads at you when you pass them by, your mother’s oldest friend waves her small hand at you when your eyes meet, a businessman from abroad, your brother had worked with a few times in the past, smiles at you when you accidentally make eye contact with him. 

Perhaps he didn’t come today. You wouldn’t blame him, if it was you in his shoes you wouldn’t have come as well.

You pass your sister-in-law next, your brother is already sitting next to her, handing her his silken handkerchief so she could dry her teary eyes. It makes you chuckle, she has always been an easy crier. But your smile falls the moment you notice the empty spot next to her. Someone must have gotten up just moments ago. Has it been him?

You stop all of a sudden, getting ripped out of your thoughts and back to reality. Your father is looking down at you, signaling you with a stern nod of his head into the direction of the official that you had arrived in the front.

Your throat feels so dry, not even swallowing helps.

“Don’t disappoint us, daughter”, he says and then he is already gone from your side, leaving you all alone on a stage you didn’t want to be on. Of course all you get from your father are threats. He couldn't even give your arm an encouraging pat.  

You turn your head to face your future husband. He looks even angrier up close, his nostrils are flared and his jaw clenched. He hates you, and god do you hate him too.

The official clears his throat, raising his hand to stop the music. The guests sit down. The room is so silent now, you can actually hear your own heartbeat in your ears. You hadn’t even realised how much it had raced. You swallow, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves. Taehyung’s eyes narrow, not once breaking eye contact with you in a means to taunt you. You can’t say it isn’t working, your heart begins racing even more.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man, and this woman in official matrimony. Into this agreement these two people come together to be joined. If any person here can show cause why these two people should not be joined in matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace”, the official speaks all of a sudden, nearly startling you.

Taehyung turns around, looking into the faces of his guests and silently pleading them to speak up. It shouldn’t have affected you, but it did, even broke your heart a little if you were being honest. You want this marriage as much as he does, but begging someone to speak up is cruel even for your standards. 

Silence, not even a cough can be heard. He lets out a scoff, turning around again. His eyes meet yours, sparing you one angry look.

The official nods in contentment and continues.

“Marriage is a sacred union between husband and wife and shall remain unbroken. It is the basis of a stable and loving relationship and is a joining of two hearts."

Taehyung scoffs at this, making the official stop for a moment. He sends him a warning glare, clutching the book in his hand until his knuckles turn white.

“We are all here today to witness this joining of two hearts”, he continues, once convinced Taehyung wouldn’t act up again.

Your niece had walked up next to you with a red cushion, which carried the rings, in her small hands. She is smiling up at you with her gums on full display, something she had gotten from Yoongi. You smile back at her, patting her little head gently.

“Thank you love”, you tell her, making her smile just all the more.

Once you have accepted Taehyung’s ring, your niece waddles up to the frowning man beside you. She looks up at him with nervous eyes, clearly scared by the unfamiliar face. You had already expected him to shoot her an angry glare, but instead a smile hushes over his face for just a moment.

“Thanks little one”, he says softly, accepting the ring.

She giggles, hiding her face behind the now empty cushion before she runs down the stairs and into the safe arms of her mother.

You must have stared at him in total shock, because when he raises his head again and your eyes meet, confusion rushes over his face. You quickly look away, studying the golden ring in your fingers instead.

“Do you Kim Taehyung take Min ___ to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the official asks.

Taehyung stares at you for a moment, his jaw clenching. Silence can be heard in the big hall, only the loud breathing of one of the guests is ringing in your ears. Please say no, please say no, please say no and run away.

“I do”, he finally speaks, shattering even the last remainder of hope in your chest.

“Do you Min ___ take Kim Taehyung to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

You look into his eyes, they were still as cold as ever. You could still say no and run away. It would probably ruin your life and your parents would most likely disown you, but at least you would have your freedom. Your freedom and the man, your heart was actually beating for. You take a look into the crowd of people. The spot next to your sister-in-law is still empty. So he didn’t come. Of course he didn’t.

You blink the tears away and look back at Taehyung.

“I do”, you speak, your voice nearly breaking.

“Now repeat after me: With this ring, I thee wed”, the official signals Taehyung to put the ring on your finger.

He takes your hands into his. They feel as cold as ice against your heated skin.

“With this ring, I thee wed”, he says coldly, slipping the golden ring on your finger.

“With this ring, I thee wed”, you speak, following his actions.

You let go of his hands as soon as the burden of the ring was on your finger. You want nothing more than to wipe your hands on your dress. You can still feel the spots his fingers touched, it makes you cringe.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride”, the official announces and closes the book from which he had read the speech before.

Your eyes race between Taehyung’s. You feel so scared all of a sudden, like the air had been knocked out of your lungs. This is the part you had treated the most. You rather eat a knife than kiss him and yet here you were, having to kiss him.

Taehyung takes your head into his hands, looking just as nervous as you do. With the hint of anger in his eyes of course. He leans down, not closing his eyes. And neither do you.

It was a quick kiss, a peck rather than a kiss. His lips only brushed yours before he pulled back again with cold eyes. Relief washes over you, this wasn’t so bad after all. You can live with that half-assed kiss, you can’t even remember how he felt like anymore.

And whilst the two of you are staring at each other with resentment in your eyes, your guests were applauding. 

So this is going to be your life from now on.

Two months prior

“So I heard you will be marrying the Kim Taehyung”, your sister-in-law said as soon as she entered the bar and sat down in the booth next to you.

It had been your third drink in which you had been currently poking around with the straw when she had so rudely interrupted your sulking.

“I guess so”, you mumbled with your voice already strained from drinking too much.

“That’s so exciting, wow. My sister will marry the biggest playboy of all of Seoul”, she laughed and waved a waiter to your table.

“Sister-in-law”, you corrected her, feeling terribly moody.

“I never had a little sister, just an annoying little brother, so please let me have my moment right now”, she said.

“He isn’t that annoying”, you murmured under your breath and you were sure she would have poked questions at you if the waiter hadn’t arrived right this moment. 

“Yes ma'am?” he was in his twenties, probably a student working at this bar to earn some extra money for his studies.

“A Tequila Sunrise please and for my sister a Mojito, but with double the rum”, she told him.

Your eyes grew big, before a fond smile appeared on your face. The waiter bowed, before going back to the bar and telling the barkeeper your order.

“You know me too well”, you mumbled, taking a sip from your half empty Mojito.

“I know you need it”, she said, taking one of your hands into hers.

“Now, do you want to tell me how you could convince Kim fucking Taehyung to marry you?”

“Of course, are you ready for the romance story of the century?”

She nodded slowly, unsure if you were being sarcastic or not.

“Once upon a time there were two adults. Both of their parents owned big companies. They had never met before and definitely hadn’t planned on meeting. But that all changed when one day the parents of the daughter met up with the parents of the man and without their childrens’ consent they agreed on uniting their children in marriage. The end”, you sighed, watching the ice cubes melt in your glass. The limes had been ruined by your ruthless poking from before, the green pulp swimming in the translucent liquid. 

Jiwoo studies your face, her perfectly groomed eyebrows knitted deeply.

“So that’s why I have never seen him at your parents place before. You are basically being sold to someone."

You click your tongue, pointing at her.

“You hit the nail on the head, sis”, you took a long sip of your drink, “and I god damn hate it."

“But that could be a good thing, you know. Uniting your companies is a good idea. Kim Enterprises has the biggest net worth nowadays and with Yoongi married to me, Min Superior will gain enough power that the possibility of becoming first place won’t be that impossible."

You scoff at her words, sending her an annoyed glare.

“Hey, don’t glare at me. Yoongi and I also hadn’t met before our marriage and now look at us. I couldn’t imagine a better husband for me. And I’m sure Taehyung will be the same for you”, she assured you.

“No he won’t, not when I have already Jung-“, you stopped yourself from speaking her little brothers name.

“What? Who?” she gasped, now wide-eyed and at the edge of her seat.

“Nevermind. Look the cocktails are coming”, you said, feeling sober despite the alcohol in your veins.

Present day

As soon as the applause had died down and the guest had sat down again you excuse yourself, quickly running out of the big hall to get some fresh air. Not that anyone would have minded. Deep down they all knew that this was nothing more than a business marriage. They still liked to play pretend however. It's the only entertainment those sick voyeurs got.

You take a deep breath once outside, closing your eyes for a moment. They are burning. Burning so much that all you want to do is cry to get them to stop.

“You look beautiful”, a familiar voice startles you.

You quickly turn to your right.

Jungkook is sitting at the end of the stairs with his hands folded between his legs and his cheeks obviously wet from tears. The tip of his nose is bright red, his lips are swollen from biting them to keep them from trembling.

It feels like someone had forced a dagger right through your heart. Seeing him here and now, all dressed up but crying, it breaks your heart.

“Why are you here? Didn’t I tell you to stay home?” you ask as you quickly make your way to him.

“I couldn’t. My parents told me to come, they said it would be rude otherwise”, he retorts with a shaky voice.

“Kookie god I’m so sorry”, you breathe, breaking the distance between the two of you.

You are in the midst of sitting down when he stops you with a warm hand on your back.

“You’ll get your dress dirty. Sit on this instead. It’s not like I will ever wear this suit again. With all the bad memories attached to it”, he says, already slipping out of his suit jacket to put it on the cold stone for you to sit on.

You sit down. Your legs are touching, the feeling so warm and familiar it makes you ache.

“Did you watch?” you ask, not daring to look at him.

He doesn’t either, both of you keep staring at the wet concrete with your hands itching to hold the other.

“No. I, I couldn’t”, he whimpers, “I’m sorry. I know I should have stayed, it’s your big day after all.”

“Stop”, you warn with a firm hand on his knee.

You can feel his muscle tense under your touch as his legs open further to get closer to yours.

“You know that I don’t want this, so stop calling it my big day”, you spit, finally looking at him with dark eyes.

He turns his head to you slowly, already teary eyed again.

“I know. I’m sorry I just-“, he swallows, “-can’t help it.” 

His hand comes to rest over yours, giving you a soft squeeze.

“I’m so sorry”, you force out before the first of many tears streams down your face.

You don’t even get to lower your head before Jungkook’s hand, cupping your cheeks, supports your head instead. It had come natural to him, cupping your cheeks. He always did so when you were crying.

“I know. Don’t cry, people will ask questions why your makeup is all ruined all of a sudden”, he says, brushing your tears away.

“I’m sorry I just-“, you sob, “-can’t help it.”

You lean closer to his body, silently signaling him to take you into his arms. But before his arms can wrap around your tired body, someone steps out of the doors behind you and calls your name.

Jungkook quickly pulls away, clearing his throat awkwardly.

Footsteps get closer to you, stopping for a moment before a tall shadow squats down beside you.

“There you are ma’am. Oh Mister Jeon? We missed you inside when the ceremony started”, your assistant says, bowing his head at Jungkook beside you.

“Yeah I didn’t feel well, far too many people for my taste”, Jungkook grumbles with a clenched jaw.

Your assistant hums in understanding before his attention falls back to you.

“Everyone is looking for you ma’am. You and your husband are supposed to have your first dance together in less than ten minutes."

“Give me a moment Hoseok I’ll be inside in five”, you tell your assistant, trying your hardest not to sound like you had been crying.

“Okay, I’ll tell the band that they should start in exactly five minutes”, he says.

“Yes thank you”, you mumble.

And with that he gets up again and rushes back inside.

“Guess responsibility is calling again”, Jungkook states coldly.

“I guess”, you say just as coldly as him.

Jungkook stands up, offering you his hand to take.

“Let’s get inside then”, he says, helping you stand up.

He doesn’t let go of your hand even after you have stood up already. His eyes are locked on your intertwined fingers, his lower lip is between his teeth. Your own eyes can’t stop staring at his face, burning his beautiful features into your memory.

“I want nothing more in this world right now than to kiss you, but I know that if I give in I won’t be able to stop myself from throwing you over my shoulder and running off with you”, he confesses.

He rests his forehead against yours, closing his eyes.

“Kiss me then, kidnap me, please take me away from here”, you choke out, holding onto his shirt with shaking fingers.

He leans closer. The feeling of his soft lips on yours is within your reach, burning on your lips already. But it never actually comes.

“I can’t. I’m sorry”, he whispers, squeezing your hand one last time and then his body is gone from yours. “it’s been five minutes, let’s get inside before Hoseok loses his mind over you missing”, he tells you.

It hasn’t even been a minute. But you get his urgency. He is just as heartbroken as you are.

“Okay”, you say, turning around and rushing back inside. If you didn’t rush you would just turn back and throw Jungkook over your shoulder instead. It would be a struggle but at least you could run away from here. 

You don’t wait for Jungkook, knowing fully-well he won’t be following you for a long time.

The dining hall with a dance floor next to the tables is located right next to the ceremony hall. Dozens and dozens of tables were scattered around the ridiculously big hall. They were round of nature, decorated with big bouquets of white and pink roses in golden vases. Ten people were seated on each table, five from Taehyung’s and five from your guests. Your parents are currently chatting with Taehyung’s and your sister-in-law is chatting with two men, you assumed to be Taehyung’s brothers. They have the same stance, so you noticed.

“Mr and Mrs Kim I am so happy to meet you”, you say as soon as you had arrived at your parents’ table. You bow your head respectfully, smiling at the both of them just like you had been taught. Taehyung’s father stands up, shaking your hand with a firm squeeze. He smiles at you, relaxing you all to your surprise. He has a really boxy mouth when he smiles.

“I am glad to meet you too my dear”, he says, still smiling.

His mother gets up next to shake your hand as well. She has an even firmer handshake than her husband.

“You look beautiful today. Our Taehyung can be happy to have such a beautiful wife”, she says, never letting go of your hand.

“Thank you so much Mrs. Kim”, you smile at her before turning to the two men now standing next to her.

“And you have to be Namjoon and Seokjin, his brothers”, you say, accepting the handshake of Kim Seokjin. His hands feel terribly soft in yours. 

You know who Kim Seokjin was, his face was all over the billboards in Seoul. Kim Seokjin, the oldest son of Kim Enterprises and hottest chaebol of South Korea. Apparently, if one could believe the news, he managed to bring in two percent of South Koreas wealth in the last trimester, hence why his face was all over billboards.

“I am happy to meet you”, Kim Seokjin has a sweet voice, not too deep and not too high, it makes you comfortable.

Kim Namjoon, middle child of the three brothers and the fourth biggest shareholder in Kim Enterprises, has a comfortable handshake. Not too tight, but also not too soft. He smiles, showing off deep dimples on his cheeks.

“It is an honour to meet you Miss. I read about the work you did with the schools in Africa, I must say I was thoroughly moved”, he says, voice deeper than that of his brother.

“Oh that”, you laugh shyly, “thank you so much.”

Why does his family have to be so sweet? You had hoped they would turn out to be complete monsters, but instead you were met with good-hearted people and a terribly guilty heart. You had wanted to hate them so badly, but now it would be cruel to do so.

“Now if you would excuse me for a moment. My assistant told me the opening dance is due to happen and I have to find my husband”, you excuse yourself, bowing at your parents-in-law and your own family before walking off to find Taehyung behind the stage.

He is currently sitting on a pillowed chair, sipping on a cocktail - a Piña Colada as much as you could tell – and frowning with dark eyes. He watches you walk up to him, never letting go of the straw inside his mouth.

“Hey, I heard the opening dance will begin now”, you tell him, studying his face. He is slumped over on the chair, his right leg nervously bouncing up and down. He lets go of the straw with a loud smack of his lips before standing up. He wavers for a second before regaining his balance.

“Let’s go and get it over with so I can return to drinking my brains away”, he speaks, his words coming out lulled from the alcohol. He grabs your wrist rather forcefully, dragging you out to the dance floor.

The singer of the band, a rookie group with big dreams and nervous eyes, sees you enter and announces the opening dance as soon as you give him a nod of your head.

“May the newly-wed couple open the dance floor”, he speaks into the microphone before counting down.

The music starts. It is a slow song, the perfect song to dance to when you are in love, when you want to hug your partner close to your body and whisper sweet nothings into their ears. Given the current situation, it feels nothing more than awkward. 

Taehyung drags you to the middle of the dance floor, nearly stumbling over his own feet if you hadn’t pulled him back up again.

“Behave”, you warn him, boring your fingernails into his shoulder.

“Don’t tell me what to do”, he growls before he presses you against his body rather harshly.

You are feeling things you did not want to feel. His stomach pressing against yours, his body heat mixing with yours, his hand slowly getting warmer in yours. As well as his hair tickling your skin when he leans closer to whisper something into your ear. It makes you shiver, your desire to escape this god awful situation growing in your stomach.

“The only reason I am doing this right now, is because my father threatened to cut my dick off if I let people know how much I do not want to marry you. I’m not enjoying this one bit”, he growls and pulls back.

He fakes a smile as to not draw suspicion from the guests.

“Don’t worry I’m not either”, you whisper back before accidentally stepping on his toes.

“Ow”, he hisses, staring at you with anger in his eyes.

You laugh out loud, throwing your head back. A loud hush of adoration goes through the room upon seeing the two of you so happy. How stupid these people are, you are really starting to question how they can lead companies with their tiny little brains.

“I apologize I seem to have misplaced my foot for a second”, you chuckle.

“Whatever”, he scoffs, rolling his eyes at you.

You have to admit at least he knows how to move to the music without making it look awkward. Maybe even for a second, for just a split second when he had twirled you around and had caught you safely again, you had enjoyed the dance. But just for a second, not one moment longer.

Taehyung had let go of you as soon as the last note had been played and the curious eyes of the guest had been gone from the two of you, and had stormed off to the bar instead.

For some godforsaken reason you decide to follow him. Maybe because you wanted a drink yourself or maybe because you wanted to cuss at him for getting drunk before your dance together and nearly having ruined it before it had even begun.

Your eyes are so fixated on Taehyung that they don’t even register Jungkook standing up from his seat to walk up to you. He stops when he sees what you are planning on doing, clutching his hands to fists and clenching his jaw.

“One Mojito please”, you tell the barkeeper, sitting down on the barstool right next to Taehyung.

You look over to your left. Taehyung had obviously noticed your presence, but tries his hardest to ignore your eyes on his face, staring into his cocktail instead with a clenched jaw. You watch him for a moment, trying to come up with the right words to say.

“Someone wants to drink himself into a coma tonight”, you gripe.

Taehyung inhales, closing his eyes to get a hold of his anger. Your words annoyed him. Good.

“I danced with you, our responsibilities are done. So scurry off and annoy someone else”, he grumbles, turning his back to you.

“I’m just trying to save you from a big hangover tomorrow”, you act innocent.

Taehyung turns on his barstool so quickly you are scared he might fall off for a moment. He grasps the bar counter, catching himself before his ass can slip off the leathery seat.

Anger burns in his eyes as he stares you down.

“No you’re not. You are just trying to push my buttons. Don’t-”, he gets off his barstool, taking a step closer to you. Your knee brushes over his thigh, his close proximity making you nervous, “-god damn push them. Not tonight”, he warns with a deep growl.

You want to throw a snarky remark at his head, but he doesn’t give you any chance to do so as he turns his back to you and leaves you at the bar.

You watch him stumble to his seat and fall down on the chair. One of his friends quickly takes his cocktail out of his hands before Taehyung could spill everything on his expensive suit. His friend, small framed but terribly handsome, starts scolding him, giving Taehyung a sobering slap on the back of his head. Given how his friend was currently treating Taehyung, he must be older than him. Taehyung simply nods his head, brushing him off with a wave of his hand before taking the straw of his cocktail into his mouth once again.

You scoff, breaking your eyes away from him. Rude, you could never fall in love with someone as ill-mannered as Kim Taehyung.

A hand taps your shoulder, calling your attention. You turn on your barstool, facing a frowning Jungkook. 

“Jungkook, hey”, you force a smile to your face.

"Want to dance?" he asks, offering you his hand to take. 

One you gladly accept as you jump off the stool and let him lead you to the middle of the dance floor. You could need a distraction right now before you follow Taehyung’s footsteps and drink yourself into a coma.

Although your eyes are on Jungkook’s face the whole time, his own don't pay you any mind, staring at an unaware Taehyung in jealousy. Even as he wraps his arms around you and starts twirling you around to the beat of the music his eyes don't fall from Taehyung. The jealousy basically trips off of him.

"Stop staring Jungkook, people will ask questions", you tell him. 

Jungkook blinks, ripped out of his trance, before he looks at you. 

"I saw the way he talked to you", he grumbles. His fingers around yours tighten as new anger enlightens in his stomach.  

"I had it coming, don't worry about it", you assure him, stroking your hand up and down his arm. 

“And the thing he calls dancing looked so awkward, I wanted to laugh out loud at some points”, he continues, grinding his teeth.

“Now you are just being mean. Besides I stepped on his toes so he got what he deserved”, you start playing with his hair at the nape of his neck in a means to calm him down.

A smirk washes over Jungkook’s face before he snorts a laugh.

“I saw, it was hilarious”, he cackles, the sound of his voice making you smile as well.

The song changes to an upbeat rock song and with it your dancing changes. Jungkook practically flies over the dance floor with you, twirling you around and pulling out moves you had never seen on him before. Your whole body shakes in laughter at this point, your eyes are teary from laughing so hard and your stomach aches in giggles. Even without trying but just being himself Jungkook had managed to distract you from the harsh reality of tonight. You even nearly crash into another couple with your giggly antics, both of you instantly apologizing to the frowning couple with a deep bow of your heads.

“It’s your fault for nearly launching me into the air. You need to control your strength a little better”, you accuse Jungkook with a chuckle.

Jungkook looks at you with big eyes, clearly faking being offended.

“Oh so now it is my fault? You beg me ‘to do the move’ and all I did was follow through with it. How is that my fault?” he pouts.

“You’ve grown too strong Kookie”, you giggle, tracing the outline of his sculpted chest with gentle fingers.

“You think so?” he grins proudly.

“Mhm”, you nod your head, now feeling up and down his firm arms.

As if in reflex Jungkook leans closer to you, staring at your lips hungrily, wanting to kiss you like he always does in situations like these. For a moment you had nearly given in, for just a moment you had gotten on your tiptoes and had held onto his shirt to pull him closer. For just a moment you had nearly forgotten your composure.

“Wait”, you gasp when reality had set back in.

You pull away, clearly confusing Jungkook with your actions.

“We shouldn’t be doing this”, you tell him.

Hurt washes over Jungkook’s face, the sparkle in his eyes extinguishes and his smile turns into a frown. He sighs in defeat, tightening his arm around you in the process. 

"You are right", he agrees as he pulls you closer to his body, "let's enjoy the moment otherwise then."

His smell tickles your nose, his hand feels comforting on the small on your back and the way his thumb caresses the hand he is holding, makes your heart beat faster in your chest. Just moments ago the band had changed songs again, now playing a slow ballad. The perfect song to dance to with your lover, the perfect song to stare into each others eyes and kiss the others lips softly. If only there wasn't a wedding ring sitting heavily on your finger and five hundred guests were currently celebrating your marriage to a man, who wasn’t Jungkook. Your heart feels heavy in your chest at the realisation. 

"I never want this to end", Jungkook confesses before he rests his chin on your shoulder, nuzzling his face into your hair. 

You know he has his eyes closed. He sighs, pressing you even tighter to his body. This isn't dancing what the two of you were doing right now, he is basically hugging you in the middle of the dance floor for everyone to see.  

"Don't you think we are a little too close for it to be still considered dancing with your sibling-in-law?" you ask, stealing a glance at your parents direction to see if they had noticed your discretion. 

They hadn't, they were far too busy with talking to Taehyung’s parents. 

"I think we both know that I am far more than Jiwoo’s annoying little brother for you", Jungkook rasps, ghosting his lips over your jawline in a hushed kiss. 

You shudder at the feeling, wanting nothing more than to close your eyes. Jungkook smirks against your skin when he feels your fingernails bore into his shoulders as your attempt to find your composure. 

"Jungkook didn’t I tell you to stop before someone sees us?" you warn, pushing him away so there would be a healthy distance between the two of you again. You keep a firm hand on his chest to stop him from hugging you one more time.

Jungkook pouts.

"Why should I? I'm horny for you", he confesses, catching you totally off-guard. 

A couple in their sixties suddenly stops dancing next to you, now staring at you. They had most definitely heard you, judging by the distaste written on their features. 

Not wanting to make the situation any worse, you drag Jungkook as far away from the couple as possible. As he stumbles behind you, giggling like an excited little boy and nearly falling over his own steps if your hands hadn't such a firm grasp around his, realisation about his current state washes over you. 

"Are you drunk? Is that why you can't behave yourself right now?" you growl, grabbing his face by his cheeks and studying his face for any signs of intoxication. His pupils are blown out, his eyes glassy and his cheeks red. 

"Great, you are", you scoff, "Sit down, I'll get you some water to drink", you tell him, forcing him to sit down on the next best chair you could find. Thankfully the table you were currently at was empty, so no unwanted eyes were able to watch you right now. 

Jungkook grabs your wrist before you can turn around and leave him to get some water. He nearly manages to pull you onto his lap if you hadn't slapped his hand away in the last moment. 

"Don't be angry at me please", he pleads, reaching for your wrist again.

"I'm not. Yet. Don't try me", you warn. 

He pouts, finally having given up at trying to hold onto your wrist again, now sloughing on the chair. 

"You are going to turn your back on me and walk to your parents table, am I right?" he asks. 

"No", you pull him to his feet by his arm, "we are both going to go to my parents table, sit down at our assigned seats and act like nothing had happened. And then I will ask a waiter to get you some water and sober you up." 

"But-" he complains but gets silenced by a firm squeeze of his arm.

“No buts, you are far too young to be that drunk”, you grumble.

Jungkook scoffs.

“I’m twenty three. I’m not too young”, he complains with a pout.

You arrive at your parents’ table, leading Jungkook to his assigned seat and sitting him down despite his complaints. Everyone, including your dear husband, was watching the two of you with confused eyes.

“Yo Jungkook, are you drunk? Why are you sloughing like that?” Yoongi asks, putting a firm hand on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“Kook you didn’t, what did I tell you about getting drunk”, Jiwoo starts scolding her little brother all to his distaste.

Now that Jungkook was in good hands, well semi-good hands, you are sure Jiwoo will make sure he sobers up, poor Jungkook. You circle the table to sit down at your seat. Right next to Taehyung.

To your surprise he leans in to talk to you. His breath smells of alcohol and his eyes can’t seem to focus on your face.

“What’s his problem?” he asks, eyeing Jungkook.

“Low tolerance”, you lie, “but what do you care?”

He sends you an annoyed glare.

“You are right, I don’t.”

He pulls away again to stare into the menu instead.

Someone kicks your shin under the table, making you whine under your breath. You look around, finding the culprit the moment your eyes meet those of Yoongi. He signals you to smile. You shake your head. His brows furrow, he tries again, now telling you to try talking to Taehyung. You sag your shoulders, telling him that you don’t want to with just a look of your eyes. He shrugs his shoulders, clearly not caring about that. Go on, his eyes tell you. Fine, you give in with a slow nod of your head.

“Do you already know what you will be getting?” you ask in your best customer voice. Yes you decided that using your customer voice was best suited for Taehyung.

He turns to you, raising one of his eyebrows in question.

“Why the nice voice?”

“Because I may have been a little too harsh with you, so let’s start over”, you offer him a toothless smile.

“Can you remember the thing I told you about pushing my buttons?”

You nod.

“Then don’t.”

His brother clicks his tongue in distaste beside him, hitting his arm.

“Taetae don’t be rude to her, she is trying”, he murmurs, sending you an apologetic look.

Taetae. You can’t even imagine how a nickname so sweet can be Kim Taehyung’s.

“I’m not hungry anyways”, Taehyung grumbles as he shakes Namjoon’s hand off and stumbles to his feet to disappear to the bar again.

“I’m really sorry for my sons behaviour. I guess that I will have a long talk with him about it”, his father apologizes with shame in his rough voice.

Seokjin and Namjoon exchange a look at that, shifting on their chairs rather uncomfortably. You don’t really see it however.

“Don’t worry sir”, you assure him, despite the annoyance in your stomach.

The rest of the wedding celebration becomes one big blur for you, the three cocktails and five shots which you had downed after dinner were doing their job. You didn’t want to talk to Taehyung, nor did you try to keep your composure now that Jiwoo had sent Jungkook home to sober up. So of course you got drunk just so you wouldn’t remember anything of the awful night come tomorrow morning.

The next place you find yourself in, is the backseat of a limousine with Taehyung snoring next to you. You have no clue if it is already morning or still night nor do you know where exactly the driver is taking you to. You feel your stomach twist when the car drives over a little bump in the road. Oh how you wanted to throw up right now.

“Mister Choi, could you please drive a little more carefully”, you whine, holding your stomach.

“Sorry Mrs. Kim I didn’t know you were awake”, he apologizes, reducing the tempo of the car.

The title with which he had addressed you, makes your stomach twist even more. You glance over to your sleeping husband. His mouth hangs wide open, little snores escaping his throat whilst his head rolls around, leaned against the window. His tie he has loosened and his expensive suit jacket lies safely on the empty seat between the two of you.

“Stupid prick”, you whisper, eyeing him with disgust.

A moment later the car comes to a full stop making you gag from the movement. That was close, your stomach practically aches from the desire to release.

“Excuse me Mrs. Kim”, the driver apologizes once he sees your pained expression in the rearview mirror.

“It’s okay”, you try to smile, but failing miserably as a new cramp in your stomach makes you gag again.

You quickly open the car door to stumble outside. The air is cold and fresh, making breathing so much easier. You are leaned against a high brick wall, taking deep breaths to keep the contents of your stomach down.

“Mrs. Kim are you alright?” your driver asks as he quickly rounds the car and rushes to your side.

You nod, hiding your mouth behind your hand.

“Just take care of Mister Kim. I can manage”, you assure him.

“Of course, I will”, he says bowing deeply at you before he rushes back to the car and pulls a half-awake Taehyung from the backseat.

You turn your back to them, making your way inside your new mansion instead.  It was a newly built mansion with a big garden around it. The driveway, made out of grey porphyry, leads down a small decline and high stone walls on each side of the path protected it from the stares of the neighbours. Small lights along each side of the driveway next to the walls illuminated the way to the front door. It was made out of glass with black aluminium holding everything together.

You hold your finger to the scanner next to the doorbell. A short peep follows before the door opens magically all by itself.

“Welcome home Mrs. Kim”, the voice of a computer-generated woman greets you, making your stomach twist once again.

“I already hate this name”, you huff, stumbling inside.

It smells like fresh paint inside, something your sensitive stomach wasn’t happy about. You groan, swallowing down the urge to gag.

Once your uncomfortable shoes are finally off your aching feet you stumble further into your mansion, looking at as much as possible.

You have to admit the mansion was as beautiful inside as it was from outside. White marble floor lined through every room and the clean white walls made it seem even more open.

On your right side lies the big open living room. Tall windows enabled a beautiful view into the garden and the illuminated pool on the terrace. A big white sofa with grey fake fur pillows was located in front of a big television. In the corner next to the sofa you could spot a black piano and a fireplace, which was unlit at the moment.

“Why do we have that? I can’t even play piano”, you mumble before turning your attention to your left side.

A corridor leads to three closed doors, which you figure must be either your own bedroom or your guestrooms. You decide to ignore the right side for a moment, walking to the kitchen on the far end of the house instead, which you could already see from where you were standing.

You plop down on one of the bar stools, resting your head on the big cooking island made out of black marble. The cold stone releases some of the dizziness and after a few deep breaths you feel ready to stand up.

"Okay let’s go. One, two, three." You breathe out, gathering strength for standing up and getting a glass of water.

The moment the water touches your mouth you are sure you had never tasted water as delicious as this one before. You take another gulp, closing your eyes and enjoying the cold feeling in your stomach.

“Finally I feel better”, you gush, smiling.

“Well I still feel like shit”, Taehyung groans, startling you.

You hadn’t even realized that he had come into the kitchen and had watched you gulping down the water.

“You want some?” you offer him a bottle.

He stumbles to your side with stretched out arms, staring at the water bottle like it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He basically rips the bottle out of your hands, opening it and gulping it down until even the last drop of the water was down his throat. He ignores the water spilling all over his chin as he does, even as it runs down his neck and soaks his shirt.

“Thanks”, he says, crumbling the bottle and handing it back to you.

“You’re welcome?” you blink, staring at the empty bottle in your hands. Couldn’t he have thrown it away himself?

“I am going to bed”, he says, turning around.

“So no official consummation of your marriage?” you ask with obvious sarcasm in your voice.

“How about you go fuck yourself”, he says, already half way out of the kitchen and not even giving you a second look.

Your mouth hangs open as you stare after him in shock. He didn’t actually just say that.  

You are woken up by your stomach screaming for release the next morning. You stand up as fast as your spinning head allows you to and rush to the enclosed bathroom. To your luck the toilet seat was open. In one swift movement you throw yourself onto your knees, your stomach already emptying itself on your way down.

You hate throwing up, you had hated it as a child and you still hate it as an adult, if not even more. Your throat stings and your stomach aches from all of the tensing up. Your whole body is shivering, you feel cold despite the big amount of sweat running down your back. You lean your back against the glass door of your shower, closing your teary eyes.

“God damn alcohol”, you groan before a second wave of cramps washes over you, forcing you to release everything your stomach had to offer into the toilet bowl.

You lean back again, panting. You hate this so much. You never should have drank that much. You take deep breaths, hoping the ache in your stomach will fade and you wouldn’t have to throw up again. Breathe in, breathe out. Just think of happy things, not of wanting to throw up. Breathe in, breathe out. To your luck it stops hurting with every new breath you take.

You stand up, your knees nearly giving up under your weight. If you hadn’t held onto your bathroom wall and dragged yourself to the sink to rinse your mouth from the sour taste, you would have fallen.

You look into the mirror, regretting it once you see your face. You had been too drunk to actually remove your makeup yesterday, which resulted in you looking like a raccoon today. You clean your face with the cleansing oil and the cleansing foam from your own company. You like the products you had invented, as it gives you the best results for your skin. You dry your face with a soft cotton towel and put on a light layer of moisturizer and sunscreen, both from your company as well. You decide to rinse your mouth with mouthwash once again.

You take one last look at yourself. Given the current situation you look pretty okay, definitely okay enough to show yourself to your housekeeper and husband.

“I hope Mrs Choi has finished breakfast already”, you mumble to yourself. You are too lazy and hungry to actually change out of your pyjamas, hoping Taehyung wouldn’t be in the kitchen to see you like this. He would most definitely tease you for the little hearts on your pyjamas and you are not in the mood for that.

You open your bedroom door, inhaling deeply. The smell of fried eggs, rice and hangover soup hits your nose, making your mouth water. Excitement fills your stomach as you waddle to the kitchen.

“Wow Mrs Choi the food smells amazing like always”, you gush, once you have entered the kitchen.

The small woman turns around, clearly startled by your voice. She bows at you deeply, smiling brightly like a grandmother would at their grandchild.

“Good morning Mrs Kim, the food is nearly finished. Did you sleep well?” she asks, already turned around again to stir the steaming soup.

“Not really, my head was spinning too much, also my stomach retaliated greatly throughout the whole night”, you sigh.

“I’m sorry to hear that Mrs Kim”, the older woman says with honest concern in her voice.

“It was my own fault anyways. I shouldn’t have drank that much last night”, you answer before a dark figure calls your sudden attention.

Taehyung is sleeping with his head resting on the black marble surface of the kitchen island, his body slumped over and his mouth slightly opened. Strands of his dark hair hang into his face, moving with every breath he takes. He is dressed in his pyjamas as well, long black pants paired with a black oversized t-shirt and faux-fur slippers which he had discarded at the feet of his stool. At least you don’t have to feel ashamed of being in your pyjamas in front of him.

“Is he okay?” you ask Mrs Choi, studying the sleeping man in front of you.

“I’m totally fine, safe for the fact that you just woke me up”, he answers groggily, surprising you.

He peels his eyes open slowly, staring at you with narrowed brows.

“Last time I checked, the bed is the place where people normally sleep”, you retort, sending him an equally evil glare.

He sighs, sitting up and rubbing the spot between his terribly dry eyes.

“You don’t say.”

He gets up from the bar stool, trudging to the dining table to sit down at the chair closest to the big windows, which give view into your big garden, and lays his head down onto his hands once again.

You follow his actions, sitting down at the chair opposite of him, your eyes never leaving him. He looks fucked, you had thought you looked destroyed, but after seeing him, you aren’t so sure anymore. His body is visibly shaking, sweat running down the back of his neck and his skin paler than last night. How much did he have to drink yesterday? He groans, his stomach probably telling him to go and throw up.

Should you be nice to him? You really want to punch him in his smartass mouth after what he had said to you last night before bed. He would deserve it.

He groans again, furrowing his brows as if in pain.

“Why did I drink so much last night?” he whines, clearly in pain.

No you were raised differently. You shouldn’t be rude to him, especially now in his hangover state.  

“You look awful. Do you want some water to drink?” you ask, eyeing him.

He shakes his head, dismissing you with a weak wave of his hand. At least his hangover takes up too much of his energy for him to be too rude to you.

Mrs. Choi arrives at your table with the finished breakfast. It smells and looks mouth watering. You can’t wait to dig in.

“Thank you Mrs. Choi, you can go home for today we’ll clean up ourselves”, you say, putting a spoon full of rice and a fried egg on your plate.

“As you wish Mrs. Kim. I will see you tomorrow then. Have a good day Mr and Mrs Kim”, she says bowing her head before shuffling out of the kitchen to the front door.

“Why did you send her home?” Taehyung grumbles.

“Why not? She deserves a break”, you answer him.

Taehyung scoffs, “she hasn’t even worked a full day here and you are already giving her breaks.”

“So? What about it?” you spit.

Taehyung raises his head for the briefest of moments, regretting in an instant as a sharp pain courses through his brain. He lies back down again, groaning as he does. You cock an eyebrow up at him and click your tongue. Fixing your posture you reached for the bowl of rice.

“How many eggs do you want? And do you want some vegetables?” you ask Taehyung, offering him the bowl full of steamed vegetables.

He slowly raises his head once more, looking between you and the bowl before sighing loudly and sitting up straight. The hunger must be bigger than the hangover.

“Thanks”, he says, taking three scoops of vegetables as slowly as his aching muscles allow him to.

You put two delicious looking fried eggs on his plate, regretting it the instant he looks from your chopsticks on his plate up to your face.

“I can take them myself”, he says annoyed, taking a third egg.

“I know, I just wanted to be nice given the fact that we have to live together from now on”, you answer dryly, acting like you weren’t internally cringing at your own actions.

He stares at you for a moment, his eyes scanning the entirety of your face and stopping at your eyes. This is the first time he directly looked into your eyes without the intoxicated haze between the two of you. It makes you nervous. His eyes almost glowed golden in the bright sunlight hitting his face. They were swollen and red, from not sleeping well, so you figured. You narrow your eyes, feeling weirdly nervous at the intensity of his stare.

“Listen Miss Min, I hope you don’t mind me calling you like that”, he begins and you shake your head. You really don’t mind, on the contrary you prefer it.

“We may be living with each other from now on, but please spare me the polite small talk and nice gestures”, he continues.

You look up from your plate just to find him still staring at you.

“I wanted this marriage as much as you did Mister Kim. So for the sake of our own sanity can’t we at least try to make it as comfortable as possible?” you ask annoyed, slowly losing your temper.

For a moment you both just stare at each other, the faint sound of a car honking outside the only thing ringing in the uncomfortable silence.

“Fine”, he finally says, “if it means that you’ll shut up and I can eat my breakfast in peace”, he agrees, finally stopping to stare at you and looking at his plate instead.

You roll your eyes, sighing loudly, deciding to accept his answer as for now. Your stomach was protesting once again and the smell of soup made you forget about your want to throw a pissy remark at his head.

The both of you finish your breakfast in silence. It was a comfortable silence, well as comfortable as not caring enough for each other to make actual small talk and therefore just accepting the silence, can get. Mrs Choi had outdone herself once again, the soup healed the last bit of discomfort and the coffee washed the last remains of tiredness out of your body. Taehyung must have felt the same way too, as his skin finally has gotten its colour back and his eyes weren’t as puffy anymore.

Taehyung is the first one to get up from his seat, taking as many empty bowls and pans with him, as he can carry. He puts them into the sink and turns the water on. You watch him from where you are seated, surprised by how willingly he wants to do the dishes.

You get up from your seat after having watched his figure for a while, taking the rest of the empty dishes with you.

“I am surprised at how willing you are to do the dishes”, you say honestly, putting the dirty dishes into the sink with the rest of them.

“I hate mess and someone has to do the dishes, given the fact that you sent Mrs Choi, our housekeeper and the person actually responsible for such things, home”, he answers dryly, kneeling down to look through the cupboard underneath the sink.

“Well I didn’t want to risk you making a scene in front of her, so I figured why not give her a day off”, you throw back.

Taehyung appears from underneath the sink, looking totally fed up by your attitude with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Maybe this comes as a surprise to you, but I can actually behave myself.”

You snort, mirroring his posture by crossing your arms in front of your chest as well.

“Laugh all you want, for all I care”, he mumbles already squatting down again.

He continues his quest for whatever he is looking for, rummaging around the spacious cupboard.

“If you are looking for the dish soap it’s up here next to the paper towels”, you finally say, holding the bottle of green soap up into the air.

He stands up, taking the bottle out of your hands.

“Thanks”, he mumbles, squeezing a healthy amount of soap into the water.

He puts the first dish into the warm water, rubbing it clean with vigour. You normally would help a person doing the dishes, you actually quite like doing it, it calms you down. Doing the dishes with Taehyung however seems like punishment more than a reward. So of course you choose the one thing, which seems appropriate in this situation. You decide on leaving him to it whilst you go as far away from him as possible.

“Thanks for cleaning the dishes I’ll go take a shower”, you announce, turning your back to him.

You have already taken three steps when a wet hand, grasping you by your wrist and pulling you back, stops you. You stumble backwards, nearly crashing into Taehyung if he hadn’t taken a step back as well. You twist around, sending Taehyung an angry glare.

“Don’t you dare think I’ll be washing the dishes alone”, Taehyung warns, looking down at you.

“Can you still remember when you told me to go fuck myself last night?” you retort instead

“Yeah”, he shrugs his shoulders, “what about it?”

“See doing the dishes without my help as your punishment for your rude words”, you smirk proudly at the way he blinks in confusion. “So as I was saying, I’ll be taking a shower now”, you turn on your heels to finally continue your way out of the kitchen.

“Miss Min come back here this instant!” he yells, but you don’t hear him anymore.