#alternative wedding photographer

[davidfrain]

Need best Alternative Wedding Photographer in Ireland? Book "David Frain - Wedding Photographer Dublin". who is capable of capturing the finer details of your precious moments with your loved one.

[reshinless]

──── day 2: dnd on the hotel door.

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ synopsis. wherein your friends give him.. more than just suggestive photos at your wedding. (you had a private boudoir photoshoot prior to it!)

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ pairings. kinich, neuvillette, zhongli, tartaglia, capitano x gn!afab!reader. !!NSFW/SUGGESTIVE CONTENT!!

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ director's notice. saw a cute tt of this exact topic (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠) will do diff characters next week!

kinich who'd already been so nervous for whatever was to come on this day; he was always more than willing. he knew the first laugh you both shared. the first kiss you both partook in, not everyone he's kissed had such a long-lasting impact on him, that's if he ever kissed anyone at all (that wasn't you.)

it wasn't all that special he said, but everything you've ever wanted in a wedding was there. he remembered what flowers you'd always pluck from the grounds you traveled on. or the colors that always had your eyebrow twitching just hearing the first letter of the pigment's name.

the venue wasn't necessarily small either, borrowing whatever he could in his homeland to make it perfect, even going as far as to asking others for help on what to embellish the locale in.

for as long as you've known him- kinich wasn't much of a romantic. letting you take the lead instead, switching up occasionally by spooning you alternatively. but you remembered he'd always laid his head atop your chest, from the nightmares of his own past, and regrets; he found peace in listening to your heartbeat, and feeling your torso heave slowly.

he wanted to make you feel special today & tonight. so he wants to do it right at least. he tried to fluster you in a way that you'd be surprised, aware he wasn't very amorous.

or at least that's what was in his point of view because you had a whole other plan ready for him. but you didn't know about the surprises he'd throw either.

the whole theme of the wedding was based on his tribe, encased with traces of your own home/favorite colors.

but something that you'd see as a surprise this afternoon was kinich's suit. it wasn't the usual black suit and tie. no- he wore.. your initial around his neck, and his tie was the color of your eyes.

you felt your eyes water a little, walking down the aisle, your arm entangled with the guardian who's been with you since day one. (or whoever you'd like!)

after the classic bouquet toss, and squealings later. you told your newly-wed husband your bridesmaids had a surprise for him. he didn't think much of it; meeting them before, they seemed nice enough. (one of them is mualani btw :3)

mualani who stands beside kinich briefly for the picture, she hands him a polaroid photo from the photographer's kamera. "what is-" he gets cut off, his face turning to playfully sour until it slowly changes to his usual stoic behavior (he doesn't know his face is turning redder by the second)

"you.. hmm." he awkwardly nodded after another picture was taken of his reaction, cheeks aflame; the picture was still so clear in his mind. now it couldn't get out!

the mental image of your body in frilly lace/in nothing but a blanket over you, a simple layer of clothing that stopped him from seeing your bare body- fuck he could feel himself get hard already.

and the more time that passed, progressing with each photo being taken, the worse his boner got. shit he can't believe you're his. and he's damn well lucky to have you.

even as he stood idly, talking to some of the guests, some more of the bridesmaids came up to him, handing him more scenes for him to visualize in his head.

"ahh.. may i excuse myself from this conversation?" he politely bows and walks away to where you were. the eventide's stellar in the sky definitely wasn't shining each time he saw you. oh there it is- that laugh he always loved and fell in love with again each time he heard it.

"pretty.. ahh.. there's something i.. need help with."

kinich who's already in your newly bought home, hurriedly stripping you of your clothes, ready to devour you and eat your cunt out to his content.

kinich who could only palm his erection, as his mouth latched onto your wetness was already waiting for him. your taste, how it smelled, how your slit was already so wet for him- you knew what you were doing. and it worked really damn well.

neuvillette who was already nervous, throughout the proposal, even you relationship before being fiancees, I mean, it was you, why wouldn't he be worried? he was ready to jump off a cliff if anything went wrong if he'd tell the truth, but he'd never say that.

neuvillette who sighed with relief, the days of worrying that something bad might happen to you on your special day with him. taking pictures with the bridesmaids for the wedding's little picture book for you to look back on soon, and maybe even for your kids to look at and call you both corny for.

neuvillette who suddenly received 3 photo frames from 3 of your bridesmaids, confused as he took a look at it, he could only feel the rush of warmth crawling up from his neck to his ears. his horns grew the more he looked into the photos.

"w- where did you get this?" he observed the room shyly, looking for any signs of you, why? to help him out with 'something' of course. no one could take care of it better than you did.

they simply shrugged and walked away, whispering and chuckling to each other. awkwardly walking to find you, pulling you to the side, inside one of the venue's main buildings, bringing you into one of the bedrooms.

"you didn't need to tease me like this." you were pinned to the bed once the wedding ended. the painful boner you had caused hadn't gone away, even now, throbbing, missing where it's supposed to be (inside you)

ripping your wedding dress off your body (not really, just making sure you get out of it without ruining it), he couldn't wait to fill you with his seed. he wanted to see personally if you could take all of him in. he could only caress the very rim of your hole, teasing you with his fingers before he would finally split you apart with his cock.

from the amount of time, he's been alive, his stamina would be unmatched, so it'd be entirely up to you for how long you wanna do this :)

it felt as if he was such a meanie, but his words were different- praising you, and gently holding your wrists in place. it didn't quite match the pace of his cock drilling itself inside you though, it felt deep, and it looked as if the night has barely even started. oh well.

zhongli had never thought of the idea of marriage until he overheard you speaking about it with a few of your friends. it wasn't you necessarily hoping he'd propose, but you were the only one within the group of four to have not been married yet!

he knows you'd never leave him for another, but adding a ring to your pretty little hand definitely would tell all the other men and women alike who try to hit on you to say everything for him.

the wedding was more than just a delight, it was planned to the very smallest of details. it was beautiful, even on a budget of somewhat a lot but not too much; it made sure to shine brighter than most of the stars that night.

before he could sweep you into his arms, and take you upstairs into the home you both chose out before the wedding; some of your bridesmaids, along with your maid of honor had handed him a book.

they said nothing but laughed and walked away to the food section, looking through the book and oh wow.

he hadn't learned what a boudoir was but he definitely enjoyed what he was seeing now. flipping through the pages, staying to the side so no one else could see what was happening. he'll have to ask you about that lingerie set later, white definitely complimented you..

"s'dirty.. you tease me like this, even on our special day? mmmf.." you sat down on his cock, as he showed you off in the mirror. the same lingerie set you wore in the photo book was already ripped off your body, and on the floor. geo marks that scattered, covering most of his arms caressed your thighs that trembled.

his strong arm ran over your body, carefully exploring every inch of you that he could. the thought of being legally, and weddedingly(?) yours. you have his last name now.

he could only imagine how much more pleasure he'd want to give you throughout tonight. he could only praise you for taking him so well, watching you try and use his cock for your own, but he's too big :(.

tartaglia who introduced you with pride to his family after proposing. but watching you treat his little sister and brother so well.. oh he had to get you pregnant.

but for now, he'd put those thoughts to the side, and enjoy his and your special day, no lust, just love.

you had other plans though. and he wasn't gonna complain.

a couple of your bridesmaids took pictures with him for the futurity of the book of photos for his siblings to look through as well. but after each photo, they all handed him Polaroids.

"what's this?" he looked at them confusedly, but all they did was "just look at it!" "you won't regret it!" and boy he sure did not!!! ssshit just covered in a blanket, no nothing underneath? you wanna get fucked tonight?

he pushed you against the wall of the master bedroom. "mmm.. w'na try to get me hard like that again in public, and I'm gonna do a looott worse than tonight, baby."

the ring on your finger he saw as your hand held onto the wall while he stripped you- he couldn't help but let out a loud as hellll groan. even when he held you down to the bed, he made sure to kiss the jewelry on your finger that meant you're his for life.

while you ride him, his eyes are always on the necklace that has his initials on it, watching it bounce up and down on your chest. for the longest time; he was foreign to the idea of even a relationship, let alone getting to marry someone. but he was gonna make sure you'll feel what he couldn't express throughout time.

when he's soo obsessed with nutting inside you, he holds your hips down onto his, making sure not a drop will be wasted. he could already imagine what your kids with him would look like.

capitano who preferred a more quiet wedding. one between simple friends, and I guess co-workers (he was against it but you invited them anyway.)

so in this sense, columbina, arlecchino, and signora had agreed to accompany you as your bridesmaids. tsaritsa also agreed to bless your wedding (because she agrees that you are strong, mentally, and physically, and give capitano something to look forward to, unlike before.)

i guess the others attended (most attended just to say congrats and leave, pierro was best man)

accompanying you down to a glass garden house nearby the venue you chose out, but before he could proceed, your three bridesmaids stopped him. cheeky smiles on signora, and columbina's lips- arlecchino handed him a book.

"they want you to have this." the fourth harbinger states, leaving with the two ladies simply giggling and walking off, opposite sides of arlecchino.

he questioningly opened the book while about to walk back to you but oh. wow.

as he catches up to you, he's still a bit flustered, but quickly composed himself once more. "are.. you trying to tease me, kitten?"

and as much as he hasn't had any experience in a long while, oh boy is he ready to find out if he still got it or not

but capitano never knew he'd be so turned on to think about what real married life had to offer.. like kids. he knew he couldn't necessarily have them since he's a harbinger, but a man can dream, right?

anyways he's already pulling your hair from behind, while he has you doggy style on the mattress. I don't know cause I get the feeling he would.

a tight hold onto the strands of your hair. "fffuck.. this is what you get for looking so fuckin' hot.." he groans.

even so when he isn't fucking your pussy with sloppy thrusts from behind- he's fingering you with his long fingers that make you go wild.

he does take note that his fingers are pretty long, so he's pretty careful when it comes down to that.

you sitting on his lap while he admires you in the mirror, watching how you reacted to simply him adding another digit inside your hole, as another hand held onto your left hand, caressing the ring that binded you to him. he couldn't be happier!

[janthonygarnica]

Putting into words what the heart wants to say. 

Creating and capturing moments for generations to come to witness the moment. 

[quinnlarrabee]

Macron's fiery Sorbonne speech targets summering American Millennials

It’s no coincidence that Emmanuel Macron gave a fiery speech about the threats facing Europe the same week that American Millennials in New York, LA, and Miami began talking about booking their one-way flights to the continent. "There is a risk our Europe could die - we are not equipped to face the risks," Macron said, referring to the dietary allergies, alternative milk needs, and tedious conversations of trust-funded, unemployed young adults who will begin their summer in Paris to attend a museum benefit that spills into a large dinner party with several professional photographers before traveling to Puglia, Comporta, or Ibiza where they will subsist on ‘beautiful tomatoes,’ flat whites, and MDMA. 

Europe has struggled with illegal immigration for decades, and there is no more pressing illegal immigration threat than American Millennials who have decided that being unemployed in Europe is less distressing for their parents than being unemployed in Williamsburg. Google searches for ‘how long can I stay in EU without passport’ spiked in late-April among Americans who have not yet bought a Portuguese passport from a guy who used to run a turnkey Burning Man camp who is now running a Golden Visa scheme in Lisbon. “Our Europe today is mortal,” Macron said. “It can die and that depends solely on our choices,” the choices being whether or not to search and detain for ketamine at customs and how to clearly define tipping protocol in restaurants. 

“It used to be enough to spend a couple weeks in Italy in July,” observes Coco, a 34-year-old retired gallery founder who is on the board of several art-related non-profits that she instructed her unpaid interns to start. “But now it gets so hot in Europe in July that everyone is going in June and even like, May.” Coco has several weddings and dinner parties in various coastal destinations in Europe in June, but she has not yet RSVP’d nor has she booked any travel. “I know I’m going to go, but I’ve just been too busy to look at the dates or book anything,” she says, absently picking some kind of beige matter from the left eye of her toy goldendoodle. Macron at one point asserts in his speech that Europe is “too slow and lacks ambition,” referring directly to Coco’s ambivalent European travel plans. 

Uncertainty permeates the vibe in Europe right now, not because of a military threat posed by a giant, angry country with cocked nukes driven by a weak-minded Cold War relic, but because every Millennial in New York, Miami and Los Angeles has expressed their intention to occupy Europe without declaring the targets. 

“Is very stressful,” says Aldo Melpignano, the proprietor of Borgo Egnazia, a trendy boutique hotel in Puglia that for Europeans costs €120 a night and charges 30something Americans visiting from coastal zipcodes $970. “I see the hashtags on the Instagram, like, I’m coming for your @borgoegnazia,” he says. “Va bene, Allison, when you gonna come for us, and are you gonna come with that stupid capello?” says Aldo while making a pinched-fingers emoji with one hand and pointing to his head with the other. Hotel, coffee shop, organic market, and narcotics purveyors all over Italy, France, Spain, and Portugal have echoed this desire for more resolute planning and fewer hats from the demographic that funds the less productive but more desirable EU countries.  

"We must produce more, we must produce faster, and we must produce as Europeans," Macron said, a rallying cry to European DJs to sample only vocals that were recorded in native European languages.  

“Europe must show that it is never a vassal of the United States and that it also knows how to talk to all the other regions of the world," Macron said, refuting the irrefutable fact that Europe has become a summer camp for unproductive younger Americans and suggesting that they be immediately deported to Bodrum or Izmir upon landing at CDG, MXP, and LIS. 

“This is a betrayal of our values that ultimately leads us to dependency on other counties,” Macron said, making an observation about Europe’s frustration with having to work between May and August in order to show American Millennials how to correctly tap their credit card on puzzling European payment terminals.

“Europe must become capable of defending its interests, with its allies by our side whenever they are willing, and alone if necessary,” said Macron, in defense of French baristas who do not like working with oat milk. Taking a hands-on approach to ensuring the EU’s “ability to ensure our security” Macron and his wife will begin their Summer at a wedding in the Aeolian Islands in early June, float around Sicily or Puglia the following week, head to Bonjuk Bay for an appearance of prominent LA-based DJ, RICHE, and then couch-surf in Santa Gertrudis de Fruitera the rest of the summer.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

I wasn't a royal watcher in 2007 when Kate and William split. Could you share more about it? How? What happened? Why? How did they reconcile? Curious mind!

There’s not a whole lot known about the split since neither Kate nor William have gone on the record to speak about it.

What we know (and most of this is assumptions from a few leaks and some side stories) is this.

In December 2006, Kate and her parents were William’s guests at his passing-out parade at Sandringham Academy. This is considered to be Kate’s official debut as William’s girlfriend, after about 4 years of dating. The Middletons’ appearance at the event made engagement rumors and speculation EXPLODE. Apparently it freaked William out a bit.

In early 2007 (sometime between January and March), William was waffling about whether to commit and kept signing up for new military rotations and trainings. Eventually Philip advised him to, more or less, shit or get off the pot; it wasn’t fair to string Kate along. William decided and broke up with her. Kate accepted it. They went their separate ways - William to do military stuff and Kate went to her family.

Kate decided (maybe on Carole’s advice, it’s not really clear) that she was just going to live her life. She went dancing at clubs with her sister and their friends - most of the clubbing pictures from 2007 are from this time. In April 2007, she signed up for a charity crew/rowing event and began practicing with the team. Royal reporters called Kate to ask about the relationship and what happened. Kate said something like “I haven’t spoken to reporters before and I don’t think it’s appropriate to start now” and they all backed off.

Eventually William began to miss Kate and asked her to take him back. She refused until either he showed some kind of commitment or they discussed getting married. Whatever he did, Kate was satisfied by it and they got back together in June, relaunching their relationship at the Concert for Diana on July 1st, though it wasn’t confirmed until a few weeks later when it was announced that Kate had pulled out of the charity rowing race.

(There’s some speculation that the Queen ordered Kate to quit the team but everything we’ve seen of Kate’s behavior since the relationship outed in 2004 indicates that Kate chose to quit on her own discretion because she had become too much of a distraction and the photographers/crowds watching the practices were disruptive.)

Also, by the way, it was around this time when Katie Nicholls coined the nickname “Waity Katie” while writing about Kate (though she refuses all accountability) and the press, tabloids especially, began using it relentlessly in their coverage of Kate.

Next, in 2008, three Very Big things happened.

First, William received his Air Force wings in April 2008 from Charles. Kate attended the ceremony and this is the first time they were photographed together in a quasi-official way that made it clear they were a) back together and b) very committed.

Second, William asked Kate to represent him at Peter and Autumn Phillips’s wedding in May 2008 when he couldn’t attend for another commitment. This is when Kate met The Queen for the first time. (They speak about this a little bit in the engagement interview.)

Third, Kate attended the Order of the Garter service in June 2008 as William’s guest when he was inducted in as the 1,000th member. She was given a space on the porch alongside Harry and Camilla. This essentially signaled to everyone that they were eventually going to marry (because you don’t go to an event like that without some kind of tacit approval and plan) and we were off to the races.

(Also William and Kate had a few smaller break-ups/pauses through 2005 and 2006 but they were never picked up by and reported in the press the way the 2007 breakup was so the 2007 breakup is considered the “main” breakup. It’s also the inflection point for alternate timelines in royal fanfiction.)

And anon, if you haven’t already, definitely give the engagement interview a watch. I linked to it above. You’ll learn a lot about the way Kate is from what she says and how she carries herself in it.

[moonshynecybin]

5 silly videos that Dorna makes rosquez do in fco au in addition to the newly wed video you mentioned previously

PR activities that hondayamaha make rosquez do in order to sell them as a #normal and #fun couple in the after their outing via explicit photograph in the direct wake of sepang 2015. a short list:

newlywed game. easy. the thing is i think they have to cheat at this one a LOT because theyve mainly been hanging out and fucking in a WORK context in this au up to this point... alternatively its marc knowing vale's favorite movie bc he read it in an interview when he was like 16 and vale feeling like the worst person alive bc he doesnt know as much about marc lmao

formula one day. inspired by this weekend. i think it would be fun to send the new royal couple of motogp to like. monaco 2016 to take rich people pics and watch daniel ricciardo fumble the bag.

track guessing challenge via audio. marc retreating into his mind palace SO serious trying to guess/win while vale is pretendig this is silly slash doesnt matter and still getting just as many as marc correct nonetheless

fan questions. PRE VETTED questions. nontheless the world somehow finds out who tops, bc vale WILL answer those questions in print and has before. we know his exact penis size, his opinion on threesomes, AND whether or not he's a member of the mile high club. he will answer !!!!

joint graham norton or other talk show appearance. they are so drunk lmao

[dancingtotuyo]

Before | 4. the wild has come for you

A Woman Story

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Character death, gun/gunshot, descriptions of blood and gore

Note: no beta we die like Gabe in this chapter

Words: 1176

Series Masterlist | Woman Masterlist | Author Masterlist

Maria pants, hands on her knees watching as life twitches from the infected, blood pouring out on the white snow until he finally stops. She inhales deeply, regaining her composure. He came out of nowhere. Maybe he’s a straggler. She can only hope, but there are likely others around. 

Maria turns back around. “Gabe? Come on, we need to get moving.”

Gabe sits in the snow, back pressed to a tree. His gloves lay in the snow next to him. His eyes squeeze shut. 

“What are you doing? We need to get out of here.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Maria.”

“What the fuck do you mean-“ She stops. 

His eyes open, usually light and teasing now swirling with a serious darkness, rattling Maria to her bones. She’s never seen that from him. He’s always happy, smiling, finding the light in the world, but not this time.

“Where?”

“Maria.”

“Where, Gabriel?”

He holds up his palm. “Got me right where the glove was worn through.” 

“Fuck.” She huffs spinning around. She can’t look at him, can’t focus, can’t be expected to do this. She takes a few steps away. 

“Maria.” 

She doesn’t respond. 

“Maria, where are you going? Get the fuck back here and finish it.”

“Will you shut the fuck up! I can’t think with you yelling like that.”

“There’s nothing to fucking think about!” 

He sounds angry. It sounds so wrong coming from him. Gabe doesn’t get angry. He’s the optimist in a hopeless world, but there’s no hope in this. There is no alternative outcome.

“I can’t shoot you, Gabe!” Maria yells back. Pressure builds behind her eyes. “I can’t do it.” her voice cracks. 

“You have to.” 

She knows he’s right. She thinks of you and the child growing in your womb, the happiness Gabe brings you. 

“Maria, you can’t think about her.”

“She’s my best friend!”

“She’s my wife! It’s my kid!” Tears leak out of his eyes, but he quickly wipes them away. “We don’t have a choice.” 

“I can’t make her a widow!”

“She already is one!”

It pulls the oxygen out of her lungs like she’s been kicked in the ribs. They stare at each other in silence. The wind stops whistling. The birds stop chirping. Nature has never been so quiet. 

Gabe checks his pistol, throwing it in the snow several feet away. He does the same with his hunting knife. “You’ll want these… and this.” He covers the bite with the sleeve of his shirt and peels off his coat so as not to get blood on it. 

Gabe pulls two photographs from his flannel pocket. A creased photo from before a family photo taken weeks before outbreak day. His thumb runs over it. He’ll see them soon. He believes that. Even now, he hears them calling his name. It threatens to pull him away, but his love for you wins the battle in this losing game. His other photo is a Polaroid from your wedding day. He memorizes your smile, and thinks about his last moments with you. He felt the baby kick this morning. His lips tick upward, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. That’s all he’ll ever get of the life you two built together. A light to leave behind, one he hopes shines bright enough to draw you out of darkness. 

“I’m sorry, Doleful.” He whispers, kissing your photo. 

Maria can barely bring herself to gather Gabe’s belongings. Her hands shake. She bares the weight of so much, but this might just be the heaviest. 

“Take care of her.” Gabe says. “She won’t let anyone else, you know. She has to take care of herself, especially right now. Don't let her be alone.”

Maria wipes her tears away. Her pistol is hot against her thigh. She manages a nod. 

“Promise me you’ll take care of her.”

She nods again. 

“I need to hear you say it, Maria.” Gabe doesn’t stop the tears as they slide down his cheeks. 

“Gabe,” she chokes out. 

“Please.”

She takes a steadying breath. He’s never seen Maria shaken like this. Maria can’t remember the last time she let her feelings come across her this physically. “I’ll make sure they both get through this. They won’t be alone. I promise.”

“Make sure she smiles and laughs. Don’t let her go back to what she used to be. She’s got such a beautiful smile…” Gabe smiles letting the memories flash behind his eyes. 

Maria nods, making sure the horses are secured. They’re trained not to run off at the sound of gunshots, but she can’t risk it. The end is so close. 

“Tell Tommy to keep teasing her. She acts like she hates it, but really she loves it. Reminds her of life before.”

Maria manages a smile, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. “Okay.”

“Tell her she’s gonna do great at this mom thing, 'cause she is.” Gabe takes a breath. He wants it to steady him, but it fails. He’s leaving behind so much. “Tell her I’m sorry. Tell her I love her. I love her so much. She made my life so much better. Most importantly, tell her to live a life so full- it’s bursting at the seams.” 

“I will.” She swallows. The tears cascade down her cheeks as she pulls her pistol from the holster. It clicks. 

“We had a good run.” He looks up at her over the barrel. She falters. “It’s okay, Maria.” He nods until she nods along. He looks back down at the pictures in his hands. “I’m gonna be okay.”

It hangs in the air. He’s done talking. He’s said his final words. It’s up to her to make it quick. 

Maria closes her eyes. It has to be done. It’s her responsibility to Jackson, to keep people safe. Gabe wants you to be safe. Deep breaths in and out. Her eyes open. The bullet lands right between Gabe’s eyes. 

The shot rings in her ears the entire way back to Jackson. It’s a miracle no other infected come across her path. She’s a sitting duck, completely out of it. 

Tommy is waiting at the gate when she gets back. Everyone knows when they see the empty saddle. It’s dead silent as she enters back into the safety of Jackson’s tall walls. She hands the reins to Tommy. She sees is in his eyes too, the loss of a best friend, a brother. 

“Clinic or Home?”

He swallows. “Home.”

Maria nods moving in the direction of your home. People wave and say hello. She doesn’t respond or even process it. All she hears is the gunshot. Her vision is red with his blood on the snow, hazy with the smoke of his burning body. He couldn’t even have a proper burial. 

She lets herself into your house. She watches as your face falls, your legs crumple. Maria catches you holding you as you sob. She feels you slipping away and already, she’s broken her promise to Gabe. Maria’s not sure she’ll ever be able to bring you back.  

[turnipoddity]

i commented this on a fic recently but i just love alternate meeting chainshipping AUs sooo much. they DO work actually and they’re soulmates and they could’ve met without the bathroom i don’t care !!

anyway i’d love your thoughts/take on some silly way they’d cross paths in a jigsaw-less world :3

I’ve been reading that one fic where adam is lawrence’s wedding photographer inspired by @jykeebil ‘s art!!!! IM SOBBING AND I WAIT FOR THIS FIC PATIENTLY EVERYDAY

[warwickroyals]

Sunderland's Royal Jewel Vault (30/∞) ♛

↬ Queen Anne's Sunburst Tiara

Several of Queen Anne’s tiaras are recognizable, but her sunburst tiara might be in another league. Over the past 70 years, the tiara has been at the centre of two of Sunderland’s most famous royal weddings. The tiara is much newer than many would assume, commissioned by Queen Anne in 1939, it was made of diamonds gifted to Anne by Queen Alexandra on her wedding day. The tiara was initially meant to be a fringe tiara, once popular at the Russian Imperial court, but Anne insisted on a different profile; the royal family already had multiple fringe tiaras: Queen Caroline’s fringe tiara/necklace, Queen Matilda Mary’s Pearl fringe, and the City of Warwick fringe to name them. This new tiara, with its multiple spiked high points that resembled sunrays, was a unique addition. Over the decades tiara alternated between Anne and her daughter-in-law, Queen Katherine. Anne and Katherine rarely saw eye-to-eye but their like of the tiara was one thing they had in common. In 1968, both women agreed to loan the tiara to Lady Irene Wynn for her wedding to the Prince of Danforth, the future King Louis V. The tiara completed Irene’s romantic wedding look, with a commentator noting that the young bride looked as if she’d been “crowned by the sun”. Similar statements were made when Princess Jacqueline wore the tiara for her wedding to Lawrence Belmont almost thirty years later. Ever since, the tiara has been consistently listed as a likely bridal diadem by bookmakers—despite it not being donned by a royal bride since Princess Jacque’s nuptials. Today, the tiara remains in the possession of Queen Irene, who wears it once every blue moon. Perhaps a royal wedding is what’s needed for the sunburst tiara to be in the limelight again.

Queen Katherine wears the tiara for a 1959 promotional image. She infamously didn't like this photograph.

Queen Anne wears the tiara in the early 1970s, one of her last public appearances before her retirement and subsequent death.

[ace-and-the-rpg-horrors]

highly unrealistic and self-indulgent PJSK wedding event idea: Iori and Mio actually get married, and Leo/need are invited to the wedding- and so is Kohane's father, as the photographer.

Ichika, Saki and Kohane don't have wedding four/three stars yet, so two of the four stars and the three star would be them. Kaito could be the other four star but i've no clue about the two star.

the story would follow the wedding planning and the actual event itself. i think it would be sick if Iori and Mio decided to have an alternative style wedding, perhaps even having Leo/need- and Saku's band, anemone- perform during it? i could imagine them having really cool gothic outfits. and the fashion in the main characters' card art would also reflect that alternative style, rather than the one we see in canon.

i don't imagine Kohane would be at the actual wedding, but during the planning, she'd visit the venue with her dad and run into Leo/need and they'd have a grand time.

also because i'm silly about my Tono twins headcanon, Arata's there. he's just like "yeah, one of the brides (Iori) is my sis, lol" and Kohane's like. "oh, okay. interesting lore. anyway-"

[allwaswell16]

A fic rec of One Direction fics with a long distance relationship in an alternate universe as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

—Louis/Harry—

✈️ Darling, so it goes by @disgruntledkittenface

(E, 195k, Grace Kelly au) Harry Styles is a world-famous actor at the height of his career but a personal low point when he meets His Serene Highness Prince Louis of Monaco by chance. 

✈️ Hold You Now by solvetheminourdreams / @cursethedaylight

(M, 131k, ex-fwb) When he accompanies his best friend to a family wedding across the Atlantic, he'll be forced to reopen old wounds and face his past—one that no one wants to hash out, but may just have to.

✈️ Heading for Limbo by @kingsofeverything

(E, 100k, friends to lovers) When Harry discovers some life-changing things about himself, Louis is there for him, however he needs. But it’s all temporary because Louis has plans that will move his life from New York all the way to L.A. and the distance isn’t the only thing between them.

✈️ Old Photographs & Times I'll Remember by @jaerie

(E, 54k, time travel) A camera, a suitcase, and a relationship forged through time.

✈️ Without you it's a season I ain't needing by @perfectdagger

(M, 38k, fashion designer Harry) A long distance relationship au in which Harry is away for a year and Louis is left to pick up the pieces.

✈️ Up On The Shore by wordsnnotes / @quelsentiment

(M, 33k, Eroda) Louis hides his feelings under sarcasm, Harry is too sweet for his own sake, everyone is a rebel, the mums are amazing, Harry's dad is a jerk

✈️ wait up, i'm coming home by @hattalove

(T, 28k, Italy) the one where louis finds harry, then loses him, then finds him again. a flawless performance from fate featuring some penguins, some celestial bodies, and a whole lot of tea.

✈️ some things fade (some never do) by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

(T, 25k, magical tattoos) Three years after their break up, Harry calls.

✈️ Play (series) by @taggiecb

(E, 19k, famous/not famous) Right now he is working towards his before twenty five bucket list, and fate must have been smiling on him the day he won tickets for a show at Wembly, getting into one of the locker rooms is something he will have to think about later.

✈️ You're A Universe by Jiksa / @jiksax

(E, 15k, kid fic) Louis’s a stay-at-home dad in London and Harry’s a business expat in Qatar. Louis doesn’t know how much longer their marriage can survive the distance.

✈️ Paper Houses by @allwaswell16

(E, 11k, famous/famous au) When model Louis Tomlinson admits to having a celebrity crush on a very famous actor in an article in GQ magazine, he has no idea it will lead to anything.

✈️ Baby, I'm Right Here by @fallinglikethis

(E, 8k, drunken confessions) Harry and Louis are best friends who live on different continents and may or may not be in love with each other.

✈️ What Goes Up by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(NR, 5k, space) The six month program at the space station means a very long distance relationship and a very nervous Harry back on earth.

✈️ Talk the Night Through by @lululawrence

(NR, 4k, chat rooms) It's 1995 and a chat room is the last place Harry ever expects to find the love of his life.

✈️ With All My Surrendered Hearts by softandslow

(E, 4k, pwp) the one where they're long distance boyfriends, and Louis rides Harry while wearing his snapback.

✈️ Follow the sun by momentofclarity / @gaycousinlarry

(T, 3k, light angst) Louis feels like last night’s Skype call changed something though, even if the emotional distress is pretty common during their talks. 

✈️ It's All Mixed Up! by orphan_account

(G, 2k, deck officer Louis) 4 times Louis' crew mates get sick of hearing about his "girl" and the one time when they finally meet the mystery lover.

✈️ until you’re home by @nouies

(E, 1k, pwp) Louis lives in London, Harry lives in Tokyo. They make it work.

✈️ Looking for Life Out There by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

(T, 1k, girl direction) Doctoral candidate Harry Styles moves to Boston to complete her Ph.D. leaving her professor girlfriend behind in London.

—Rare Pairs—

✈️ The New Posh and Becks by mistresscurvy

(E, 28k, Liam/Louis) 2016 is a big year for solo artist Liam Payne. After his amazing experience on X Factor, releasing his own album and touring with Little Mix seems like the height of success. Then he meets Arsenal midfielder Louis Tomlinson at a charity event, and suddenly everything else fades into the background.

✈️ Oceans and waves and wires between us by becka

(E, 8k, Niall/Zayn) Niall wants to meet his online girlfriend, Veronica, and enlists the help of MTV's Catfish to do it.

[kisslovegoodbye]

Shuhada' Sadaqat (8 December 1966 – 26 July 2023)

Sinéad O'Connor is widely regarded as one of the most influential female performers of the 90s, not only for her sensational performances and raw vocal emotion but also for her outspoken confidence to express herself publicly.

Sinéad was born in Dublin in 1966, and was discovered by Paul Byrne, drummer of U2 protégés In Tua Nua, while singing wedding covers in the city. After co-writing the first In Tua Nua single, she left school to focus on music, studying voice and piano at the Dublin College of Music. She relocated to London in 1985.

Her debut album, The Lion and the Cobra produced two alternative hits ‘Troy’ and ���Mandinka’ and would go on to be one of 1987’s most critically acclaimed LPs. Follow up, 1990’s I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got confirmed her as a major artist with the Prince-written Nothing Compares 2 U reaching number 1 in the UK, the US and globally.

A series of public gestures have tended to interrupt the critical focus on O’Connor’s artistry including her infamous performance on SNL where she ripped up a photograph of Pope John Paul II. However, Sinéad’s ability to move through Pop, Rock, Folk, Reggae and incorporate multiple influences into her complex and powerful sound is in evidence all throughout her now three-decade long career.

Her death comes a year after the mother-of-four's son Shane, 17, took his own life in January 2022 after escaping hospital while on suicide watch. 

Farewell, beloved one...

[redrose10]

And here is the second alternate ending that I had planned. There’s still a lot of angst, but nothing too serious. Again pretend that chapter 17 and the proposal never happened and the story left off with Suri getting arrested and Mia coming back. As always comments and messages welcome!

Warnings: Swearing, hints of smut, cheating

Word Count: 1,380

“Here, have another cup of water.”, Jimin said handing you a glass. You shook your head, “No then I’ll have to pee again and it’ll take another 30 minutes to get this dress off of me.” He chuckled before setting the glass down.

“You do look really beautiful Y/N.”, he whispered while standing behind you as you gave yourself one more look over in the mirror.

“Thank you Jimin.”

“You ready to go get married?”, he asked sticking his arm out for you to grab onto.

Nodding you took hold of him and followed him out. You grabbed your bouquet, a beautiful mix of blue hydrangeas and tiger lilies. You didn’t know how the florist managed to get them to work together so well, but it was breathtaking.

Standing in front of the large double doors you took one final breath before nodding to give the signal that you were ready.

The doors swung open and you were greeted by hundreds of smiling faces. As you walked down the aisle you made eye contact with your soon to be husband, Jungkook who was standing at the alter. His best friend Mingyu moved to pat him on the back and congratulate him. Jungkook smiled at you before quickly wiping away a tear. You smirked hoping the photographer caught that because you knew he would definitely deny he was crying when you teased him about it later.

Reaching the alter you handed off your bouquet to the maid of honor before taking Jungkook’s hands in yours. As the officiant went on you were trying to focus on the wedding, but out of the corner of your eye something or someone grabbed your attention. Even without him coming into full view you knew who it was. You were completely shocked that he even showed up. Especially considering the fight that had happened between him and Jungkook a couple years ago.

You thought back to that day. You had stopped by Yoongi’s office to surprise him with some dinner after he said he was going to have to work late. Instead of finding him hard at work you found his ex Mia, naked on his desk with him pounding into her as he moaned her name. When you dropped the bags of food and gasped it caught his attention enough for him to stop, but you were already running towards the elevators. Yoongi chased after you begging for you to wait and listen all while he was still trying to stuff himself back in his pants. You refused and instead managed to escape when Yoongi’s father came to check what all the commotion was about.

You spent the evening at Jimins being comforted by him and his new roommate, Jungkook. After Jimin left to pick up some food you were cuddled into Jungkook, his soft voice combined with his lavender scented lotion helping you fall asleep after crying your eyes out when Yoongi let himself in the apartment.

You don’t remember much of what happened, but an argument ensued with Jungkook calling Yoongi every name in the book. Yoongi had the audacity to call you a whore for running right into Jungkook’s arms and made sure to call Jungkook a fuckboy who only wanted to get in your pants. Before you could even give him piece of your mind yourself you watched Jungkook’s fist connect with the side of Yoongi’s face knocking him back a couple feet.

Thankfully after much begging and pleading Yoongi didn’t press charges, but he did fire Jungkook. With him being unemployed and you living with Jimin full time the two of you became very close. Jimin referred to you two as his little freeloaders in love.

Yoongi quickly demanded a divorce. He claimed he was in love with Mia and that you and him were done. You don’t know why he was acting so harsh all of a sudden, but you didn’t care enough to ask. At first his parents denied his request, but ultimately gave in when he threatened to release all of the Min family���s deepest and darkest secrets to the public. He gave you a nice little settlement, but barely acknowledged you otherwise.

And here you are, about to be married to a man who makes you 100 times happier than Yoongi ever did. You couldn’t describe how incredible he made you feel and how he helped you get over the pain from your prior marriage. Jungkook showed you what true love looks like. He bought you flowers just because or he’d bring you home a cupcake just because it had lots of sprinkles. Instead of spending his nights after work drinking and hooking up with other women he’d come home and help you cook dinner before teaching you how to play video games or watching a movie together. You never questioned his loyalty or your future with him. And with each one of his vows as he read them it felt like he was putting a bandaid on one of the holes in your heart.

Before you knew it you were asked to share your first kiss as husband and wife. The crowd cheered as Jungkook leaned you back making a showing of the kiss.

As you turned to walk down the aisle together you got your first good look at him. It was the first time you’d seen him in person in a long time. You’d heard about him. Jimin would give you little bits of information here and there. Yoongi and Mia hadn’t lasted more than three months before she left him again and he’d pretty much given up after that. He turned back to heavy drinking and partying. Actually getting a woman pregnant for real this time, but he was blasted as an absent father. His own father had no choice but to remove him as CEO before publicly calling him an embarrassment to the family.

He had called you shortly after news of your engagement broke. You didn’t answer. In his voicemail he said he was happy for you. You didn’t believe him. He said he was sorry for everything. You definitely didn’t believe him. He said he demanded the divorce because he knew you never would and he didn’t want to hurt you any more. He wanted you to be free. He asked if he could come to your wedding. You sent him an invitation more out of spite than anything. You figured he was drunk when he had called you and you thought there was no way sober Yoongi would ever consider coming to your wedding. He did though.

He looked thinner. And pale. You couldn’t believe how somber he looked. Jungkook thankfully didn’t notice him or at least he pretended not to as he pulled you down the aisle towards the double doors drawing your attention away.

You were quickly ushered into the back of a limousine to be taken to your next destination as the crowd of wedding guests trickled out of the venue to see you off. The car began to slowly drive away giving you the chance to wave goodbye when he caught your eye once again.

He gave you a tight lipped smile before falling back into the crowd and out of view.

Jungkook cleared his throat next to you, “I’m glad he’s here.”

Really? Why?!,” you asked in shock.

“I hope it hurts him to finally see you be happier than you ever could with him.”

Later that night after all the festivities were over and Jungkook was asleep next to you the vibration of your phone on the table pulled you out of bed. The screen lit up with a text from Yoongi.

“You looked beautiful Y/N. I wish the best for you both. Maybe in another life I would’ve had my shit together and you and I would’ve been happy.”

You thought for a moment on how to respond, if at all, but deciding on sending a quick message,

“Thank you Yoongi. I hope that one day you can find happiness too. Take care of yourself.”

Taking a few more seconds you blocked his number before shutting down your phone and tucking it away. Once back in bed Jungkook reached over and pulled you flush against him before kissing your neck.

“I love you.”, he whispered as you snuggled in closer finally feeling the love you always had longed for.

[highqueenofelfhame]

rowaelin // 5.8k words // masterlist // ciwyw masterlist let me know if you want to be tagged in my writing :) i hope you enjoy <3 i can't wait to see all your comments. y'all are kILLING me with them on this one.

As much as he knew he shouldn’t be, Rowan was drunk. Again. 

Tomorrow they had a match against Adarlan on Doranelle’s home field. While Rowan laid on his back,  staring at the ceiling fan above him with a full half-empty bottle of whiskey resting on his stomach, he knew they were going to lose. Not because Adarlan was better or because they wanted it more, but because Rowan was a selfish piece of shit and couldn’t put the bottle down. There was no way he would be in any condition to play tomorrow— at least not well. 

Burying his sorrows at the bottom of the bottle seemed like the better alternative until he could figure out how to repair what he had catastrophically obliterated. It had been a full week with no word from Aelin. Not a single one of those days had passed without him sending an apology text into the void. There had even been a few voicemails Wednesday night that went unanswered. He wouldn’t be surprised if she was erasing them without bothering to listen. He deserved that much. 

Rowan Whitethorn had never had social media. Ever. Not even in high school when it was just becoming a cool thing to do. Nobody needed to know that much about his life. At this point in his career, his agent and PR team begged him to do it because it would garner him more popularity. Even Lorcan posted on instagram from time to time and kept everyone happy. 

The thing that finally drove Rowan to making an instagram account was stalking Aelin Ashryver Galathynius. It was easier for his thumbs to scroll through her feed while nursing sips of whiskey, trying not to double tap on any pictures. He was pathetic enough— Aelin didn’t need to be aware of his sulking and pining. 

This all came after he googled her name paired with various words like ‘spouse,’ ‘husband,’ ‘wife,’ and ‘wedding.’ Nothing came back with a result, but it had been lurking in his mind when she didn’t answer his question earlier. Besides, Rhoe Galathynius very well could have been her father-in-law. As it were, she wasn’t married, and Evalin and Rhoe only had one child: their daughter. At least if she was married, there was no record of it. No photos of her in an elegant white gown standing next to the love of her life. 

Good. He could deal with that. 

What he couldn’t deal with was the photos of her in bikinis, arms wrapped around the waists of other men. She was nestled between the pair on the deck of a yacht all three of them with wide smiles and sunglasses covering their eyes. Her bathing suit looked more like lingerie and Rowan had never wished so hard for summer to come back around than he was right then. 

There were pictures of her with a stunning brunette woman, both of them dressed in finery or night-out attire depending on where they were headed. Aelin with a full face of makeup, with sultry dark eyes and a full pouty lip was enough to drive him into madness. 

He found photographs from holidays with her family, Aelin perched on a couch in comfy clothes and thick socks with Aedion Ashryver standing behind her. Further down her page he found the ones from years ago of her on Aedion’s shoulders after he won some match or another. It was captions Always my hero. 

Lower and lower he went until he finally hit her first post: a simple kingsflame flower from nine years ago with the caption Fireheart. He supposed that was where she garnered the name for her foundation. Gods above, she was incredible. A super-hero amongst ordinary women. 

Rowan scrolled back towards the top of her instagram, all the way back to the most recent one. It was from their day downtown, when they had bought a piece of chocolate hazelnut cake and sat outside the bakery. Aelin was laughing around her thumb that she held between her teeth. At that moment, he had been teasing her about getting the frosting everywhere. Behind the camera he was smiling just as brilliantly as she was. The light in her eyes, her smile, the utter joy that radiated off of her… It was enough to make him breathless all over again. 

“Fuck,” he murmured to himself, heart squeezing and soul dying at how absurdly beautiful she was. It didn’t seem fair. Everything about her was perfect. Not just outside, but inside, too.  Aelin Galathynius was the most selfless and loving person he had ever met. Inside and out, she shone with the light of a thousand suns. It made it impossible to look away and broke his heart that he had driven her away so sharply.

“M’such a bloody dobber,” he mumbled, zooming in on her face as close as it would get, until she was little more than a monochromatic cluster of pixels, none of her features distinguishable. 

The phone fumbled where he held it over his face, falling directly onto it. Rowan swore, the taste of metal blooming over his tongue where his tooth had cut through his lip. Worse than that, though, was when he noticed the giant heart that appeared in the center of the picture he’d been staring at. 

Rowan had accidentally liked it. Just as quickly, he unliked it and tossed his phone to the other end of the couch. Jail. He needed to be in phone jail. 

It had over ten thousand likes and three hundred comments. There was a chance she would never notice the notification appearing and disappearing. She might never notice. It didn’t stop the ice creeping into his veins, though. The idea that she would realize how utterly pathetic he was, as if all the texts weren’t indication enough. 

Rowan swore violently under his breath and grabbed his phone again. With bleary, bloodshot eyes he opened their text thread to send off another message. Just as his fingers started their drunken dance over the letters once again, his phone began to ring loudly. The vibration shook him to his core as he beheld the name flashing on his screen, a photo of the two of them laying on her couch flashing in front of him. The sight of it knocked the wind out of him. 

Aelin. 

Fuck. Shit. Mala fucking fry him. 

“Hello?” he said, breathless like he’d been running a marathon. 

“Hi.” Aelin’s voice was quiet. Rowan could imagine her sitting in the middle of her couch, a tv show paused. 

“I am so sorry, baby,” he began, letters and syllables stringing together with no space between. “I need to explain, to—”

“Did you just like that picture on my instagram?”

“I…” it was long and drawn out as he squinted at the ceiling, trying to find a way out of it. There wasn’t one. Heat crept up his neck and bloomed over his cheeks like rose petals. “Ye-yeah. That was me.”

“Are you drunk?” was her follow up question. On the other end of the phone it sounded like she was rolling over in bed. Gods, he would love to be wrapped up in bed with her. The expanse of her golden skin under his hands wasn’t beat out by anything, not even football. 

“No,” was his quick response. 

“You sound drunk.” It was impossible to tell what, exactly, her emotions were. Rowan swallowed thickly, setting the bottle on the coffee table and nudging it out of reach. 

“I sound like a pathetic bastard that ruined something perfect.” 

“You’re definitely drunk.” If Rowan wasn’t positive that she hated him, he might mistake her tone as amusement. 

“I miss you. And I’m sorry,” he paused to hiccup, “And I want you to tell me what to do to fix what I’ve broken.” A heavy, resigned sigh came through the phone and Rowan froze.

“Start with sobering up–” Fuck. She was going to hang up, and he had blown his only chance at making things right. Shit.

“Don’t hang up,” Rowan pleaded, lip tucking between his bottom teeth while he waited for her to respond. 

“Get some sleep and win your game tomorrow. After that… maybe we can talk.” If that was what it took, then yes. A thousand times yes he would do both of those things. Anything to get her to talk to him, anything so he could hold her, feel her lips on his skin, taste her and feel her beneath him.

“Do you promise?” A schoolyard thing to say, but he couldn’t help it. The gift of hearing her voice again after an entire week of deafening silence was the most beautiful thing he could ever imagine hearing. If he could, he’d bottle it up and get drunk off it. It was better than any alcohol, any drug. 

“I promise,” she replied, and Rowan swore he heard a hint of laughter weaving between each letter of those two, simple words. That couldn’t be right, though. Aelin was mad at him. They wouldn’t be laughing together anytime soon.

“Okay.” It felt stupid to say, but it was the only word he could find. 

“Okay.” Aelin’s voice was still soft and told him nothing of the status of his forgiveness, or if he needed to beg on his knees and worship her as penance. He would never, ever stop if that was what she required. “Goodnight, Rowan.” 

The line went dead before he could say anything else and a new zap of determination electrified his blood. If she wanted a win, she would get it. But he had to get sober first. 

With a pained groan, he pulled himself upright. A few deep breaths later the room wasn’t spinning quite so quickly and he was able to stumble to the kitchen. The smell of coffee made his nose wrinkle when he opened the bag. It quickly filled the space of the kitchen as he dumped the beans into the grinder, wincing at the shriek it made. Coffee and bread would help sober him up, and then he would focus on fluid intake to not be a useless sack of meat on the field tomorrow. 

He leaned against his counter, ignoring incoming messages from his teammates checking on him, and shoved half a piece of bread into his mouth. A cold shower would wake him up, and tons of water and painkillers before bed would help the hangover tomorrow. 

Anything Aelin wanted, he would give her. Starting tomorrow night by defeating the Adarlan Wyverns and handing it to her on a silver platter. 

When he finally drifted off to sleep, his phone screen was still illuminated in his palm: that final photo he’d taken of her at the bakery wearing a smile just for him. 

~*~

As soon as she took one step into the Neon Moon, she found Connall looking over at her with a healthy dose of surprise in his eyes. Aelin moved through the crowd that had gathered to watch the game, managing to snag a single barstool in front of the beer tap. 

“Water, please,” she half-shouted over the loud voices filling the room. As soon as it was in her hands she took a long drink before placing it down on a napkin in front of her. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself.” A crooked grin spread across his face and he leaned forward on his forearms. “Watching the game?” 

“Against my better judgment,” she sighed, ruffling her fingers through her hair. Now that she knew that he played for Doranelle, she just couldn’t miss it. Had she known from the get-go, there wouldn’t have been a single game that she missed. Even if it meant she’d be catching up on work during the short commercial breaks. “How much do you know?”

“Oh just… everything.” 

Aelin groaned and looked up at the ceiling. She wasn’t upset that he’d told his friends, his support system. Rowan needed that, just like she did. Though she had yet to tell her family, she was going to do it soon. Maybe tomorrow or the day after. Some of the dust had to settle with Rowan first. 

Though she was content to let him stew for a few more days, the single like she’d gotten from an account called actuallywhitethorn made her pick up the phone. A result of her doom-scrolling before bed, the notification had dropped from the top of her screen. By the time she clicked her notification icon, that particular like from that specific account was gone. It was like fate, she decided, for her to have seen it in its brevity. If he was miserable and pining enough to accidentally like an instagram picture, it wouldn’t hurt to call him. So she did.

At first, she didn’t know what to say, but as he talked it became more and more clear that he was very drunk. All his words had melded into one long syllable, and the fact that he was likely drinking away his feelings and problems had tugged at her heart. He really was adorable when he was drunk, calling her baby and trying his hardest to apologize, begging her not to hang up the phone. As much as she really did want to talk to him, it wasn’t a conversation to have while he was only half-aware. The apology she deserved needed to come from his sober lips, not drunk, loose ones.

After they hung up, Aelin had decided she would go to the bar to watch the game. It didn’t seem like a feat she could conquer at home alone on her couch. Even with Lysandra a phone call away, it felt too big to do on her own. The bar made sense.

“Congratulations?” Connall offered, and it was the first time she’d really picked up on any shyness or hesitancy from the man. 

“Thank you.” It was still so new, so foreign. The racing of her thoughts hadn’t died down about it yet, her emotions didn’t have a full grasp on the situation. “How is he?”

“I think you already know the answer to that.” Kind of. If his texts were any inclination to his mental state, he was having a rough go of things at the moment. “Feels like a piece of shite.”

“Yeah, well.” That was a little deserved after what he’d said to her. Connall didn’t seem to disagree, merely shrugging as he followed her eyes to the television.

The game had been on for fifteen minutes, and Doranelle had scored one point. Adarlan had nothing. It was a bit of a feat to score so early on in the game, showing just how skilled Rowan and his teammates were. A camera zoomed in on the players, a towering, dark-haired man with a glove tucked under his arm, using the bottom of his shirt to wipe his face. Aelin’s eyes widened and her head whipped toward Connall when the spitting image of him appeared on the screen. The only difference was the color of the curls: Connall’s were black, his brother’s golden. 

“You have a twin?” By way of answer, Connall merely winked and nodded back at the TV where Rowan had come into view. His uniform for home games was navy blue with white letters. Hands braced on his hips, he joined his teammates where they talked. It was only when he turned around that she saw how horrible he looked. 

Though his skin was golden brown as ever, his face was ashen. Dark circles clung beneath his eyes and his bottom lip was swollen and scabbed over. The sweat gathering at his temples didn’t do anything at all to make him look well, if anything he just looked sicker. 

“Whitethorn looks a bit… peaky,” Connall said cautiously, the corners of his lips tugging downward into a scowl.

“As drunk as he was when I called him last night, that makes perfect sense.” She was frowning, too. The most put together part of him was his hair, the single french braid down the center until it all met in a mess of a bun on the top of his head. 

As soon as the whistle blew, he inhaled and exhaled a deep breath. That was when the cameras zoomed back out to take in the entire field, all the players getting into position. Aelin watched closely, one eye on the ball and the other always aware of where Rowan was in the frame.

For a while, it was a lot of passing back and forth, working up and down the field, the ball getting stolen one way or the other. Once, Adarlan got close to scoring but the goalie for Doranelle was quick to block it and pass it back down the field. Another of Rowan’s teammates was quick to get it back toward the Adarlan goal. It was passed back and forth between a few as they worked further and further down the pitch until a pass from Connall’s twin had the ball being juggled between Rowan’s feet.

Watching Rowan play brought back the old feelings she felt watching Aedion. Her competitive temper rose in her chest as he sprinted downfield with the ball between his feet. Somehow, he never tripped or stumbled. When he passed it off to a dark-haired man, Vaughan, Connall told her, it was with tricky footwork that he made look easy. Seconds later and a single pass back toward him, Rowan lunged from behind a crimson jersey. By some grace of the gods he managed to land the perfect kick that arched beautifully through the air. Adarlan’s goalie missed it by a fingertip.

The bar became deafening– some of them rooting for Doranelle, others wanting them to lose for the sake of Varese’s team. On the TV, Rowan’s teammates pulled him off the ground and jostled him amongst them, Connall’s golden-haired brother smacking a kiss to Rowan’s sweaty forehead. 

If Aelin didn’t know any better, she would say his teammates were being a little more gentle with him than they might be otherwise. Rowan’s jaw remained clenched tightly, that muscle feathering as he nodded to the only person on the team that was taller than him where he stood down the field.

“Who is their goalie?”

“Lorcan Salvaterre. Team captain and one of Rowan’s closest friends. My twin’s name is Fenrys.” Aelin nodded and rested her chin on her hands as the next play started, polished blue nails digging into her palms. She knew of most of these names from Aedion’s soccer days and the afternoons at her parents house where her father prattled on about different team rosters.

The minutes ticked by, Rowan fiercely focused on the game. That look of sheer determination never left his eyes, even in the brief moments of reprieve he had to gather his wits. Whenever he could, Connall hovered near her for the moral support she’d come in search of. It meant more to her than she could ever put into words. Being in a new city, far away from her support system, with no one else to lean on? It was really nice to know he was there. Even if they barely knew each other. 

When Adarlan scored, Aelin had over half the pub groaned. The Doranelle players looked beyond pissed. Rowan and Lorcan shared matching expressions, both of their jaws grinding as they shook their heads before getting back into position. 

It led them into more volleying back and forth, the ball little more than a blur between feet. And then it was back in Rowan’s possession. It was like the wind sang for him, pushing him faster as he bolted down the field. Almost as soon as he made his goal, the one that would get them a point ahead though, a whistle blew and a yellow-checkered flag was waving. 

“Shit,” she murmured, closely eyeing the playback. It was a fair call, he had been offside. When the camera showed Rowan again though, he was pointed at the goal, mouth wrapping around words that looked a lot like fucking bullshit. The words weren’t more than a whisper as she said, “Rowan, you stupid idiot.”

Connall chuckled, despite the dire situation at hand. She knew he was only laughing at her, not his friend’s situation. Still, she wadded up a napkin and threw it at his head. It nailed him in the temple.

“It’s not funny,” she hissed, nibbling on the end of her straw, a sick feeling roiling in her gut.

The referee pulled a yellow card brandishing it in front of his face. A spark of anger flickered behind his eyes, mouth opening to spew something else when Fenrys grabbed him by the shoulders and made him turn away. Aelin exhaled a tight breath as Rowan shook his head on screen. Fenrys said something in Rowan’s ear and he nodded, lips thin in a stiff line.. It was enough to make him nod and hustle to his spot on the field, shaking his arms out when he came to a stop.  

Beneath the bar, Aelin’s legs were bouncing. Butterflies flitted their way through her insides enough that she braced her hands against her stomach as though it would calm them. It was impossible to look away as Adarlan took their free kick from the offside, launching the ball halfway down the field and into another frustrating back and forth between the two teams. 

This was always the part of the sport that Aelin hated. No, perhaps hated was too strong of a word. The build up always made her feel nauseous, waiting for one team to make one quick move to kick everyone into high gear to avoid a goal or make one. Being pregnant, it was worse. It felt as though her stomach was in the back of her throat.

Just before the end of the second half, disaster struck. Aelin saw it coming. She was pretty sure everyone watching at home or in the stands did, too. Connall swore filthily as Rowan ran for the ball and dove feet first to knock it away from Adarlan. Except in the process, his cleats clashed into the other player’s feet and they both went down in a heap on the field. 

“What the fuck did you say to him?” Connall asked over his shoulder, never taking his eyes off the screen as a ref jogged across the pitch. 

“I told him to win and maybe we would talk! I didn’t tell him to–” A yellow card appeared in the ref’s hand, followed by a red one and Aelin lost all of her words. Both were for Rowan. 

“I think he took that a little too do or die.” And so it seemed he had.

Distantly, she heard the announcer saying it was the first time he’d ever been red carded in his entire career. The patron’s of the bar murmured amongst themselves, many of them asking what the hell was wrong with Whitethorn tonight. 

The cameras zoomed in to where he walked off the field, sweat trickling down his face. Their coach followed him to the end of the field, the words he muttered only for Rowan to hear. Though he looked ready to hit anyone that was close enough, Rowan simply nodded. Fenrys caught his arm just before he walked off, mouth moving too quickly for Aelin to decipher. 

The last clear shot of him was walking into the tunnel and off the pitch, body rigid and muscles rippling while he pulled his jersey off his body. 

“I… I need to go,” Aelin said to Connall, who only nodded in response. She threw a few bills on the counter as a thank you and pushed her way out of the pub, walking as fast as her feet would carry her to her rental car down the street. 

~*~

Even though his team had another win under their belt by the time the game was over, it had been a fucking disaster. Rowan watched the second half on his phone from the comfort of his car after getting kicked out. 

It was the first time in his eleven year career he’d ever received two yellow cards, and consequently a red card, and been ejected from a game. All that anger and frustration from the week, from his hangover, had boiled to a head and exploded on the field. Next week he would have to sit out, too. 

Failing his teammates didn’t sit right with him. Lorcan was probably fuming and Rowan anticipated a less than friendly visit from him tomorrow. Coach Malakai was mad, too. The last thing he told Rowan was to get his shit together before practice on Monday. Only Fenrys, who never missed a chance to be a jokester about anything, had murmured words of encouragement before he left the field. 

By the time he pulled into his driveway, he was exhausted. His entire body ached from that last dive. There would definitely be bruises on his hips and thighs tomorrow from the way Ress Taylor landed on top of him. All he wanted to do was let his muscles thaw under a shower so hot it burned. A glass of whiskey would be great, too. Not that he deserved it after his performance on the pitch.

The game was… rough.The entire day was rough. From the time he’d woken up his mood had been in the pits of hell. Drunk Rowan hadn’t been able to piece together what Aelin said just before they hung up, but sober Rowan did as soon as his alarm sounded. 

Win your game tomorrow. 

Not win the game, like she used to say when she thought he was the coach. She didn’t ask him to wish the boys good luck like she had in the weeks prior. The words had changed. Win your game. The game he would be playing in, that belonged to him. She had given him a personal goal and though he helped his team achieve it, he still felt like he failed. Especially since he would have to sit out next week, too, because of the red card.

It had been stupid of him to think she wouldn’t find out the truth before he had the chance to tell her. Everything had just gone to such absolute shit before he had the chance. Rowan Whitethorn would be groveling at the feet of Aelin Galathynius for the duration of his life, and then some more after he crossed into whatever afterworld awaited him. 

The news of his career was just another lie he had to make right. All day it sat with him, festering like an open wound. It wasn’t that he suddenly felt bitter about his job. He didn’t. Rowan loved what he did, he loved the sport. It was his greatest passion and love in life. But Aelin deserved to hear about it from him. Not knowing how she found out only made it worse, until everything he felt was bleeding out into the astroturf beneath his feet and getting him thrown out of a game.

Upon pulling into his driveway, something white in front of his house caught his eye. His heart came to a stop as soon as his car did. Rowan didn’t even bother to pull into his garage, just parked beside the white SUV and stared at his porch. It felt like a fever dream, getting home from a hard game and seeing Aelin on his porch swing. The wind slowly moved her back and forth, but when she saw him step out of the car she stood, hands sliding into her back pockets. 

“I told you to win, not get a red card before the second half was up.” The lilting tone of her voice made his knees buckle. It forced him to gather himself before approaching, slowly walking up the stairs until he stood one below her.

“My mouth keeps getting me in trouble this week, it seems,” he said back, mouth completely dry. It was an effort to make his tongue form the words with his lips. “But it got you to my house, so I suppose there are worse things that could have happened.”

“Few things are worse than a red card.”

“Not talking to you might beat out all of them,” he said smoothly, fingers sliding along each of his keys until he found the one for his front door. He held it up between two fingers and Aelin nodded, stepping to the side and gesturing toward the door. 

She wore simple leggings and an oversized t-shirt, a pair of socks and slides on her feet. Though she wore no makeup and her hair was twisted half-hazardly onto the top of her head, she had never looked so beautiful. Lorcan would laugh himself hoarse if he heard the thoughts Rowan had about this woman, yet he didn’t care. Even in her most dressed down and casual state, she was breathtaking. 

He led her inside, locking the door behind them. It was late enough he assumed she would be staying for a while. Few people made a nearly two hour drive to turn around and leave upon arrival. Then again, he hadn’t seen last weekend going that way, either, and it’s exactly how that night ended.

“You played…”

“Shittily,” he offered, hanging his keys on a small hook by the front door.

“Brutally,” Aelin amended, slipping off her shoes and heading to the kitchen. Rowan watched as she grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge and handed one off to him before heading for the couch. “Have you eaten?” 

“No. Have you?”

“Not since lunch.” Phone in hand, she curled up in the corner and pulled a blanket over her lap. “I doubt we have any notable options, but Taco Bell is open and is shockingly one of the few things not making me sick at the moment.”

Rowan watched her from where he stood in the center of the room. It didn’t feel real. None of today did, really. It could be the hangover talking, but the day felt like a horrible dream. He was scared to move, scared that if he sat on the couch with her that she would vanish into nothing and he would wake up alone in his bed. 

“Are you going to just stand there all night?” Her eyes didn’t leave her phone while presumably selecting everything she wanted to eat, eyes narrowing at the screen briefly in thought. A moment later she held it out for him. Rowan stared at her, heart thundering away in his chest. “Rowan.”

“Right. Thank you,” he murmured, taking the phone and trying not to acknowledge the rush he felt when his fingertips grazed her palm. Not big on fast food most of the time, it took him a little longer to pick his dinner. “What do I owe you?”

Aelin just snorted as she submitted the order, eyes rolling slightly before placing her phone face down on the couch next to her, head tilting as she said, “Come to think of it, maybe you do. I think your twenty dollar fast food order might do me in completely. I’ll have to take out a loan.” 

“I can Venmo it,” Rowan said dumbly, reaching for the phone in his back pocket.

“I don’t need your money any more than you need mine.” Once there might have been a teasing edge to her voice. Her delivery was much drier than he was used to from her. But there it was. That stupid thing he’d said before he could stop himself, the words that brought everything they were building crashing down.

“Sit,” she told him, patting the cushion next to her. Rowan was careful to leave plenty of space between them. There were definitely lines and boundaries now. The risk of getting ensnared in one was too great and he had a lot of apologies to make. With his arms elbows braced on his knees and hands clasped loosely between them, he stared at the floor. 

“You’re actually getting a pretty sweet deal.” Aelin sighed, shifting so she was facing him full on. His green eyes didn’t leave the rug. “According to google my net worth is two-and-a-half times what yours is. Isn’t that crazy?”

“I didn’t know,” he finally said. As much as he wanted to look at her, he couldn’t. He was a fucking coward. Guilt was a disgusting, oily thing crawling beneath his skin. It threatened to consume him whole even worse now that he was talking to her than it had the rest of the week. 

Aelin sighed again, finally pulling his attention to her face. She laid her head back against the sofa and a few tendrils of hair fell down to frame her face.  Rowan’s fingers curled into fists to fight the urge to sweep them behind her ear. She must have sensed it because she did it herself. The blue of her fingernails was the same blue as his jersey. Part of him wondered if it had been on purpose. 

“I think tonight we can call a truce.” Aelin seemed to notice his gaze on her fingers because she folded her arms over her chest, curling her hands so her blue nails were hidden. “We’ll eat, sleep, and then tomorrow… Tomorrow we’ll talk.”

“Okay,” he agreed. The word was falling off his tongue as soon as she finished speaking. Her cheeks seemed to twitch with amusement, and if he had reacted differently last week she would probably be smiling. 

“I am curious, though. Did you make an instagram for the sole purpose of stalking me?” 

Rowan cringed. His eyes squeezed shut, lips rolling between his teeth as he looked away. Beside him it sounded like Aelin laughing, though it was little more than puffs of air coming out of her nose. It would have been easy to go on the defensive, to add one more lie to their crumpled house of cards. Instead, he went with the truth.

“I missed you. I just wanted to see your face.” He looked back over at her then, but it was she who looked away now. Her eyes were glassy, the dim lighting making the unshed tears in her eyes sparkle. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

“It’s these fucking hormones.” She dismissed him with a wave of her hand when he started to reach for her. It stung more than he would ever let on, but he retreated and dropped his hand into his lap while she used the collar of her shirt to dry her eyes. 

It was silent after that, the two of them alternating from staring at nothing to sneaking glances at the other. Rowan only knew because he caught her staring at him more than once when he thought he could take a second to drink her in. It was only when the doorbell finally rang and he stood that she said his name, stopping him when he was halfway to the front door. Turning to look at her, eyebrows raised in question, he watched her lick her lips. 

“I missed you, too.” It was barely a whisper, spoken so softly he might have dreamed it if he was any more tired. 

Still, it was enough to get him through the rest of their silent night. Enough that it didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would when he insisted she sleep in his bed without him. Enough to chase him with sweet dreams when he finally slipped into the guest room down the hall and tumbled into a deep sleep. 

@elentiyawhitethorn @autumnbabylon @fancysludgeshoelamp  @wordsafterhours @live-the-fangirl-life @the-hospitality-of-knives @tangledraysofsunshine @readandlisten @westofmoon @rowanaelinn  @morganofthewildfire @writtenonreceipts @feynightlight @emster1622-blog @scarblx @thefaetrove @loveyatopluto @actuallybarb @peppermint-fae @the-devils-own @scottmcgivemeacall @livingmylifeforme  @wordsafterhours @foreverfallingforthestars @llyncooljones @emily-gsh @loosesimplicity @emilyrose111294  @charlizeed @aelinchocolatelover @cretaceous-therapod @sayosdreams @fireheart-violet @the-regal-warrior @backtobl4ck @shyvioletcat @mariamuses

[shiroikabocha]

a few pics. More coming later once our photographer gets them all prettified and cropped and whatnot

I love this shot my dad got! We had a traditional Klingon ceremony, so you can see our friends and family preparing to beat us with pool noodles (sadly, the venue did not allow us to use real bat’leths or ma’stakas) during our first dance. The faces are blurred for privacy, but everyone is smiling and nobody looks weird!

Non-Homestuck’d guests found alternative ways to participate in the weeblord-dorkhat color theme of the evening. This image was posted to our D&D group chat without comment during dinner and it delighted me

this is not a pic of the wedding but it IS a picture of my wedding dress, which I am putting into the washing machine because it’s machine-washable. this is, to me, an image representing Supreme Victory

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Alpha, Beta (& Omega)"

Rated: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Teen

Word Count:

Pairing: Steve x Bucky

Tags: a/b/o, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, nobility/royalty au, alternate history, dom/sub elements, beta bucky, hurt/comfort, age gap, domestic discipline, spanking, head of household, wedding night, Edwardian time period, m/f/m poly marriage

Summary: To save House Barnes from scandalous ruin, James must agree to a contracted marriage, accepting Lord Senator Steven Rogers as his Alpha, Husband, and Headship.

To read previous parts of this series first, got to the masterlist

6. A Honeymoon

This Chapter: Steve looks at him pointedly. “I’m pretty relaxed when it comes to matters of protocol - if it concerns just the two of us or our Third. But in company I’ll expect you to mind yourself. Understood?”

Except for being trampled by a carriage and almost losing his arm, taking a boat over the Atlantic winds up being the worst experience of Bucky’s life.

It’s neat, at first. Bucky’s only ever travelled by boat once before, and Steve has booked them tickets for a first-class suite on a luxury liner. A week after their wedding, they drive to the harbor, Steve and Bucky in one car and two of their servants and all the luggage in another.

At the docks are a number of newspaper reporters, all standing around and yelling out for a comment. It’s to be expected for a newly-married Senatorial couple such as them, but annoying all the same. Bucky heads straight for the gangplank, ready to walk-on-by and ignore the shouts completely. It’s been drummed into him since childhood: never give the press an unauthorized interview.

So he’s taken aback when Steve grabs his hand and pulls him over to address the reporters. Bucky looks at Steve with wide eyes, but his husband is already speaking to the nearest photographer, who’s asked them if they’re off for their honeymoon. “Yes,” Steve says, an easy smile gracing his face. Surprised, Bucky stands there like a dolt while Steve takes questions and engages politely with the reporters.

How liberal of him, Bucky thinks. It’s certainly unexpected from someone like Steve, who’s a goddamn member of the Senate. These are nothing but a bunch of gossip rag sidewalk paparazzi. Even they seem shocked that they're being given the time of day. Normally men of Steve's stature stick their noses up at anything but the most coordinated of interviews, arranged and conducted by seasoned journalists from only the most respected publications.

Bucky bites his lip as he watches Steve, looking at his smile, his bright eyes. He’s so handsome, he can’t help but think. Why the hell would someone like that ever consider marrying someone like him? Bucky averts his eyes when Steve turns his head and catches him staring.

“Captain Rogers: Is it Europe then, where you and the Lord Rogers will be travelling?”

“Yes. England, and then we’ll be touring the continent,” Steve says. The other reporters bark out more questions, asking for private details about their wedding and their plans for the future, but Steve shuts them up with a raised hand. “I’m sorry gentlemen, ladies, but that’s all. We need to board now.” He directs Bucky back towards the ramp, and it’s with the sounds of still-squawking reporters at their backs that they board the ship.

Their staterooms are finely furnished but small.

Bucky figures that since they have a sitting room separate from the bedroom, and a private promenade, these accommodations must be quite spacious—for a ship. The servants put the luggage away, then excuse themselves to settle into their own cabins down in second class.

That leaves Bucky to wander about and look things over. He pokes his head into the bedroom. There’s a dressing table and a door that leads to the bath. The room has a bed with posts and a canopy, tucked right up against the wall. It's clearly meant for two people, but it is much, much smaller than the bed he and Steve shared on their wedding night.

That had been nearly a week ago. Steve had travelled to D.C. to set his Senatorial affairs in order before their trip abroad, and Bucky had stayed in his own family's home. Aside from Becca's teasing and Prudence asking naughty questions about 'marital activities', Bucky's almost been able to forget that he's married at all.

But now they're on the ship, in luxurious but cramped quarters—and with a bed sized to match. Bucky swallows and eyes the small frame, thinking about how he’ll be sleeping there with Steve for the next eleven days …

“Bucky?"

He inhales sharply, shaking himself from his thoughts "Coming!" He goes back out to the sitting room, where Steve is standing and looking about the room with a proud smile. "Well, what do you think? I made sure to book one of the finest staterooms. It's nice, right?"

It's fucking gorgeous, but Bucky isn't going to say so just so Steve can preen over himself. He shrugs. "Sure. I guess so."

The light in Steve's eyes dims a little, but he recovers. “There's a promenade," he offers brightly. "Want to see outside?”

Bucky huffs as if put-upon, even though he does want to see, and follows Steve onto the promenade. It’s nice—light and airy, with wicker furniture and large windows that can be opened to let the sea breeze in. Steve flops down onto one of the chairs and Bucky walks over to the windows, sliding one open and looking out. Their stateroom is on the side of the ship that faces the docks, and he observes all of the pedestrians and dock workers moving around on the street below. Some are passing by, others have stopped to look up at the ship as all of its passengers and luggage are brought on board. Below, the muddy harbor water sloshes gently against the bottom of the ship, and Bucky leans out over the edge of the window, trying to see if there are any barnacles clinging to the—

“Bucky!” Steve’s hands are suddenly on him, yanking him by his coat.

"Wha—oof!"

Steve pulls him back into the room, maintaining a harsh grip on his upper arm as he shuts the window. He turns and glares at him. “You could have fallen!”

Bucky jerks away from his hold. “No I couldn’tve,” he snaps. “Jesus, I was just looking. I’m fine. What’s your problem?”

"You could've been hurt," Steve insists. "Or killed! You have to be more careful."

"More careful than what?" Bucky scowls. He stalks away, not noticing the other man's pained expression as he watched him go.

Steve gives him his space after that, telling Bucky that he’s going down to arrange their dinner reservations, and that he’ll be back in a bit. Bucky waits, intending to bide his time in the cabin, but there’s really nothing to do, and it gets boring after only a few minutes.

So he decides he’ll explore the ship. He heads out, not unaware that he should probably be waiting for Steve, or at least leaving him a note telling him where he’s going. It is a big ship, after all. But he ignores the consideration. Steve can figure it out for himself. Bucky’s an adult, and even though Steve's his Headship, he hadn’t told Bucky to stay put. Bucky smirks as he leaves their stateroom and takes the lift down, thinking about Steve returning to the room to find it empty.

The ship, Bucky concludes, is ridiculous.

He stops a steward and asks about what he might see, and the man directs him to several attractions. There’s the day lounge, the smoking lounge, the bar, the library, the gym, the squash courts and the swimming pool. There’s a goddamn Turkish bath, of all things! Bucky can’t imagine what person thought that they needed one of those. God forbid they cross an ocean without the essentials.

It takes a long time to tour most of the ship. At least an hour goes by before Bucky makes his way up to the public promenade and sits on a deck chair, tired and ready to people-watch. He’s relaxing, enjoying the busy sounds of the ship and the dockside, when all of a sudden someone down the way is exclaiming,

“There you are!”

He startles, head turning to see Steve approaching looking quite harried. Oh. Bucky tucks his lips in, trying hard not to smile. “Oh, hey Steve.”

Steve comes over and stands there with his hands on his hips, staring down at him. “I’ve been looking for you for over an hour!”

Bucky shrugs. “I went for a walk.”

“A walk?!” Steve huffs. “What on earth was so important that you couldn’t have waited for me to get back?” He glares at him. “I had half a mind that you’d gotten off the ship!”

Bucky laughs out loud at that. Even he wouldn’t literally jump ship to escape his new husband. “You know, I hadn’t thought of that,” he drawls. “It’s an idea though.”

Steve’s face darkens, and he is not amused. Growling, he grabs Bucky by the scruff of his shirt and yanks him up. “Come on,” he says, verging on using his Voice. “We’re going back to the room.”

“Sit,” he says, the moment he’s got the door to their suite shut. He points at the couch. “There. Now.”

Bucky gulps. He’s never been on the receiving end of an alpha’s Voice before. Truth be told, he’d always expected that it wouldn’t have much of an effect on him. He’s beta: omegas are the ones who are supposed to be compelled. But Bucky definitely feels something. Steve’s Voice puts a slight urge in his brain, an itch to obey. Coupled with the fact that he's wary of his husband's anger, it motivates him to plant his butt exactly where Steve just pointed.

He doesn’t have to do this, he reminds himself stubbornly. He doesn’t have to obey Steve’s command. … It just feels better if he does. Bucky grits his teeth and tells him, “You don’t have to Voice, alright? I’m here. I won’t run off again.”

Steve’s features lift a bit, whether in surprise or relief is unclear. “Okay,” he says, and yeah, it’s relief. He comes to join Bucky on the couch. “I was really worried, Bucky.”

Bucky hates the honest look that’s on Steve’s face right now, hates the hurt pinch in his brow. It tells him that Steve is a good man, is just concerned for his safety. Bucky feels his cheeks heat with embarrassment at having to be scolded like a child. “Sorry,” he mutters, hoping that it'll be enough to satisfy whatever his husband needs to hear from him.

“Promise me you won’t go running off again,” Steve says. He’s not using his Voice anymore, but his tone is imploring. “On this ship or elsewhere. We’ve got stops planned all over Europe. I won’t be able to relax if I constantly have to worry about you disappearing.”

Bucky frowns. Sure, he’d disappeared for an hour or two, and maybe he’d enjoyed the fact that he knew it would annoy Steve, but that wasn't why he'd done it. Bucky had honestly wanted to see the ship. He tells Steve so, saying, “I just wanted to explore. I won’t run away.”

Steve nods, seemingly satisfied. “Okay. Thank you, Buck.”

Bucky doesn’t know what to say to that. He feels suddenly awkward, sitting on the couch next to Steve; his husband, his Headship, the alpha who just a week ago had held Bucky tight to his body, jerked him off, and fucked his spend all over his thighs. Bucky swallows heavily at the memory. “I ...” he starts, needing to put some space between them. “Steve, I … need to use the bathroom.”

Steve frowns lightly. “Well go ahead. Jeez Buck, you don’t have to ask permission.”

Bucky shoots up from the couch, eager to get away because he's not sure he can keep himself from flinging out a nasty rebuttal, if he stays sitting there much longer.

They dress in tails for dinner in the ship’s finest and most exclusive dining room. Steve leads Bucky in by the arm, all eyes turning to watch them as they enter. Thankfully, everyone else in this part of the ship is just as, or nearly as, wealthy and important as Steve and Bucky are, so it isn’t long before most of the eyes trail away and their owners return to their previous conversations, two members of minor American royalty of no special note to them. Steve guides Bucky in the direction of their table, at which point they are accosted by two people.

“Captain Rogers!”

One of them Bucky recognizes. He’s Henry Mills, youngest son of Senator Mills of New Jersey, the man who used to be Bucky’s father’s counterpart—No longer, he thinks bitterly.

You’re the Lord of nothing! 

He can still hear his mother's hissing rebuke from that day. He blushes, embarrassed to have to stand in the company of his old schoolmate like this. Before, as both a Senatorial heir and as a beta, Bucky would've been considered above Henry in status. But now all that's changed. He’s sure Henry must be thinking about House Barnes’ scandal, as word has undoubtedly gotten 'round to the more important families of society by now. Soon enough it’ll be in the papers and everyone will know. Bucky cringes at the thought.

Steve starts up a stilted conversation of pleasantries with the alpha who introduces himself as Henry’s husband—Lord Jamison, Senator of Ohio. Henry is omega and a younger son, two very simple reasons why he was never going to inherit his father’s Seat. Bucky thinks dejectedly about how now the two of them have ended up in very much the same place; married to alpha Senators to maintain their positions in Society. The only difference between them is their designation, and it’s glaring. Henry’s stomach is noticeable beneath his waistcoat and dinner jacket. He’s pregnant.

“Yes,” Jamison is saying. “We’re very excited to be starting a family.” He wraps his arm possessively around Henry’s waist, drawing him closer against his side. “And we’re thinking we may have found our third. A beta from Maine. She’s just a daughter of one of the elected, but even still, she’s a very nice girl. Don’t you think, Sweetheart?”

Henry nods, one hand migrating to his stomach as he gazes up at his husband in adoration. “Yes,” he says. “It’s been a wonderful first year. We’re very fortunate.” He returns his attention to Bucky and Steve, saying, “You must be looking forward to setting up your Household, when you get back.”

It’s framed as a question, and since it’s clearly been aimed at Bucky, he feels compelled to answer, “Um, yes?” It’s a terribly awkward answer, and the uncomfortable silence that follows it makes him want to shrink away. Henry’s so obviously in love with his Headship, and meanwhile Bucky is just … not. He feels guilty for making it so obvious. 

Hadn’t they come there to eat dinner? He doubts he’ll have much of an appetite after this. He's been feeling a tad bit queasy since the ship departed that afternoon, and he desperately hopes that he won’t be prone to seasickness. “We’re moving into Steve’s brownstone,” he says, trying to offer something useful to the conversation. “It’s in Brooklyn.”

Jamison laughs. “Oh, how terribly chic of you. Such an eclectic place.” ‘Eclectic’, Bucky knows, is a euphemism for ‘common’. “You’ll have a lot to see there,” the alpha says. “I’ve heard they’ve made great progress in gentrifying some of the neighborhoods.”

Bucky looks to Steve, who is smiling a fake smile with tight eyes. “Yes, it’s nice. My favorite of all our residences.”

All our residences? Bucky thinks. All our residences? He tries to reign in his reaction. He hadn’t known that Steve owned more than one property, though it does make sense, given his wealth. He makes a mental note to ask Steve later about where the other houses are.

“Well, we really must take our seats,” Steve excuses. “I think I’ve seen our waiter divert himself twice, now.” He chuckles, and even that is fake, though Bucky isn’t sure the Jamisons can tell. “Gentlemen,” Steve says, and the couple bids them a polite goodbye. Steve waits until they’ve stepped away before he guides Bucky to sit at their table. “They seem nice,” he says, unfolding his napkin and placing it in his lap. Bucky follows suit.

“Yeah,” he says. “I guess.”

The waiter arrives and asks Steve what they’ll have. He doesn’t address Bucky, as it’s traditional for Headships to order for their spouses. Bucky is annoyed but not surprised. He speaks up right after Steve’s asked for lobster and before he can order for Bucky. “I’ll have the duck à l’orange,” he says.

The waiter seems tense for a moment, eyes flicking to Steve to assess his reaction. Steve gives a slight nod, and the waiter relaxes. “Very good Sir. I’ll tell the chef.” He turns and walks on to the next table.

“You don’t mind, do you Steve?” Bucky asks sweetly, waiting for his husband to scold him for the embarrassment. But it doesn’t come.

“No, I don’t,” Steve says, smiling slightly when Bucky looks at him with surprise. “I’m pretty relaxed when it comes to matters of protocol.”

“Oh?”

He nods. “When it concerns just the two of us or our Third, yes.” He looks at Bucky pointedly. “But in company I’ll expect you to mind yourself. Understood?”

Bucky wants so badly to say that no, it’s not understood, but that would be embarrassingly childish, even for him, so he reins himself in. “Sure,” he says.

“Good.”

They sit in silence, uncomfortable, until Bucky blurts, “Where are your residences?”

Steve's mouth quirks. “Well for one, they’re our houses now, seeing as we’re married. And they’re in Brooklyn, the Hamptons, Washington D.C., Manhattan, London and Paris. The latter three are only apartments, but they’re sizeable. I especially enjoy the Paris residence. We’ll be staying there for part of the trip. I'll look forward to hearing your opinions on each, you know." His expression turns fond. "Especially about our house in Cobble Hill. That's to be our family home."

Bucky fights to keep his face neutral, but internally he’s impressed. House Barnes has only ever kept residences in Paramus and Washington D.C. Ruefully, he thinks of how his mother and sisters will likely be forced to move to a different house now that their Senatorial status is about to be revoked, the only thing keeping them in Society being Bucky’s marriage to Steve. For that, he is grateful. He nods and fiddles with his silverware. “That’s nice,” he says.

Steve smiles. “Have you ever been to France?”

Bucky shakes his head. “No. I um, I went with my father to a state dinner in London once, back when I was introduced to Society, but it was brief. We didn’t go to the continent.”

“I see. Well I think you’ll enjoy yourself on our trip. I’m looking forward to showing you the sights.”

Bucky nods, not disagreeing but silent on the matter. Secretly, he’s been kind of excited to go on this honeymoon with Steve. He’s never traveled much, and touring Europe with a gorgeous Alpha is hardly a hardship. The only catch being that Bucky has to be married to him.

Their meal arrives before too long, and he's able to distract himself with the food. He drinks the wine that the sommelier suggests—a floral red that compliments the duck—and is pleased when Steve doesn’t protest his request of a second glass. Dessert is a rich chocolate cake, and Bucky nearly moans by the time he’s enjoying the last bite. When he finishes and glances up, Steve is looking at him with a mixture of amusement and desire. Bucky blushes. “Um, do you want to go to the smoking lounge, maybe? Have a brandy?”

Steve shakes his head. “I’ve had enough, and it's been a long day. Shall we head back to the room?”

Bucky swallows, nodding meekly and standing to take Steve’s offered arm. He thinks about what they’re going to do when they get back to their quarters. Will Steve undress him? Expect to have sex? Bucky’s thoughts drift back to their first night together; how Steve had handled him gently, made him come …

Steve guides him from the dining room. On the way out, they pass by Senator Jamison's table, and Bucky catches Henry Mills shooting him a friendly look—almost one of understanding, as though the two of them are Societal equals.

With a strange twinge in his gut, Bucky realizes that now they are.

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